"Maybe he just turned off the watch himself," Brent quipped as he grabbed Aubrey in a tight hold. "Why are you so worried? You can't leave. It's Thanksgiving. You promised you'd spend it with me."

Aubrey sighed and patted him on the head. "I'll just go take a look. As long as he's safe, I'll come right back."

"I'll send someone to check on him," Brent insisted, refusing to back down. "You have to stay home with me today!"

Aubrey frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Brent suddenly grabbed the fruit knife off the table and pressed it against his neck.

"If you dare take one step out that door today, I'll kill myself right in front of you!"

Mom and Dad screamed in panic. Equally alarmed, Aubrey quickly raised her hands and tried to calm him down.

"Okay, okay! I won't go. Just put the knife down first!"

A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Brent's eyes as he tossed the knife aside.

"You just want to check in on him. It's not like you have to do it yourself," he said. "Don't worry. I'll make the arrangements."

Still shaken, Aubrey bent down, picked up the knife, and returned it to the kitchen.

"Don't grab a knife so recklessly again," she said. "What if you get hurt?"

Seeing the worry on her face, a dull ache spread through my chest.

When I was little, she'd always panic whenever I was gone for more than two hours. Back then, she behaved exactly the same way. She would scold me, but the concern on her face was barely contained.

"Do you know how long I've been looking for you? Who told you to run off by yourself? What if something happened?" she would ask.

But ever since Brent had been brought back home, I had become invisible. Even if I deliberately stayed out all night, no one was concerned.

Still in my teens back then, I couldn't understand it. I had asked Aubrey, with tears brimming in my eyes, why she didn't look for me anymore.

She had simply chuckled as she shook her head. "Don't you have a watch with a GPS now, Gary? I've told you before—the watch shows you the way home. You can always find your own way back."

After all these years, those words still echoed in my mind. The things I couldn't wrap my head around back then, I finally understood now.

The way home? The moment Brent returned, I no longer had a home.

The following afternoon, Brent showed Aubrey a video. In it, only my back was visible.

His assistant, Trevor Prescott, asked, "Mr. Gary, would you like to come home?"

Without turning around, "I" replied impatiently, "Tell Mom and Dad that I'm doing great here, and I'm never going back."

"What happened to your watch?" Trevor asked again.

"I turned it off," I answered flatly.

The video was obviously fabricated, but Aubrey didn't notice. She seemingly didn't care what "I" had said, and instead just let out a sigh of relief.

"As long as Gary's okay, then that's all that matters," she said with a smile. "It looks like he's adjusted pretty well to life over there. I'll go bring him back after Christmas."

Brent nearly exploded. "Did you not hear him say he never wants to come back?"

Aubrey shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just a phase. There's no place better than home. He'll grow tired of living there in a few days."

"Tell your assistant to leave Gary some extra money," she added. "Make sure he has enough to spend."

With that, she headed out the door for work, completely missing the resentment brewing in Brent's eyes.

The moment the front door shut, Brent immediately called Trevor.

"Find a random place and bury Gary's body. Damn it! He's already dead, and my sister still can't stop thinking about him! What a bastard!"

Trevor had clearly never done something like this before, and his voice trembled slightly as he asked, "What… What if someone finds out?"

"What are you scared of? It's not like you killed him. If anything, you're doing a good deed by burying him!"

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and an eerie, cold sneer curled across his lips.

"Oh, right, bring me his phone too. Aubrey will definitely message him. If nobody replies, she'll start getting suspicious."

Just like that, Brent stopped making a scene for the next few days following Thanksgiving.

Our parents were happy. Whenever my name came up in conversation, they'd usually say something like, "If we'd known Brent would return to normal the moment Gary left, we would've sent him away sooner."

Aubrey was the only person in the entire family who still worried about me. She frequently texted me, asking if I'd eaten, slept, or if I was having fun.

"I" always replied coldly, rarely exceeding three words. But Aubrey assumed that I was simply having too much fun to text, so she didn't think too much of it.

This continued right up to a few days before Christmas, when Brent threw out everything that belonged to me and turned my room into one for a dog.

When Aubrey got home from work, she walked in just in time to see workers dismantling my bed and mounting dog toys onto the walls. Her face darkened.

"Who told you to do this?" she asked, her voice icy.

The workers jumped at her voice.

"I did," Brent said from behind her. "Gary isn't coming back anyway, so there's no point in keeping this room empty."

Aubrey turned, obvious displeasure flashing across her face. "I already told you I'm bringing Gary home after Christmas. How could you decide unilaterally to turn his room into—"

"Decide unilaterally?" Brent's voice rose sharply. "What? Is this not my house? I'm not even allowed to renovate a room now?"

Aubrey fought to keep her temper in check. "You should've at least told me beforehand. There aren't any other spare rooms left. Where do you expect Gary to stay?"

"Gary, Gary, Gary! He's all you ever care about!" Brent roared, his chest heaving violently as his emotions spiraled out of control. "I'm your biological brother! Do I even matter to you?"

"What's going on now?"

Hearing the commotion, our parents rushed out. The moment they sensed the tension between Brent and Aubrey, they broke out in a cold sweat.

"I've already told you I don't like him!" Brent screamed hysterically. "Why do you guys always have to bring him up in front of me? Are you only going to be satisfied after you drive me to my death? I'll go kill myself right now! That'll make you happy, won't it?"

Mom's face turned white with fear. She quickly grabbed Brent's hand and barked furiously at Aubrey. "What did you say to him now?"

Aubrey looked both exhausted and frustrated.

"He turned Gary's room into a dog room," she explained, her voice slightly hoarse. "I only said—"

"Can you stop causing trouble?" Mom cut her off with a furious shout. "How many times has Gary texted you that he's not coming back? What part of that do you not understand? And now you're upsetting Brent so badly over a room? What kind of sister are you?"

Aubrey froze. Slowly, she pressed her lips into a tight line and didn't say anything.

When Brent heard my name, it was like someone had flipped a switch. He yanked his hand free from Mom's grip and charged toward the wall.

"I don't want to live anymore! Let me die! She'll finally be happy when I die!"

The momentum sent Mom sprawling to the floor. Fortunately, Dad reacted quickly enough and managed to grab hold of Brent.

The house descended into absolute chaos. The workers stood there awkwardly, clutching their tools, unsure whether to continue working or to leave.

Meanwhile, Brent kept screaming about wanting to die so he could finally be free from all of this.

Suddenly, Mom scrambled to her feet and lunged at Aubrey. Raising her hand, she delivered two hard slaps across her face.

Aubrey's head snapped to the side, and her cheek instantly swelled bright red. Clutching her face, she stared in utter disbelief at our usually gentle mother, whose eyes were bloodshot with rage.

"I'm warning you, Aubrey Cochran," Mom roared. "If you dare mention Gary in this house again, I'll sever all ties with you!"

"We've been good to Gary all these years. He's the one who said he doesn't want to come home. It's not that we don't want him! If something happens to Brent because of you and Gary, I won't forgive either of you, even after I'm dead!"

Those words were unbearably cruel. Aubrey's eyelashes trembled slightly, and her eyes slowly turned red. Only after a long silence did she finally speak up, her voice carrying a hint of bitter mockery.

"Fine. I'll never mention Gary Cochran in this house again."

With that, she turned around, walked into her bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind her.

Mom and Dad were too busy comforting Brent to notice Aubrey's emotional state. Worried about her, I drifted into her room, just in time to see her pull out her phone to send me a message.

"Gary, I'll come pick you up tomorrow."

Her eyes were so red they looked like they were bleeding. Until now, I'd never seen her look so deeply wronged.

The reply she received was cold and heartless.

"No need. I'm not going back. I have a new sister now."

She instantly panicked.

"Where's the watch I gave you? You promised you'd always wear it!"

As long as the watch was turned on, she could use the GPS location to track me. But my reply only made her grip her phone tightly.

"I threw it away. It's useless now, so why keep it?"

After that day, Aubrey absolutely spoiled Brent to no end.

She thought the room Brent designed for the dog didn't look good, so she redrew the plans herself and personally oversaw the renovation.

If she spotted any of my belongings in the house, her expression would immediately darken, and she'd order the housekeeper to throw them out.

Our parents assumed that she'd just been speaking in anger before, but to their surprise, she still never mentioned me even once, even with Christmas fast approaching.

Only I knew that Aubrey had been deeply hurt by those two messages. She was angry.

Regardless, the atmosphere at home got better with each passing day. Brent stopped throwing his fits, and, aside from being a little short-tempered, he no longer threatened suicide.

On Christmas Eve, the whole family gathered to make dinner together. Aubrey specifically cut some lasagna sheets into heart shapes and told everyone that that section of the lasagna was for Brent.

Brent beamed with happiness. "You're so good to me, Aubrey."

"Go watch TV. You don't need to help with this," she said, smiling at him indulgently.

That evening, everyone sat together eating dinner and watching Christmas Eve programming. My parents laughed heartily at the comedy skits, while Brent sat between them, occasionally commenting on which performances were better.

Only Aubrey sat alone on a couch further away, completely distracted, thinking about who knew what.

After a long while, her gaze darkened. As if finally mustering enough courage, she pulled out her phone and clicked on my chat window.

"Merry Christmas".

She typed the words quickly and hit send. But the very next second, a red exclamation mark appeared. She froze. Hurt and disbelief flashed through her eyes.

I let out a sigh. Brent had already used my phone to block her a while ago.

Aubrey's fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles turned white. Then she tapped the option to send a friend request. When she reached the note section, her gaze grew colder by the second.

"Have you forgotten the kindness the Cochran family showed by raising you? How much money have I spent on you all these years? Fine. Since you don't want this family anymore, let's calculate how much money you actually owe us, then pay back every cent!"

After typing all that, she clicked send, then irritably shoved the phone back into her pocket. But just as she did so, the phone buzzed with a news notification.

Her eyes glanced over the article, and all the color instantly drained from her face.

"Villagers in Maple Hollow unearth an unidentified male corpse. Forensic examiners estimate the time of death was around Thanksgiving. An urgent search for the deceased's family is underway!"

In the accompanying photo, the corpse's face was already half-decomposed.

And it looked exactly like me.