2:57 AM.
“Shit, I’m already late”, I muttered under my breath, as I threw on a jacket and hurriedly tip-toed down the stairs.
My brother was coming back home after many months.
It was a late-night flight.
He was supposed to land between 3:00–3:15 AM.
My parents were not aware, we wanted to surprise them.
I grabbed the car keys, hastily wore some shoes I found in the dark, and quietly closed the door behind me.
As I sat in the car, I turned up the music.
I selected an old playlist labelled ‘Favourites’.
It was a mix of every song I had fallen in love with over the years.
Late-night drives are like a high for me.
The nostalgia-inducing tunes.
The serene silence.
The empty roads.
The dim lights.
The feeling of wanting to drive to nowhere in particular.
But today, I had a destination: the airport.
3:18 AM.
I made it in good time.
My brother hadn’t called yet.
I patiently waited in the car.
In The End by Linkin Park was playing on the sound system.
After a few minutes, I saw a crowd of people walking out with bags of all kinds of sizes and shapes from the exit door.
I spotted my brother and waved to get his attention. He waved back and walked towards me.
He flashed a cheeky grin at me and patted my head.
“How’re you, stupid?”.
Despite being younger, he’s 6 inches taller than I am.
I swatted his hand away.
“Was better before seeing your face, moron”.
After exchanging that wholesome greeting, we got into the car.
He let out a huge exhale.
“Feels great to be back home!”.
“Of course it does”.
We shared a moment of comfortable silence.
My brother hummed along to the music, drumming his fingers on his backpack.
We reached home in about 15 minutes.
I opened up the trunk and helped my brother with his bags.
“Did your dumbass manage to keep this entire thing a secret?”.
“Shut up”.
As we walked up to our home, I took out the key and turned it to open the door.
The rainbow-tinted glass of the Turkish-style lamp shone a colourful light.
The candles casted a warm, dim glow on the cake, the presents and the sea of balloons spread all over the floor.
Our parents beamed widely at my brother as we entered.
“Happy birthday!”, they said in a whispery, but excited voice.
His shocked expression had been a camera-worthy sight.
P.S. Like what you read?
The definition of an older sister and younger brother relationship haha. Hahah me and my brother.