Chapter 3

The walls of their tiny apartment—more shack than home—didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic anymore.

The evening breeze drifted through the cracked windows as the three siblings quietly went about their routines.

Plaifah, the eldest, sat on the corner of the worn-out couch with one earbud in, gently swaying her head to the music.

Outside, Wan, the middle child by only a few minutes, entertained himself by spinning his homemade toy across the uneven concrete.

Engfa, the youngest of the twins, sat cross-legged on the floor with her books spread around her.

Discipline had become her comfort.

Ever since their father passed away, she had made herself a promise.

One day…

She would buy her mother a real house.

One with enough bedrooms that no one had to sleep in the living room.

She would help rebuild the family restaurant.

She would make something of herself.

And she would make sure her siblings never had to wonder where tomorrow’s meal was coming from.

“What’ve you got there?”

Before she could react, Wan snatched the piece of paper from beside her notebook.

“Wan!”

He held it just out of reach with a mischievous grin.

“Plaifah!”

Engfa pointed accusingly at her older sister.

“Tell him!”

As if Plaifah was the household disciplinarian.

She wasn’t.

In this family…

Everyone survived however they could.

“When did you start drawing, Hehe?” Wan teased, laughing as Engfa stretched onto her tiptoes, desperately trying to reach the page.

He simply raised it higher.

“Give it back.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m warning you.”

“Oh?”

He smirked.

“Catch it if you can.”

He unfolded the paper.

His teasing smile slowly widened.

“Who’s this?”

He turned it toward the light.

“Wow…”

He looked back at Engfa.

“You’re too ugly for this to be you.”

He burst into laughter before playfully tugging both of her ponytails.

“Ow!”

That finally earned him Plaifah’s attention.

She slipped one earbud out.

“Come on, you two.”

“Knock it off.”

Plaifah was Twenty-three.

Wan and Engfa were nineteen-year-old twins.

Although they spent half their time teasing one another, the love between the three siblings never needed words.

It lived in shared meals, hand-me-down clothes, and the quiet understanding that no matter how hard life became…

They would face it together.

Wan looked back down at the drawing.

The playful grin slowly faded.

“…She’s really pretty.”

Engfa froze.

A blush crept onto her cheeks.

She quickly snatched the paper from his hands and held it against her chest.

“It’s… nobody.”

Wan and Plaifah exchanged knowing glances.

“Oh?”

Plaifah smiled.

“Nobody has you smiling like that?”

Engfa groaned dramatically.

“Oh my God…”

“Can everyone stop making fun of me?”

“I’m trying to study.”

“You’ve been staring at that paper longer than your homework,” Wan laughed.

“I have not.”

“You have.”

“I haven’t!”

Plaifah chuckled softly before standing.

“Leave your sister alone.”

She gently ruffled Engfa’s hair.

“Maybe she’s just found something worth dreaming about.”

Engfa looked down at the sketch.

It wasn’t perfect.

The eyes were uneven.

The smile wasn’t quite right.

But somehow…

She still recognized her.

The mysterious junior who had unknowingly become the first person to distract Engfa from her dreams.

And that thought frightened her just a little.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The violent pounding against the front door shattered the peaceful evening.

Their mother’s frightened scream followed immediately after.

“Please! Wait!”

Every sibling froze.

Then they ran.

By the time they reached the doorway, two men had cornered their mother against the weathered wooden wall outside.

One gripped her wrist.

The other stood with his hands behind his back as though he had all the time in the world.

“You have one week.”

The older man spoke without raising his voice.

“The boss will accept nothing less than full payment.”

His eyes swept over the small house.

“…Or you leave.”

Their mother’s shoulders trembled.

“I just need a little more time…”

“Please…”

“I said one week.”

Before anyone could react—

Wanchai turned and sprinted back inside.

“Wan!”

Engfa called after him.

Seconds later he came charging back, gripping the old half-machete their father once used to cut coconuts and clear the fields.

His knuckles were white.

His breathing uneven.

“Take your hands off my mother!”

The words echoed through the yard.

Everything happened at once.

Wanchai lifted the blade over his shoulder.

Before he could swing—

Click.

The metallic sound froze everyone.

The second man had drawn a pistol.

Its barrel rested against Wanchai’s temple.

Silence.

Even the evening insects seemed to disappear.

Their mother’s legs gave way.

“Please!”

She collapsed to her knees.

“Don’t kill my son!”

Plaifah stood rooted to the spot.

Her lips trembled.

No sound came out.

Engfa didn’t think.

She moved.

Stepping directly between her brother and the gun, she gently placed one hand over the barrel and slowly guided it toward the ground.

Every heartbeat felt deafening.

She looked the man straight in the eyes.

“We’re sorry.”

Her voice never shook.

“We’ll do what you say, sir.”

She glanced at her mother.

“We’ll have your money by next week.”

“…Or we’ll leave.”

The older collector studied her for a long moment.

Then…

The corners of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile.

“Smart girl.”

He nodded once.

“One week.”

He looked past Engfa toward Wanchai.

“And next time…”

He pointed at the machete still clutched in his shaking hand.

“Tell your brother to stay inside.”

Engfa gave a respectful nod.

“Noted.”

The men climbed into their truck and disappeared into the darkness.

Only after the engine faded into the distance did everyone’s bodies finally begin to move again.

Plaifah rushed to their mother, wrapping both arms around her as she sobbed into her shoulder.

Engfa carefully pried the rusted machete from Wanchai’s trembling hands.

He didn’t let go at first.

His jaw clenched.

“I almost had him.”

“No.”

Engfa pulled him into a tight embrace.

“You almost lost yourself.”

Wanchai’s anger finally cracked.

He buried his face against his sister’s shoulder like the frightened Nineteen-year-old he still was.

Ever since their father died, Wanchai had convinced himself it was his responsibility to become the man of the house.

To protect everyone.

To fight every battle.

But not every battle could be won with a blade.

Sometimes…

Strength looked like patience.

Sometimes…

It looked like compassion.

Sometimes…

It looked like the gentle hands of a sister refusing to let her family fall apart.

The Waraha family had very little.

But as Engfa looked around at her mother, her brother, and Plaifah…

She realized they still possessed the one thing no debt collector could ever take from them.

Each other.