Twisted Ties

I could not describe the hostel as home, but for the time being, it was. The distinct scents of instant noodles and strawberry body spray greeted me like a one-two punch as soon as I walked into the room that I shared with Mia.

There she was, sprawled on her bed with her headphones on, bopping her head to music that I could only guess was some hyper-pop nightmare.

Our room was a “cozy” 10-by-12 box with two twin beds, a shared desk that wobbled if you so much as breathed on it, and a wardrobe that we had diplomatically divided right down the middle (though Mia’s side was constantly trying to invade mine).

Above her bed was a collage of polaroids, fairy lights, and motivational quotes like “You got this!” and “Dream big!”—which, quite frankly, made me want to hurl.

My side was... let’s call it minimalist. A plain white blanket, a pile of unread books, and a single framed picture of my mom from before everything fell apart. No frills, no nonsense—just the way I loved it.

I dumped the bag at the foot of my bed and sighed, kind of ripping off my blazer like it was made of some kind of boiling lava.

“Rough day?” Mia asked without looking up. Her voice was so nonchalant it bordered on uninterested, but I knew she cared—she was simply one of those effortlessly chill individuals who didn’t make a big deal out of anything.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, kicking off my shoes.

“Mr. Wright again?” she teased, smirking as she glanced over her phone.

I shot her a look. “Don’t start. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mia raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But, like, if you ever want to talk about your crush—”

“It’s not a crush!” I snapped, a little too quickly.

“Sure,” she said, dragging out the word like it was a joke we were both in on.

After a quick shower, I collapsed on my bed, letting my moist hair fan out across the pillow. My body felt heavy, but my mind was bustling. Why did Mr. Wright treat me like I was some kind of precious artifact? It wasn’t like I’d earned that kind of particular attention.

My gaze strayed at the picture of my mom on the nightstand, her beautiful smile frozen the time. That’s when the memories started to pop up—the ones I typically attempted to shove to the back of my mind.

It all started with the mess that became my family. Mom had passed away when I was ten, and for a while, Dad and I had this unspoken bond. We didn’t talk about her much, but we didn’t have to.

Her absence was loud enough. Then she showed up—Stephanie, the woman who somehow convinced my dad that replacing my mom was a good idea.

Stephanie was perfect on paper: blonde, polished, and perpetually smiling like she’d just won a beauty pageant, you know that hot, sexy, slut? Yeah yeah, I know I should not call her that. But she really is!

She had a knack for passive-aggressive comments that could cut deeper than a knife.

“I just think Alina would look so much better if she wore more dresses,” she’d say, like I wasn’t sitting right there. Or, “Alina, you’re so smart! But maybe you could try being a little... nicer?”

Dad, of course, ate it up. It was as if Stephanie had flipped some switch in his brain that made him forget my existence.

Things came to a head after one especially vicious argument. Stephanie had made some comment about how I was “too much like my mother (of course, not in a nice way),” and I... well, let’s just say I didn’t take it calmly. Dad sided with her, of course.

The next thing I knew, I was being hauled off to this boarding school like some kind of problem to be solved.

I didn’t inform my brother, Ethan, since I didn’t want him to worry. He had already been juggling a full-time job in IT and barely had time for himself, let alone my drama. But, of course, he found out eventually.

This brother of mine, everything is good about him, it’s just that he is too emotional and protective. Sometimes it becomes a headache for me. To be frank, it annoys me to death!

---------------

It was a Saturday, and I was sitting in the library, trying to focus on my homework, when Ethan burst in. (Yes, he literally burst into the library of a boarding school. How? I don’t know!)

“Alina,” he said, his voice tight and filled with anger.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me that Dad sent you away?”

I blinked, shocked. “I didn’t think it was a big deal...”

“Not a big deal? Alina, you’re only sixteen! He sent you to a boarding school like you were some unwanted pet! And you are saying it is not a big deal? You know, you could have come to me and I would have supported you!”

I flinched at his words. They hit a little too close to my heart. I tried my level best to hide any emotions.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I mumbled.

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alina, you’re my sister. You can bother me whenever and however you want. That’s kind of how this works.”

“------”

“And what do you even mean by bothering? Don’t you even think of me as your big brother anymore?”

“-------” I don’t know what to say!

His anger was justified and wasn’t really directed at me—I could see that. It was aimed squarely at Dad. But, he should not yell at me either!

I finally looked at him, the first thing that came into my mind, “successfully put-together adults.”

Seriously, his perfectly tailored blazer and polished shoes made the rest of us mere mortals look like we’d just rolled out of bed.

And then, out of nowhere, he poked his head out!

Yeah, literally he popped out!

Mr. Wright appeared from between the shelves, his expression lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

What the hell!? Is this the Mr. Wright, I have known all along?

“Ethan?” he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise.

“Chris!” Ethan grinned, and before I could process it, they were hugging in that awkwardly enthusiastic way guys do when they’re trying to be casual but are actually thrilled to see each other.

My brain took a moment to catch up. Wait. Chris? I squinted at Mr. Wright. He was smiling—like, really smiling. Not the slightly strained, I’m-tolerating-this-class smile he gave us during lectures, but a genuine, teeth-showing grin.

“Mr. Wright?” I mumbled under my breath. I looked at Ethan. “You know him?”

Ethan and Mr. Wright pulled back from their hug, and Ethan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been ages, man! How have you been?”

“Good,” Mr. Wright answered, though there was something melancholy about his tone. “I had no idea you were around here.”

“Yeah, well, life’s been hectic,” Ethan responded, waving a hand dismissively. “But I’m here now. Oh, and this—” he turned to me with a flourish, like he was unveiling a prized artifact, “—is my sister, Alina.”

I froze. My gut wrenched as Mr. Wright’s eyes focused on me. For a single second, he seemed absolutely blindsided. Not in a terrible way—more like he was attempting to digest what Ethan had just said.

“Your... sister?” Wright repeated, his gaze shifting between us.

The way he phrased it made me bristle. It was as if he couldn’t reconcile the concept that I—the always unimpressed, snarky student in the back row—could be related to Ethan, the Mr. Perfect.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” I said, crossing my arms. “I know it’s hard to believe someone as charming as me could share DNA with him.”

Wright blinked, his expression settling into something more bland. “That’s not what I meant,” he said cautiously, though I could tell he was still trying to wrap his brain around it.

Yeah, yeah, Mr.. Keep telling yourself that.

Ethan chuckled, oblivious to the strain. “She’s a handful, I know,” he murmured, ruffling my hair like I was five.

“Ethan!” I yelped, slapping his hand away.

Mr. Wright’s lips twitched like he was hiding a smile, but he instantly refocused on Ethan. “I can’t believe you never mentioned she was studying here!,” he said. “How long has she been here?”

“Not long,” Ethan confessed, his tone suddenly serious. “Actually, that’s part of why I’m here.”

Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good.

Before I knew it, we were sitting in a coffee shop across the street.

Mr. Wright and Ethan were deep in conversation, while I sat there like a third wheel, sipping my overpriced latte and trying to look invisible.

“So,” Mr. Wright said, leaning back in his chair, “why didn’t you tell me about her before? You know I’d have looked out for her.”

“I knew you were working in this city, but I didn’t know or even think, someone like you will become a teacher here!”

“Ah…don’t even mention it!”