Part 32: Tangled in threads

"I swear to everything that breathes under the sun, Dylan, if I catch you, I'll—" My voice trailed off as I dashed into the house, hot on the heels of the person who had turned my return home into a relentless nightmare. My heart raced, a frantic drumbeat echoing in my chest, driven by a heady mix of anger and adrenaline.

It was supposed to be a month of love, right? But my dear brother had chosen to express his affection through an endless string of pranks since the moment I stepped through the door. It all began the day I returned, when he greeted me with a bucket of rainbow water, cleverly deployed thanks to the CCTV feed. From that point on, my life had become a whirlwind of elaborate tricks.

Dylan was determined to make my homecoming anything but tranquil. His excuse? He missed his sister and wanted to make up for lost time by crafting unforgettable memories. Each day brought a new surprise, from fake spiders lurking beneath my pillow to whoopee cushions strategically placed on my favorite chair.

Today, his antics escalated. While I was outside, he tossed me a large balloon with a mischievous grin, shouting, "Catch!" Reflexively, I reached out, expecting a lighthearted moment. Instead, the balloon erupted, showering me with cold water and leaving me drenched from head to toe.

I stood there, stunned and soaked, as Dylan erupted in laughter, his eyes sparkling with delight. It was abundantly clear that my brother's mission to create unforgettable memories was succeeding—though I couldn't shake the feeling it might also drive me mad.

As I stumbled into the house, shivering and dripping water everywhere, I immediately spotted my cheeky brother descending the stairs, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"Oh dear, what happened to you?" My mother, emerging from the kitchen, paused and blinked in surprise. But I brushed her off; I was a woman on a mission—a mission to catch my brother and teach him a proper lesson.

Dylan's eyes widened at the sight of my furious expression. Before I could react, he bolted down the hallway, clearly aware he was in deep trouble. I chased after him, fueled by determination to seize my prey before he could escape my wrath. We darted in circles, and in a shocking display of cowardice, he even had the audacity to hide behind our mother.

"Mom, mom, save me!" he pleaded, clutching her waist and spinning around her like a human shield. It felt like an absurd game of cat and mouse, with Dylan desperately evading my grasp.

"Come on, you two, stop fooling around!" our mother called out, her tone a mix of annoyance and barely concealed amusement. She relished the liveliness in the house, even if it meant enduring our constant bickering.

"No! If I let you go, Mandy is going to chase after me again!" Dylan protested, his voice tinged with exasperation. "I need backup!"

"Oh, did you consider that while plotting all this?" I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's not my fault you're such an easy target," he retorted, a haughty smile spreading across his face. "Besides, it's all in good fun!"

"Mom, did you hear that? He doesn't even feel sorry!" I glared at him, my frustration bubbling over.

"Dylan, stop being such a brat and apologize to your sister," she chided lightly, then turned to me. "And you, dear, don't stoop to his level; he's just a child."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. Of course she would take his side. Being the youngest, Dylan had her wrapped around his little finger, and it showed.

With our mother in his corner, Dylan stuck out his tongue and flashed a triumphant smirk, reveling in his victory.

"How can he be just a child when his voice has already changed? He's practically an adolescent now, Mom," I exclaimed, exasperation lacing my words. "Besides, he's almost as tall as I am! He's not a child anymore."

"Ah, stop whining and go get changed. You'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes," my mother chided, brushing off my concerns about Dylan's maturity with a wave of her hand. I sighed, realizing that her favoritism toward my younger brother was a constant I would have to endure.

Huffing in frustration, I stormed toward the stairs, my mind racing with plans for revenge. That little brat was going to pay for this.

...

After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt, I flopped onto the couch next to my dad, who was absorbed in a game console battle with Dylan. I couldn't help but relish his jumpy reactions, clearly on edge as he anticipated my next move. For now, revenge could wait; I was content to watch him squirm.

Dylan's jitters got the better of him, and Dad seized the moment to score a goal.

"GOAL!!!!" I cheered, clapping my hands with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Daddy wins, Chipmunk loses!" I teased, sticking my tongue out playfully at Dylan.

He groaned and shot me a glare. "Don't call me that!"

I laughed even harder at his reaction. I had used that nickname when he was younger, back when he was obsessed with chipmunks. Now, as a teenager, he despised it, but I couldn't resist the temptation to bring it up just to see him squirm.

"Chipmunk, Chipmunk, Chipmunk!" Just then, my adorable niece, Shantel, joined in, her giggles filling the room. She had overheard my teasing and found it hilarious, declaring that he was too old and too tall to be a chipmunk.

"Dad, you see? They're bullying me! I need boy-child protection!" Dylan complained, turning to Dad, who playfully patted him on the back, shoving him forward with more force than necessary.

"Stop being such a baby," Dad laughed, knowing exactly how to provoke him further. It was clear Dylan had forgotten that while Mom spoiled him, I was still Daddy's princess.

Shantel, still giggling, chimed in, "Yeah, Dylan, don't be such a crybaby!"

It was exhilarating to rile him up. "Since my dearest brother is a sore loser, how about I play with you, Dad?" At my question, Dad turned to me, surprise etched on his face.

"You hate these games; you don't even know how to play," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. "It's a good thing Dylan feels grateful for that new version of GTA I bought him. He taught me how to play."

Dylan's eyes widened in horror as I raised my voice, spotting Mom approaching.

"What did you just say?" Mom exclaimed, her gaze narrowing at Dylan.

"Mom, it's not what you think! She… she's just trying to sabotage me!" he stammered, panic creeping into his voice.

"Oh, dear me, don't tell me you lied about Mom being okay with you having the new edition." I feigned shock, placing a hand on my chest.

Turning to Mom, I put on my most innocent expression. "Mom, he told me that as long as I was the one buying it, you'd be fine with him playing." Her eyes widened in disbelief as she turned to my little brother, whose complexion seemed to drain.

"Is that true, Dylan?" she asked, disappointment heavy in her voice. "I can't believe you would manipulate your sister like that."

"No, Mom, you don't—" But before he could finish, Mom had already grabbed his ear, leading him toward the staircase. "I thought I raised you better than this," she said sternly, her disappointment evident. "You're grounded for a month."

Dylan winced in pain, shooting me a glare that I met with a triumphant tongue stick-out. Ah, how sweet revenge was!

"Now what has the naughty Dylan done?" my heavily pregnant sister called from the stairs, watching the pitiful sight of Dylan being led away.

"Oh dear, be careful!" Mom exclaimed, releasing Dylan's ear to rush toward my sister and support her arm.

"Mom, she's just pregnant, not handicapped," Dylan muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the exaggerated concern. This earned him a scowl from Mom.

"And why are you still here? To your room!" she ordered, and Dylan stomped off, grumbling.

Mom turned her attention back to my sister, gently guiding her down the stairs. "You should have asked me or even the maids for help. Don't you know how dangerous it is to be using the stairs in your condition?" she lightly scolded, her concern evident as they descended slowly.

When I first arrived home and recovered from the shock of Dylan's prank, I was greeted by the sight of my older sister, Madeline. It had been far too long since we'd seen each other, and I was thrilled to have her back, especially now that she was pregnant and navigating the stairs with caution. Watching her made me acutely aware of how much time had passed without us catching up in person.

Madeline had always been my favorite person to spend time with. We shared countless adventures together, our parents having humorously named us Madeline and Maddison. Naturally, we ended up as Maddy and Mandy, frequently confusing friends and family by switching nicknames, which resulted in endless laughter.

When she got married, I felt a bittersweet mix of joy and sadness. I was overjoyed that Luke, her husband, was such a wonderful man who adored her. Yet, I was also saddened by the fact that she was leaving us.

I was still upset that she hadn't informed me of her pregnancy beforehand, but she insisted it was meant to be a surprise for me at school.

"Are you sure you're not carrying twins?" I asked, craning my neck to get a better look at her growing belly before turning my attention back to the game Dad and I had started.

I mean, was it normal for her belly to be that big in just the third trimester?

"Luke and I are planning to check at my next appointment. I do wish it were twins—a girl and a boy. That way, I can close this agonizing chapter," she said, settling onto the couch.

"As if you didn't enjoy the process of making them—" I teased, only to receive a light swat to the back of my head from Dad.

"You're still too young to be speaking so crudely," he lightly scolded, prompting an eye roll from me.

"Please, Dad, I'm an adult now! Besides, I don't see how her sharing her married life with us is inappropriate," I retorted cheekily, making him shake his head and chuckle.

"Since when did you even start playing PS? I remember you used to hate it because Dylan always stole Dad's attention," Madeline remarked, smiling at her daughter, who was gently caressing her belly.

"My thoughts exactly," Dad agreed with Madeline. But my mind began wandering down a different path.

When did I start playing PS? I had tried to avoid thinking about him, but that didn't stop him from tormenting me in my dreams. Sitting here now, playing with Dad, brought back memories of us laughing and playfully taunting each other, mixed with a longing I thought I had buried deep within.

Shaking off the thoughts, I returned to the present moment. "I just missed Daddy and thought this would be a good way to bond," I said, snuggling up to Dad, who affectionately caressed my head.

"I almost forgot what a daddy's girl you are," Madeline snorted, propping her legs up on the footrest. "You keep complaining about how Mom spoils Dylan, but Dad has done the same with you."

"Why? Are you jealous that Dad is closer to me than to you? You should be satisfied with your blissful marriage," I retorted playfully, sticking my tongue out at her.

"And who told you I have a blissful marriage? Let me tell you, sis, marriage can be a real trap." Madeline interjected, her tone dripping with bitterness.

"How so? You seem to be enjoying it," I teased, earning a playful glare in return. "This is just me surviving it, okay?" she shot back.

"I remember how smitten you were with Luke. What changed?" I asked, tilting my head back. Dad already had two scores in the game, while I was still at zero.

"Ugh, don't even remind me. One of the reasons I came home is that I can't stand the thought of being alone with him." She made a gargling sound and shook her head dramatically.

"Heads up: don't get married, sis," she added, only to receive a light swat on the back of her head from Mom, who had just joined us with a tray of fruit. Madeline winced and rubbed her head.

"Stop misadvising your sister," Mom scolded lightly, then turned to me. "Marriage isn't that bad, dear," she reassured, though Madeline just snorted.

"Listen to Mom carefully and underline the key phrase: 'not that bad,' okay?" Madeline said, a mischievous grin on her face, earning her another glare from Mom.

"But I'm not making things up, Mom! Before we got married, Luke was so sweet—surprising me with flowers and planning romantic dates. But now…" Madeline sighed, her gaze drifting down to her hands. "It's just not the same anymore. There's no thrill, no excitement."

"And who told you that marriage is all roses? Your way of thinking disappoints me, Maddy," Mom replied sternly, disappointment evident in her voice.

"I think what your mom means is that you young people enter marriage thinking it's just like dating," Dad chimed in, his voice full of wisdom.

"Isn't it? I always thought marriage was like endless dating. People get married because they love each other and want to be together for a lifetime, right?" I asked, genuinely curious about their perspectives.

Dad chuckled softly. "While love is certainly a crucial foundation for a successful marriage, there's more to it. Marriage is a continuous cultivation of love and commitment, requiring effort and compromise from both partners. It's not just about the initial excitement; it's about nurturing the relationship through the ups and downs of life."

"That sounds complicated," I muttered, a bit daunted by the reality of it all.

"Where's the fun when everything goes smoothly?" Mom asked, turning to my sister and reaching for her hand, caressing it gently.

"Marriage is a lifetime commitment, and that's a long time, dear. Think of it like a math problem: you have to solve equations, make adjustments, and sometimes even find creative solutions. But the satisfaction of figuring it out together and growing as a couple is what makes it all worthwhile. Look at your father and me—decades later, and we're still here, happily."

Madeline smiled, her eyes shining with admiration for our parents' enduring love. "I guess you're right. Strangely, I feel like I'm missing him already." We all laughed at her playful exaggeration.

"Mom, Dad, how did you guys meet? Was it love at first glance?" I asked suddenly, curious about their love story. I had never asked before, and I thought hearing it might help with my writer's block.

My parents exchanged a knowing glance, as if they'd been waiting for us to ask.

"How can I put it? Your father was like a plan gone wrong," Mom said with a wistful smile, prompting Dad to chuckle.

"Was he not your type back then?" Madeline asked, amusement dancing in her eyes as she picked at a piece of apple. I shifted in my seat, eager for the answer, the game long forgotten.

"Of course not! How could I not be her type? Have you met me?" Dad boasted, eliciting an eye roll from Mom.

"It wasn't about that," she continued, her tone softening. "I had just broken up with my longtime boyfriend and vowed never to fall in love again when, on the very same day, I ran into your father."

"Wait, please don't tell me you were hurt and decided to have a one-night stand that resulted in me, and that's why you had to marry and fall in love later," Madeline interjected, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Dad picked up a pillow and playfully threw it at her, causing us all to burst into laughter. "Hey now, let's not jump to conclusions! How do I have such dirty-minded children?" he teased, joining in the fun.

"We did not... do that." I chuckled at how bashful Mom looked. "I was heartbroken and bitter and loathsome toward men, so just imagine what happened when your dad literally ran into me."

"What happened then?" I leaned in closer, curiosity piqued, eager for the rest of the story.

"She hit me with a baseball bat!" Dad exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder in mock pain. "I never saw it coming. Your mom may be small, but she's got quite the swing."

The room erupted in laughter once more, the image of Mom swinging a bat at Dad making us all howl with delight. Mom blushed under our teasing glances, her embarrassment only adding to the humor.

"What? Where did she even get the baseball bat?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the unexpected turn of events.

Dad grinned. "Unfortunately for me, I was on my way to baseball practice that day."

"I was a coward back then and hated confrontation, but the angrier I got, the more I wanted to beat that sun of a gun to a pulp. Your dad just happened to bump into me at that moment, causing me to fall on my butt and spill all my belongings. I was furious and embarrassed, so without thinking, I grabbed his baseball bat and hit him with it."

Poor Dad. I couldn't help but picture the scene. Who would have thought Mom was the violent one?

"By the time I came to my senses, I was overwhelmed with guilt and regret. I realized my anger had clouded my judgment and led me to commit a terrible act of violence. I knew I had to make it right and apologize," Mom continued.

"Thankfully, the bat was fake, so it didn't hurt. I had planned to pull a prank on my best friend by switching the bats before the game; who knew it would come in handy when meeting your mother?" Dad chuckled, shaking his head.

"But you still lied to me! You made me believe you were injured, so I had to buy you coffee, take you places, and spend my pocket money that day," Mom pouted, her eyes narrowing playfully at Dad.

"Well, it's not every day I meet a crazy spitfire—and a beautiful one at that," Dad said, twirling a strand of her hair, causing Mom to blush as she playfully swatted his hand away. But he just placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"Besides, we wouldn't be us if I didn't torture you a little," he added teasingly, making me and Madeline exchange amused glances.

Mom's pout gradually turned into a smile as she melted into his embrace. "And I fell for you that very same day."

"And I've been falling more and more for you ever since," Dad replied softly, his voice filled with affection. Mom's eyes sparkled as she leaned in, sealing their enduring bond with a gentle kiss.

"Okay, if you guys keep being all mushy, I'm going to puke!" Madeline's joke broke the beautiful moment, sending us all into fits of laughter. Yet, despite the teasing, I couldn't help but think how sweet and odd their relationship was. Witnessing their affection made me believe that true love really does exist.

"You fell in love with Dad the same day your heart was broken. Is that even possible? I thought people needed time to heal and learn to trust again," I mused aloud. From everything I'd seen and read about love, it seemed rare for someone to find it so quickly after experiencing heartbreak.

"People like to believe that," Mom replied, her voice steady. "But love isn't a scheduled event. It doesn't adhere to a timetable or societal norms. The heart is a wild thing; it recognizes its counterpart and can fall in love at first sight. It's innocent, acting on instinct, which is why we have our brains—to guide us and make sensible decisions. But sometimes, the heart takes over and defies reason, leading people to find love unexpectedly soon after their hearts have been broken."

Mom's words lingered in my mind, making me reflect on my own situation. If it were indeed possible to fall for someone so soon after heartbreak, could it mean he felt the same way about me? Was he grappling with the conflict between his heart and his reasoning, trying to follow the rigid rules we humans had created for love?

"Whoa, have you seen this, Mandy?" My sister's voice broke through my thoughts.

"What is it?" I asked, scooting closer to her.

She held up her phone, displaying an article that had recently gone viral about an influencer I knew well.

The headline blared, "The Truth Behind Influencer Magda Wealth!"

I gasped, my heart racing as I delved into the article. It revealed shocking details about Magda's deceptive tactics and how she had manipulated her followers for personal gain.

"Which wretched blogger wrote this?" I exclaimed, anger surging through me. "I need to call Carrie." I hurriedly made my way toward my bedroom, my mind racing with thoughts of how to defend Magda.