Don't call me Brother

I should have stopped wanting him the moment he called me sister.

But how do you stop craving someone who was never supposed to be yours?

I've liked Shardul Rajput since the 8th grade-since the first time he leaned in too close, his voice teasing but his eyes dark with something I was too young to understand. Since the first time his fingers brushed mine a little too slowly, a touch that meant nothing to him but sent my pulse racing.

Back then, it was just a crush. A stupid, impossible crush on my brother's best friend-the guy who danced like the world melted around him, the guy every girl in school wanted. But I was different. I was Anuj's sister, and that meant I was untouchable.

And so, he stayed away.

The teasing turned into casual nods in the hallway. The playful glances became fleeting, unreadable stares. The warmth in his touch vanished, replaced by careful distance.

And just when I thought I could move on-just when I convinced myself that his hands, his voice, his damn intoxicating presence didn't affect me anymore-he went and ruined everything.

Because last night, he pulled me aside at a party.
Last night, his breath was warm against my ear.
Last night, his fingers curled around my wrist, tight and possessive.

And last night, he whispered my name like it meant something.

I know this is dangerous.
I know this is forbidden.
I know I should walk away before it's too late.

But then he looks at me like that-like I'm not just Anuj's sister, but something more-and suddenly, I don't care about the rules anymore.