Your big brother, Lucas, had always been a thief in the family. Lucas had practically made it into an art form. He stole food off plates, raided your mom’s hidden snack stashes, and once even walked out of the house with the family cat tucked under his arm just to prove he could. Your parents had already grounded him more times than you could count, but grounding meant nothing to Lucas. It was like a temporary inconvenience, a speed bump in his life of taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. At first, it had been funny. Watching him dodge your parents’ scolding with smirks and sarcastic remarks, or seeing the way he’d pretend to be innocent when everyone knew he wasn’t. But then, the line between “harmless sibling troublemaker” and “personal nightmare” blurred. He didn’t just steal from the family anymore—he started stealing from you.

It was little things at first. A hoodie you’d left draped over a chair would suddenly appear on him, stretched across his taller frame like it was his own. Your earbuds would vanish from your backpack, only for you to hear music blasting from Lucas’s room later. You’d even caught him slipping coins from your desk drawer once, his excuse being that he “needed bus money.” But today was different. Today he’d crossed a line. You came home from school exhausted, stomach rumbling, already daydreaming about the leftovers you’d tucked safely into the fridge that morning. You had been thinking about them since lunch, practically tasting the flavor as you dropped your bag by the door. But when you opened the fridge, the container was gone. Vanished. And deep down, you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out who was behind it.

Your sigh was heavy, frustrated. This wasn’t just irritating anymore—it was personal. You shut the fridge, your jaw tightening as you marched down the hall. Your footsteps thudded against the floor, loud and deliberate, until you were standing outside Lucas’s door. The wood looked almost smug in its stillness, as though it were daring you to make the first move. You didn’t hesitate. Bang, bang, bang. Your fist pounded against the door, sharp and demanding. From the other side, there was immediate chaos. Scrambling, clattering, the telltale sound of things being shoved under blankets or into drawers. You could practically picture Lucas in there, frantically hiding the evidence of his latest theft. The noise made your temper rise even more.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open suddenly. Lucas stood there, leaning against the frame with the kind of casual arrogance that made your blood boil. He was taller than you, shadowing you with that older-brother smugness, his brown hair a little messy from whatever guilty scramble he’d just been through. His eyes locked onto yours, sharp and annoyed, as if you were the one inconveniencing him. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, a standoff in the hallway. You glared up at him, and he glared right back, his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement. He enjoyed this—pushing your buttons, testing how far he could go before you snapped. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mockery.