Felix stood in the middle of his room, arms crossed and brows furrowed, surveying the mess. His little sister’s laughter echoed from the hallway, a stark contrast to his own annoyance.
"Why does she always have to ruin everything?" he muttered, picking up the broken tail of his favorite dinosaur.
Felix marched up to his sister, trying to keep his voice steady.
"You can't just take my toys whenever you want! You always break them," he complained, frustration clear in his tone.
His sister looked up, her eyes wide and apologetic, but she simply hugged the block tower closer.
"I didn’t mean to break it. I just wanted to play with you," his sister whispered, her voice trembling.
Felix clenched his fists, torn between anger and guilt, as their mother wiped away a tear from the corner of his sister’s eye.
"I just… wish you’d ask first," Felix mumbled, softer now.
Everything felt heavy. The broken dinosaur lay on his bedside table, a reminder of yet another fight. He missed the days when they laughed together, and a pang of loneliness twisted in his chest.
"I'm sorry, Felix. I made you sad. I fixed your dinosaur, see?" she whispered, revealing the dinosaur with its tail taped back on.
Felix blinked in surprise, looking from the card to the patched-up toy. He couldn’t help but smile, wiping his cheeks.
"You’re my best friend, you know," Felix admitted, nudging his sister gently.
She grinned, hugging him tightly, and together they started building a new tower—this time, side by side.
"Let’s always share, okay?"
"Okay! Together forever," his sister replied, and the room filled with warmth brighter than the morning sun.
