TALES OF BIG SISTERs

Different People yet Same Feelings

Chapter Six: The Things We Don’t Say

Naomi sat at the kitchen table, running a hand through her hair. It was late, the kind of late where the world outside was silent, where streetlights flickered against empty sidewalks, where even the air felt still.

She glanced at her phone.

No messages.

Her mother was still at work, or maybe just avoiding home.

Maya was asleep. Elliot was in his room, probably brooding over whatever argument they had last.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. The weight of the day sat heavy on her shoulders, but it wasn’t just today. It was every day.

And she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

Across the city, in a different house with a different kind of silence, Vera sat in her own kitchen, staring at the cold cup of tea in front of her.

Daria had already gone to bed. Tess had shut herself in their shared room. Chi had curled up against her sister’s side like she always did.

And Vera?

She just sat there, gripping the edge of the table like if she let go, everything would fall apart.

Naomi and Vera didn’t know each other. They had never met. But in the quiet, in the exhaustion, in the loneliness of being the ones who held everything together, they felt the same things.

Because being a big sister wasn’t just about responsibility.

It was about sacrifice.

It was about carrying burdens no one else would even acknowledge.

Naomi closed her eyes.

Vera exhaled.

Somewhere, far apart but still connected in the weight of it all, both girls sat in the dark, wishing—just for a moment—that someone would take care of them for once.

---

Chapter Seven: The Breaking Point

Daria lit a cigarette, leaning against the window.

Naomi stood on her front porch, arms crossed.

Different places. Different nights.

Same feeling.

They were tired.

Not just physically. Not just because of sleepless nights or long days.

They were tired in a way that settled into their bones, in a way that didn’t go away no matter how much they tried to push through it.

Vera stepped out onto the porch, arms folded.

Naomi looked up at the sky.

Daria sighed, flicking ash off the edge of the windowsill.

Elliot slammed his bedroom door.

Tess turned up the volume on her music.

Maya shifted in her sleep, murmuring something soft, something that sounded like Naomi.

Chi curled closer to her big sister, a soft, sleepy Vera escaping her lips.

It was always like this.

They could be falling apart, unraveling at the seams, but at the end of the day—

They had to keep going.

Because if they didn’t, who would?

Vera glanced over at Daria.

Naomi exhaled and went back inside.

The night continued, and the world didn’t stop just because they were exhausted.

It never did.

And maybe it never would.

But big sisters don’t get the luxury of breaking.

They just keep holding on.

Even when it hurts.

Even when no one sees it.

Even when they don’t know how much longer they can.

Chapter Eight: When Big Sisters Break

Naomi woke up to the sound of knocking.

Not the soft, uncertain kind.

The loud, urgent kind.

She stumbled out of bed, rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes as she made her way to the door. Elliot stood on the other side, his hoodie pulled low over his face, his hands jammed into his pockets.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Elliot exhaled sharply. "Maya’s crying."

Naomi’s stomach twisted.

She pushed past him, moving quickly down the hall. She found Maya sitting up in bed, her tiny body trembling beneath the blanket. Tears streaked her face, and when Naomi sat beside her, she immediately latched on, burying her face into her big sister’s chest.

"I had a bad dream," Maya whispered.

Naomi swallowed, running a hand through her little sister’s hair. "It’s okay, baby. I’m here."

Maya sniffled, clutching her tighter. "You won’t leave, right?"

Naomi felt something c***k inside her.

Because the truth was—she wanted to leave.

Not Maya. Not Elliot.

But this life. The exhaustion. The weight of always being the one to hold things together.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to be selfish.

But she couldn’t.

So instead, she whispered, "I’m not going anywhere."

And she meant it.

---

Across the city, Vera stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands gripping the counter.

Chi had another nightmare.

Tess had locked herself in the bathroom, pretending not to care.

Daria sat at the table, arms folded, staring at the wall like if she focused hard enough, maybe all of this would just disappear.

"She asked for Dad," Vera finally said, her voice hollow.

Daria blinked.

Then, without a word, she stood, walking toward the back door.

Vera followed.

Daria lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling into the cold night air. "She doesn’t even remember him," she muttered.

Vera’s hands curled into fists. "She remembers the idea of him."

Daria let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, well. Ideas don’t keep the lights on. Ideas don’t put food on the table."

Vera didn’t argue.

Because what was there to say?

They both knew the truth.

Their father had been a hero. A soldier. A man who fought for something bigger than himself.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was gone.

And it didn’t change the fact that their mother had never recovered.

Daria sighed, tossing her cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. "Go back inside, Vera."

"You’re not coming?"

Daria didn’t answer.

She just stood there, staring into the night like it held answers she would never find.

Vera hesitated.

Then, finally, she turned and went inside.

Because at the end of the day, this was all they knew.

No mother to lean on.

No father to fix things.

Just the four of them, doing their best not to fall apart.

And big sisters—

Big sisters don’t get to break.

Even when they already have.

Chapter Nine: The Night the Weight Was Too Much

Naomi sat at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched cup of tea in front of her.

The house was quiet, but it wasn’t peace.

It was the kind of quiet that came after something broke, when no one wanted to be the first to speak.

Elliot had stormed off an hour ago. Maya was asleep, but Naomi knew it wouldn’t last—she’d wake up again, looking for her.

And Naomi?

She just sat there. Tired.

Her fingers tapped against the ceramic mug, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

She couldn’t do this anymore.

She didn’t want to do this anymore.

For years, she had told herself she could handle it—that if she just held on long enough, things would get better.

But what if they didn’t?

What if this was all there ever was?

A mother who never came home. A brother who hated her for trying to keep him from self-destructing. A little sister who still believed in a Naomi that didn’t exist anymore.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she stood.

She walked out the door.

She didn’t know where she was going.

She just needed to breathe.

---

Vera sat in the living room, staring at the ceiling.

She was supposed to be asleep.

But instead, she listened to the sound of Daria’s footsteps pacing outside, the soft scratch of a lighter flicking on and off.

It had been a bad night.

Chi had woken up crying, asking for a father she had never even met.

Tess had yelled for the first time in months.

And their mother?

She had walked past all of them like they weren’t even there, locked herself in her room, and disappeared.

Again.

Vera exhaled, sitting up.

She was tired.

Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix.

The kind that sat in her bones, that made everything feel heavier than it should.

She got up.

Walked to the door.

Stepped outside.

Daria was sitting on the porch, staring at the stars, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Vera whispered, "Do you ever just… want to leave?"

Daria didn’t look at her.

But her grip on the cigarette tightened.

"Every single day," she muttered.

Vera swallowed.

"What stops you?"

Daria let out a slow breath, smoke curling around her lips.

"You."

Vera blinked. "Me?"

"And Chi. And Tess," Daria continued. "Because if I go, who takes care of you?"

Vera bit her lip.

She wanted to say, you don’t have to take care of us.

But they both knew that was a lie.

Because if Daria wasn’t the strong one—then who was?

Vera sat beside her, knees pulled to her chest.

For a long time, they just sat there, staring into the night, neither of them saying the things they really wanted to say.

---

Naomi sat on a park bench, gripping her phone.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been walking.

She just knew she had needed to go.

To breathe.

To exist for just a moment without carrying the weight of everyone else.

Her phone buzzed.

She almost didn’t check.

But when she did—

It was Maya.

"Naomi? Where are you? I had a bad dream."

Naomi squeezed her eyes shut.

This was it.

This was why she never left.

She took a slow, shuddering breath and typed back:

"I’m coming home."

She stood.

Turned around.

Started walking back.

Because big sisters don’t get to leave.

Even when they want to.

Even when they need to.

Because someone is always waiting for them to come home.

And Naomi—

Naomi would never let Maya wait for too long.

---

Across the city, Vera sat beside Daria on the porch, staring at the stars.

And in the silence, for the first time in a long time—

She didn’t feel so alone.