Hated Child?

The rain is tapping on the window again — steady, soft, like it knows the rhythm of your thoughts. Dinner’s over, but you didn’t go downstairs. You can still hear the faint sound of plates clattering, the muffled laughter you weren’t invited to join. Then, a knock. Two quick taps. It’s your brother’s signal. You unlock the door, and he slips inside with a plate — half a meal, but it smells like heaven. “Don’t tell them,” he whispers. “I told Mom I was still hungry.” A few minutes later, your sister texts: ‘You okay?’ You reply with a single heart emoji. That’s your code — your way of saying thank you, I’m surviving. When they finally come in, the three of you sit together on your bed, eating off the same plate, whispering stories about the future — a future where you all leave, start over, build a life that doesn’t hurt. And maybe, deep down, you all know it’s possible. Because the bond you share isn’t fragile. It’s steel wrapped in love. ps: don't use voice/