After returning to my room, I couldn't help but recall the moment when I saw Peyton again at eighteen.
Our parents divorced when we were very young. I lived abroad with my mother, while Peyton, who wasn't even a year old, stayed in here with our father.
After I became an adult, our father passed away. I left my mother's remarried family and resolutely returned to here to take care of my underage half-brother.
At our father's funeral, I saw Peyton in a black suit that didn't quite fit him. He was only fourteen at the time.
The young boy stood before the tombstone like a lone wolf, coldly observing the people coming and going.
It was a cloudy day, the sky dark with heavy clouds. Soon, rain began to fall. I walked up to him, holding an umbrella, and opened my mouth to speak, feeling a bit ridiculous as I said:
"Hi, I'm your surprise big sister, Abbey."
From that day on, I became Peyton's de facto guardian.
At first, he would obediently call me sister, but after all, we hadn't seen each other for over a decade. There was a distance between us, a certain level of formality. Yet, it was undeniable that we shared the same blood.
The event that truly brought us closer happened when Peyton was fifteen.
It was the anniversary of our father's death. It was well past school hours, but Peyton still hadn't returned home.
Without a second thought, I went to the cemetery where our father was buried.
And that's where I found Peyton, red-eyed and clinging to the tombstone, crying.
"How did you know I was here?"
Are you kidding me? On our father's death anniversary, where else would you go if not here?
I didn't respond to him, just told him to come home with me.
I remember very clearly, Peyton said, "I don't have a mother, and I don't have a father anymore."
I didn't comfort him because, in a way, I was just like him.
I don't have a father, my mother is someone else's mother.
He and I, we're the same kind of people.
"Peyton, look on the bright side, I still have a brother, and you still have a sister."
We stood there in a stalemate for a while, but finally, Peyton got up, slung his black cartoon backpack over his shoulder, and followed me home.
I have to say, Peyton has quite an appetite—when we got home, he ate three pieces of egg salad sandwich.
In any case, from that moment on, my relationship with Peyton improved.
He didn't start rebelling until he went to high school, and our relationship became strange and different from what it used to be.
I am still responsible for attending his parent-teacher conferences.
The sound from the doorway interrupted my thoughts. Peyton's cool voice called out, "Abbey, sign this for me."
I opened the door, took the school materials from him, signed my name on them.
In a daze, I suddenly remembered that Peyton's eighteenth birthday was just a few months away.
After handing the workbook back to him, I casually asked, "Peyton, what do you want for your eighteenth birthday?"
Peyton glanced at me, then looked away. After a brief pause, he said, "Guess."
I looked up and caught sight of the small red mole on his Adam's apple, noticing that Peyton was intently staring at me with his downcast eyes.
A strange emotion surged in my heart, but I suppressed it, casually teasing him before retreating to my room.
Could it really be that this seemingly gentle Peyton would, on his eighteenth birthday, hopelessly fall in love with the heroine and become as twisted as the plot suggests?
In the middle of the night, feeling puzzled, I called a friend out for a late-night snack.
At the night market, I looked at my friend Fiona Hull and finally couldn't hold back asking, "Do you think it's possible that we're actually NPCs in a novel?"
After hearing that, Fiona popped open a bottle of beer and took a big gulp, nonchalantly replying, "NPC or not, we still gotta drink beer."
What a glutton.
I couldn't help but smile and picked up a skewer of grilled meat to eat.
"You're right. NPC or not, we still gotta eat barbecue."
As we were eating, Fiona suddenly checked her phone and urged me, "Aren't you heading back? Your brother's gonna come looking for you soon."
I took another sip of beer, replying in a slightly annoyed tone, "I don't have a brother."
Fiona glanced behind me and said with schadenfreude, "Abbey, good luck."
A bit slow to react, I turned around and saw Peyton, dressed in a black hoodie. He paid the bill using his phone, called a taxi for Fiona, and smoothly handled everything before walking over to me.
"Abbey, you don't have a brother?"
I awkwardly explained, "I've always been by myself, I forgot."
I've only been with Peyton for a few years, and when I met him, I was already eighteen. Subconsciously, I never really saw him as a brother—he's just a little kid.
And besides, how did he know I was here?
The tall, lean figure suddenly bent down, and I heard him ask, "Are you drunk?"
"No."
I've always had a good tolerance for alcohol; I don't get drunk easily.
Then, Peyton held up his hand and asked me how many fingers he was showing.
Without thinking, I bit his hand.
"Why are you pointing at me..."
A soft laugh echoed in my ear as Peyton pinched his earlobe, his tone deep, "I hope you're really drunk."
