We had been traveling as a family. My parents were tired, my older brother was irritated, and I was the easy target — the quiet kid who never fought back.
At the check-in line, my brother leaned close and whispered, “Watch this. It’ll be funny.”
I didn’t understand what he meant.
When I stepped away to refill my water bottle, he took my passport from my backpack. I didn’t notice until we were at the gate.
“Where’s your passport?” my mother snapped.
I froze. I searched my bag again and again, panic rising like fire in my chest.
“I—I had it,” I stammered.
My brother shrugged dramatically. “Maybe you lost it. Always so careless.”
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