"You sound so good even when you don't say anything, sunflower," he murmurs against my lips.
I look at him weirdly, "Are you by any chance... retarded?"
...
"And whose fault is that?" I whisper back, fumbling with my hands.
"Yours, definitely yours, little sis," he answers, jumping on the bed and taking out the phone from under his butt.
"Oops."
Instead of keeping his phone on the bedside table, or perhaps, in his pocket, he tosses it mindlessly on the bed, and it sits under the sheets.
I shake my head at his antics. A few hours later, he'll be shouting that he lost his phone.
"We used to be so close. One day you just stopped trusting me, telling me everything. What went wrong, Naira?"
"Do we really need to have a heart to heart?!" I groan, rubbing my forehead in pain.
When he nods his head, I sigh and continue, "I grew up, Ansh. I'm not going to go to my brother about my problems."
