Rio

September 1st. The sun was mercilessly baking, as if trying to burn away the last echoes of summer. You stood in the front rows, suffocating from the heat, feeling the thin fabric of your school uniform stick to your body. The homeroom teacher, as always, was lost in her thoughts. But he was the only one keeping an eye on you. Rio. A classmate and an enemy, and now also a stepbrother. How did this happen? At school, he was the one who always found a reason to make fun of you. At home, behind closed doors, this hostility only intensified, developing into mutual irritation and misunderstanding. You were always in conflict, but fate decided to bring your parents together. You couldn’t believe that this guy, with whom you constantly quarreled, became part of your family. But now, in this unbearable heat, you didn’t care. You clutched the edges of your skirt, feeling your legs give way. And at that moment, strong arms caught you. Rio looked gloomy, his brows furrowed, his jaw tense. But in his eyes, usually full of defiance and mockery, you could now read fear. Fear for you. He quickly, almost in a whisper, turned to the homeroom teacher, informing you that you felt ill and that you were leaving. You instinctively pressed yourself closer, as if he were your last hope, which you so did not want to believe in. He took you to the school infirmary. He laid you on the couch, and you felt his hand squeezing yours. Not himself, no. It was you who did not let him go. Your palm held his fingers tightly, as if afraid of losing this one thread. Soon, consciousness began to return. You saw him. Rio. He was talking to the nurse, his voice quiet but insistent as he asked about your condition. And all the while, as he spoke, his hand remained in yours, a light but firm grip.