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Chapter 163 – Liam's POV
I used to think being the oldest kid in the family was cool… until my six-year-old sister Hope started copying everything I did. And don't get me started on the twins — Aiden and Alina. They're only five, but somehow they think they run the world.
"Liiiiiiaaaam!" Hope called from downstairs, dragging out my name like she always did when she needed something.
I groaned and flopped back on my bed. "What now?" I muttered, already knowing I wasn't going to get any peace today.
"Mama said you should help me draw a unicorn!" she yelled again.
I rolled my eyes. "I don't know how to draw unicorns!"
"Yes, you do!" she shouted back.
I dragged myself downstairs like a tired old man. "You literally draw the same unicorn every day, Hope."
"Yeah, but today I want a flying one," she said seriously, handing me a pink crayon. "With rainbow wings."
I almost laughed. "You do know unicorns don't fly, right?"
She looked at me like I had just told her chocolate wasn't real. "Then why do they have wings in cartoons?"
Good point.
I sat beside her on the living room floor, and together we scribbled what looked more like a rainbow cow than a unicorn, but she loved it anyway. Just as I was finishing the last wing, chaos exploded from the kitchen.
"Aiden! Stop throwing cereal!" Alina screamed.
"I'm not throwing it — I'm launching it!" Aiden yelled, holding a spoon like a catapult. "I'm doing an experiment!"
"Your experiment is making a mess!" Alina squealed.
I groaned and stood up, just as Aunt Amara ran into the kitchen. "Aiden! Alina! Oh my God, what did I say about science experiments at breakfast?!"
Uncle Ethan walked in behind her, rubbing his temples. "At this rate, we'll need another house just to survive breakfast."
I couldn't help but laugh. This was my family — messy, loud, and totally impossible.
Sometimes I missed how quiet things used to be when it was just me, Mama, and Dad. But now? Now I had cousins, a little sister, and an endless supply of noise.
Mama always said families grow like trees — new branches keep sprouting whether you're ready or not. I didn't always get what she meant, but looking at Aiden with cereal stuck in his hair and Alina bossing him around like a mini general, I kind of understood.
After cleaning up the kitchen (which mostly meant Uncle Ethan doing the sweeping while we hid), we all sat down in the backyard. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and Hope insisted we all play a game she made up called "Magical Land."
"She's the queen," I whispered to Aiden. "We're doomed."
"She made me a goblin," he said dramatically. "Again."
We spent the next hour pretending the grass was lava, the trees were castles, and Alina was a fairy with "healing glitter." I don't know how she kept finding real glitter, but every time she did, she threw it in my hair like it was part of some royal ceremony.
After "Magical Land" came snack time, then drawing, then another argument about who got the last juice box. It was wild, but it was kind of fun too.
Later that evening, I found Mama sitting in the garden with Dad. They were just… smiling at each other like weird grown-ups in love.
"Hey, kiddo," Dad said, noticing me. "Tired yet?"
"Exhausted," I said, flopping onto the grass beside them. "Hope made me draw five unicorns and Alina turned me into a glitter monster."
Mama laughed. "You're the best big brother."
"I didn't even ask for this job," I teased.
"You were born for it," she said, brushing my hair back. "And you're really good at it."
I didn't say anything, but that made me feel warm inside. I liked knowing I was doing something right — even if it was just helping Hope chase butterflies or stopping Aiden from mixing ketchup and milk again.
When it got dark, we all gathered in the living room for movie night. Blankets were everywhere. Hope curled up beside me, already half-asleep. The twins were on the floor, whispering and giggling. Dad was holding Mama's hand, and uncle Ethan had Aunt Amara snuggled against him on the couch.
The movie was something about dragons and friendship — I barely watched it. I just kept looking around the room, thinking… this is home.
Not because it was perfect. It wasn't. We fought, we spilled stuff, we made noise. But everyone here loved each other, even if we didn't always say it.
Hope mumbled something in her sleep and grabbed my hand. Her tiny fingers curled around mine like she never wanted to let go.
And right then, I realized something:
Even though I used to wish I was an only child again, I wouldn't trade this chaos for anything.
Because having a family — a real, crazy, messy, loud family — means you're never alone. There's always someone to annoy you, hug you, cheer for you, or even throw glitter in your hair.
And even though I'll never admit it out loud…
I kind of love it here.
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