A Daily Life With My 3 Stepsisters

Sunday morning broke with a fragile stillness, the kind that follows a storm but promises more chaos on the horizon. Last night's candlelit huddle—Mina snoring in my lap, Reina's soft confessions, Aiko's teasing grip—had left me rattled, my head a mess of half-formed thoughts. I'd woken early, slipping out before they stirred, needing space to breathe, to think. But in this house, space was a myth, and my stepsisters were a force I couldn't outrun.

I was in the kitchen, nursing a coffee and staring blankly at the counter, when the first crack appeared. Mina stumbled in, still half-asleep, her pajamas askew—shorts riding low, tank top twisted, hair a tangled nest. She didn't say a word, just shuffled over and flopped against me, her head thudding onto my shoulder.

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, her breath warm against my neck.

"Morning," I said, shifting to keep my coffee from spilling. "You're up early."

"Storm woke me," she said, nuzzling closer, her bare legs brushing mine under the table. "You're comfy. Stay still."

"I'm not a pillow," I said, but I didn't push her off. Her weight was familiar now, a chaotic anchor I'd stopped resisting.

"Liar," she muttered, her hand sliding to my arm, gripping loosely. "You're the best pillow."

I snorted, sipping my coffee, letting her doze there. The kitchen was quiet, the storm's aftermath leaving a damp chill in the air, but Mina's warmth cut through it, grounding me in a way I didn't want to admit. Day eighteen, and I was already sinking deeper—her clinginess, once annoying, now felt like a tether I couldn't shake.

Reina came in next, her steps soft, her presence a gentle contrast to Mina's sprawl. She'd pulled her hair into a loose bun, her sweater hanging off one shoulder, shorts showing off legs I tried not to notice. She carried a tray of leftover cookies from the other night, setting it down with a small smile.

"Good morning, Kaito-kun," she said, her voice soft as she glanced at Mina. "She's still tired, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, meeting her eyes. "Guess last night wore her out."

"Last night was nice," she said, sitting across from me. Her fingers brushed the tray, hesitant. "I didn't expect us all to… end up like that."

"Me neither," I said, my chest tightening at the memory—her closeness, the candlelight, the way her words had slipped under my skin. "But it wasn't bad."

Her smile widened, soft and real. "I'm glad. I… I like it when we're together. All of us."

"Even with Mina drooling on me?" I asked, nodding at the lump still clinging to my side.

Reina giggled, covering her mouth. "Even then. She's part of it, you know? The mess."

"Yeah," I said, a small laugh escaping. "Can't argue that."

The moment stretched, quiet and warm, the kind I'd started to crave without realizing it. Reina reached for a cookie, breaking it in half, and slid one piece toward me. "Here. Breakfast."

"Thanks," I said, taking it. Our fingers brushed—barely, but enough to send a jolt through me, her touch lingering in my head longer than it should've.

Mina stirred, mumbling something incoherent before sitting up, blinking at the cookies. "Food?" she said, snatching one and shoving it into her mouth. "Reina, you're the best."

"You're welcome," Reina said, laughing as Mina slumped back against me, crumbs tumbling onto my shirt.

"Clean up after yourself," I said, brushing them off, but she just grinned, unfazed.

"Nope," she said, leaning harder into me. "You're my big bro. Deal with it."

"I'm not—" I started, but the door swung open, and Aiko strode in, cutting me off.

She was a sight—hair loose, tank top tight, leggings hugging her curves, her smirk sharp as ever. She carried a mug of something steaming, her eyes flicking over the scene—Mina sprawled on me, Reina smiling, cookies on the table.

"Morning, lovebirds," she said, dropping into a chair with a stretch that pulled her top up, flashing a strip of skin I couldn't unsee. "What's this, breakfast date?"

"No," I said, too fast, my face heating up as Mina giggled.

"Looks like one," Aiko said, sipping her drink. Her leg brushed mine under the table, deliberate, her smirk widening as I tensed. "Kaito's got his hands full already."

"He's fine," Reina said, her cheeks pink but her voice steady. "Right, Kaito-kun?"

"Yeah," I said, though my pulse was racing—Aiko's touch, Mina's weight, Reina's eyes all hitting me at once. "Totally fine."

"Liar," Aiko teased, her foot nudging mine again. "You're sweating."

"Shut up," I muttered, shoving Mina off enough to breathe. She slid to the floor with a dramatic groan, sprawling there like a cat.

"Rude," she said, grabbing another cookie. "I'm staying here now."

"Fine by me," Aiko said, leaning forward, her elbows on the table. "Leaves more room for us, right, Reina?"

Reina blushed harder, fiddling with her half-cookie. "Stop it, Aiko. You're embarrassing him."

"He likes it," Aiko said, her eyes locking on mine, sharp and knowing. "Don't you, Kaito?"

I didn't answer, couldn't—my head was a mess, their voices tangling with the heat creeping up my neck. Mina crawled back onto the bench, wedging herself between me and the table, her back against my chest now, her hair tickling my chin.

"Too crowded," she mumbled, but she didn't move, her warmth sinking into me.

"Deal with it," Aiko said, echoing Mina's earlier words with a grin. "You're stuck with us, remember?"

"Yeah," I said, quieter than I meant, the weight of it settling in. Stuck wasn't the word anymore—it was deeper, heavier, something I couldn't name but felt in every brush of skin, every glance.

The kitchen filled with their chatter—Mina whining about the storm, Aiko teasing her, Reina laughing softly—but I was only half-there, caught in the pull of them. Reina's gentle smile, Aiko's sly edge, Mina's chaotic clinginess—they were carving me open, piece by piece, and I didn't know how to stop it. Didn't want to.

Breakfast stretched into a lazy morning, the four of us lingering around the table. Dad and Hana were still out—some weekend errand—so the house was ours, a bubble of noise and warmth against the gray outside. Mina eventually flopped onto the floor again, dragging a blanket from the couch to cocoon herself, muttering about naps. Reina cleared the plates, her movements quiet, her glances at me soft and frequent. Aiko stayed put, her leg still brushing mine, her smirk a constant challenge.

"You're quiet," she said, breaking the lull as Reina rinsed dishes at the sink. "Thinking too hard again?"

"Maybe," I said, leaning back, trying to play it cool. "What's it to you?"

"Everything," she said, her voice low, teasing but edged with something real. "You're fun when you're rattled."

"I'm not rattled," I lied, but her grin said she didn't buy it.

"Sure," she said, standing with a stretch that pulled her top higher, her hips swaying as she moved to the counter. "Keep telling yourself that."

I watched her go, my throat dry, then glanced at Reina, who'd turned to dry her hands, her eyes catching mine. "Kaito-kun," she said, stepping closer, "are you okay? You seem… off."

"I'm fine," I said, softer, her concern hitting me harder than Aiko's taunts. "Just… tired, I guess."

"You should rest," she said, her hand brushing my arm—light, fleeting, but enough to make my skin buzz. "Last night was a lot."

"Yeah," I said, holding her gaze a beat too long. "It was."

Mina's voice piped up from her blanket pile. "Stop being mushy! Kaito, come nap with me!"

"No," I said, but I couldn't help a laugh, the tension breaking.

Aiko leaned against the counter, smirking at us. "He's got better options than you, kid."

"Like you?" Mina shot back, poking her head out.

"Maybe," Aiko said, winking at me. "What do you say, Kaito?"

"Shut up," I said, standing to escape, but Reina's laugh followed me, light and warm, and Mina's whine chased it, loud and ridiculous.

I made it to the living room, dropping onto the couch, the echoes of their voices spilling from the kitchen. Day eighteen, and the calm was cracking—splinters of something sharper breaking through. Reina's touch, Aiko's heat, Mina's pull—they weren't just stepsisters anymore, not in my head. They were something else, something I couldn't dodge or deny.

The storm had passed, but a new one was brewing—inside me, around me, between us. And as I sat there, their laughter filtering through the walls, I knew this was just the start. The cracks were widening, and whatever came next, I wasn't ready—but I wasn't running either.