Jake's tiny hand was engulfed in Emily's as she led him down the hallway, his steps hesitant and slow. Each step felt like he was sinking deeper into the humiliating reality Emily had created for him. The snug pull-up and pink Hello Kitty shirt clung to his small frame, a constant reminder of how powerless he now was.
When they reached the kitchen, Jake felt a lump form in his throat. He had always seen the kitchen as a place of independence—grabbing snacks whenever he wanted, making his own sandwiches, even cooking simple meals. But now, as Emily guided him toward the corner where the old highchair stood, that sense of independence seemed to evaporate.
Jake stopped dead in his tracks when he saw it—the highchair from his baby days, which he hadn't seen in years. It had been stored away in the attic, gathering dust, a relic of a time he barely remembered. But now, Emily had somehow brought it back, and it was waiting for him.
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"No, Emily!" Jake protested, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and embarrassment. "I'm not sitting in that! I'm not a baby!"
Emily turned to him, her expression a mix of authority and patience. "Jakey, you need to eat, and this is the safest place for you right now. I don't want you making a mess."
"I can eat at the table!" Jake insisted, his small hands balling into fists. "I don't need to be in a highchair!"
Emily sighed, kneeling down to his level. "Jake, you're too little to sit at the big table now. You could spill your food or fall off the chair. This is just until you finish eating, okay? Then we can play."
Jake shook his head, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. "But I'm not a baby!"
Emily's gaze softened slightly, but she remained firm. "I know you're not, Jakey. But right now, you need to let me take care of you. And that means sitting in the highchair."
Jake's shoulders slumped in defeat as he realized he had no choice. With a sigh of resignation, he allowed Emily to lift him up and place him in the highchair. She gently secured the tray in place, locking him in with a soft click. The highchair's padded seat felt strange and unfamiliar beneath him, and the height made him feel even smaller.
"There we go," Emily said, smiling as she stepped back to admire her work. "Now, let's get you something to eat."
She moved to the counter and prepared a plate with some small, bite-sized pieces of a sandwich and a few apple slices. She then filled a sippy cup with apple juice, the same cup Jake had used when he was a toddler. Seeing it again made him cringe inwardly.
Emily placed the plate and sippy cup on the highchair tray, her smile warm and encouraging. "Eat up, Jakey. I'll be right back, okay? I just need to grab something from the guest room."
Jake watched her leave, feeling a sense of unease settle in his stomach. He glanced down at the food in front of him, but his appetite had vanished. The highchair's tray felt like a barrier between him and the freedom he once had, and the sippy cup seemed to mock him, a symbol of how much control he had lost.
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With a sigh, Jake picked up a piece of the sandwich and nibbled on it half-heartedly. The taste was familiar, but it did little to comfort him. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what Emily was planning next. The thought of her rummaging through the guest room made him uneasy—what could she possibly be getting?
Minutes passed, and Jake's anxiety grew with each one. He tried to focus on eating, hoping it would take his mind off of things, but it was no use. His thoughts kept drifting back to Emily and what she might be up to.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jake heard Emily's footsteps returning. He looked up, his heart pounding in his chest as she entered the kitchen, her arms full of something large and pink.
It took Jake a moment to realize what it was—the old pink crib that used to be Emily's. The one their parents had kept in storage, just in case. It was smaller than he remembered, but to him, now 5 years old, it looked enormous.
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Emily set the crib down gently near the kitchen doorway, then turned to Jake with a satisfied smile. "I found it! Just like I remembered."
Jake's heart sank as he realized what this meant. Emily was serious about treating him like a little kid—or worse, like a baby. The crib was the final piece of the puzzle, a symbol of how thoroughly his role had been reversed.
"Emily, please..." Jake's voice cracked as he pleaded with her. "Don't do this. I'm not a baby. I'm your brother."
Emily's expression softened as she approached him, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "I know, Jakey. But right now, you're my little brother, and I'm going to take care of you, just like you were supposed to take care of me. It's only for a week, and then everything can go back to normal."
Jake stared at her, feeling a mix of emotions—anger, fear, helplessness. But beneath it all, there was a tiny spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to convince her to change him back.
As Emily removed the tray and lifted him out of the highchair, Jake clung to that hope, even as she carried him toward the guest room where the crib awaited. He had to find a way to turn this around before it was too late.
