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MidReal Story
My brother
Scenario:a young woman falls in love with her brother
Create my version of this story
Emily
She is a young woman struggling with her feelings for her brother. She is conflicted, emotional, and impulsive. Emily finds herself attracted to her brother, which causes her to feel guilty and confused. She tries to distract herself from these feelings by focusing on work and spending time with friends. However, she can't shake off the intense emotions she has for her brother, leading to a breakdown.
Ben
He is Emily's older brother who works as a firefighter. He is protective, dedicated, and caring. Ben saves a woman from a burning building, demonstrating his bravery and selflessness. He also struggles with feelings of loneliness and the loss of his parents at a young age. Despite being Emily's brother, he doesn't address her feelings towards him, adding to her internal conflict.
Matt
He is Emily's colleague and friend who works in IT. He is witty, supportive, and straightforward. Matt notices Emily's attraction to Ben and teases her about it. He tries to help Emily distract herself from her feelings by taking her out for drinks and engaging in light conversation. Although not directly involved in Emily's romantic feelings for Ben, Matt plays a role in providing comic relief and support during difficult times.
I was in love with my brother.
I know it was wrong and I could never let him know.
It was the worst kept secret ever.
I was young and impulsive, but I knew I couldn’t act on my feelings.
I tried to keep myself busy with work and spending time with friends, but nothing seemed to work.
My feelings for my brother only grew stronger.
I was a mess, emotionally and physically.
I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I always did when I was down—I called my best friend layla
But instead of getting advice, all she did was tell me to follow my heart.
Follow my heart?
That would mean telling my brother that I was in love with him and risk losing our relationship?
No, thank you.
I wasn’t planning on doing that anytime soon.
"layla, why are you telling me to follow my heart? That’s not going to work. Besides, he’s my brother. It’s wrong," I said, trying not to sound too desperate.
"I know he’s your brother, but sometimes the heart just knows better. You should at least try," she said softly.
"Trying will only lead to disappointment. Besides, he doesn’t even know I exist," I said bitterly.
I slump against the wall of my bedroom, phone pressed to my ear as her words echo in my mind.
The afternoon sun casts long shadows through my window, illuminating the dust motes that dance lazily in the air.
I trace absent patterns on the carpet with my fingers, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
Memories of Ben flood my thoughts - his smile at breakfast this morning, the way his firefighter uniform hangs by the door.
Layla waits patiently on the line, her breathing steady and reassuring.
I open my mouth to speak, then close it again, unsure of how much to reveal.
Finally, I gather my courage and whisper, "There's something else I haven’t told you."
"Something else?" Layla's voice sharpens with curiosity.
"Yeah, I think he might have feelings for me too," I confess, my heart pounding.
There's a pause before she replies, "Then you need to talk to him, before this eats you alive."
After we hang up, I pace my room, unable to shake the urge to communicate with Ben somehow.
I grab my laptop and open it, only to close it again immediately.
An email feels too casual for what I want to say.
My gaze falls on my desk, where a stack of cream-colored stationery sits.
It was a graduation gift from my aunt, never used until now.
I pull out a sheet and sit down, my hand trembling as I date the page.
I start writing, then crumple the paper in frustration.
Five attempts later, the words finally flow.
Dear Ben,
You light up my mornings with your smile and fill my heart with pride every time you save a life.you are my greatest weekness.every time i look at you i get tingles down my spine.
But these feelings make me feel guilty, and I don't know how to process them.
Yours always,
Emily
After sealing the envelope, I hear footsteps in the hallway - the familiar heavy tread of Ben's work boots.
My heart pounds as I hastily stuff the letter into my desk drawer.
The door creaks open before I can fully close it.
Ben stands there in his ash-stained uniform, looking exhausted from his shift.
The scent of smoke clings to him.
Our eyes meet and I freeze, one hand still on the drawer handle.
He notices my startled expression and takes a half-step forward, concern crossing his face.
The letter feels like it's burning in the drawer between us.
My fingers tighten around the drawer handle as he moves closer.
His concerned expression makes this moment even harder.
The desk lamp casts shadows across his face, accentuating the worry lines around his eyes.
I release the handle slowly, trying to appear casual, and step away from the desk.
Ben leans against my bedroom wall, crossing his arms over his ash-stained uniform.
The familiar scent of smoke fills my nostrils.
I perch on the edge of my bed, gathering courage.
My throat feels dry, and I reach for the water glass on my nightstand, taking a small sip.
The words I've practiced countless times now feel stuck.
Ben shifts his weight, still leaning against the wall.
His eyes drift to the photo on my nightstand - us as kids at the beach, smiling and carefree.
I follow his gaze, remembering the laughter and simplicity of those days.
The drawer with my letter feels like it's pulsing behind me.
Ben clears his throat, pulling me back to the present.
He reaches into his uniform pocket and pulls out a worn envelope, its edges creased from being carried close to his heart.
My stomach drops as I recognize Mom's handwriting.
He turns the envelope over in his ash-stained hands, searching for words.
The seal is broken, recently opened.
His fingers trace the edge of the envelope as he struggles to speak.
"Emily, layla gave this to me," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, my heart pounding, unsure of what the letter might contain.
"She wrote about you, about us... and how she hoped we'd find our way back to each other."
Ben's fingers tremble as he pulls out the letter and begins to read it aloud.
His voice catches on certain words, betraying his emotions.
I can't focus on the content, too distracted by how close he stands to my desk, to the drawer with my confession.
When he finishes reading, Ben sets the letter down on the edge of my desk, directly on top of the drawer that holds my own truth.
He turns to me, his firefighter uniform brushing against my arm as he moves closer.
The scent of smoke is stronger now, mingling with his familiar cologne.
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
He reaches out and gently takes my hand in his.
His skin is rough from years of work, a reminder of all he's been through for us.
I try to step back, but my legs won't move.
"Emily, there's something I need to tell you," Ben says, his voice steady but laced with urgency.
I swallow hard, knowing this moment is inevitable.
"Layla's letter... it made me realize I've been holding back, and I can't do that anymore."
I stare at his hand still holding mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
The drawer handle glints in my peripheral vision, taunting me.
My confession letter sits just inches away, under laylas's letter that Ben placed there moments ago.
The smoke smell from his uniform grows stronger as he takes another step closer.
He's still trying to find the words, and I can't breathe.
His grip on my hand tightens when I shift toward the desk.
My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for the drawer again.
The silence stretches between us like a fragile thread.
Ben's eyes lock onto mine, filled with a mix of determination and fear.
I know I need to show him my letter before I lose my nerve.
"Emily, I need you to know that I've always loved you," Ben says, his voice breaking the silence.
I freeze, my heart skipping a beat as his words sink in.
"And if there's anything in that drawer you want to share with me, I'm ready to hear it."
My hands tremble as I reach for the drawer handle.
The wood is smooth against my sweaty palm.
Ben's eyes follow my movement, his grip on my hand loosening just enough.
The drawer slides open with a soft scrape.
My confession letter sits there, cream-colored paper stark against the dark wood.
I pick it up slowly, the paper's edge catching on a loose receipt.
The familiar scent of smoke from Ben's uniform fills the air as he watches, waiting.
His breathing seems to match mine - quick, nervous.
Without looking at him, I extend my arm, offering him the letter.
Ben takes the letter from my hand, his fingers brushing mine gently.
"Emily, whatever's in here, it won't change how I feel," he says, his voice steady but soft.
I nod, unable to speak, as he carefully unfolds the paper and begins to read.
I watch his face intently as his eyes scan my handwritten words.
My heart thunders in my chest, the only sound in the room.
His expression shifts from concentration to something softer as he reaches the part about his morning smile.
The paper trembles slightly in his ash-stained hands.
When he finishes, Ben carefully folds the letter and places it on my desk.
Time seems to freeze as he turns back to me.
Without speaking, he steps forward and opens his arms.
The familiar scent of smoke grows stronger as he moves closer.
He steps closer, his breath warm against my cheek.
The room feels electric, charged with the weight of our shared secret.
His fingers trace the line of my jaw, leaving faint smudges of ash on my skin.
His other hand still holds my confession letter, now crumpled between us.
The smoke scent from his uniform mingles with the warmth of his body as he tilts my chin upward.
My heart hammers against my ribs while his dark eyes search mine, asking a silent question.
I grip the edge of my desk for support, feeling dizzy from his proximity.
I hold my breath as his ash-covered fingers continue to trace the line of my jaw.
The confession letter trembles in his other hand while his dark eyes search mine.
The fabric of his firefighter uniform presses against my skin, the smell of smoke making me lightheaded.
When his lips part, I prepare myself for rejection.
But instead, he whispers those impossible words - that he feels the same.
My legs weaken as his thumb strokes my cheek.
The letter drops to the floor as he pulls me closer, his heart pounding against my palm.
I lean into his touch, his calloused fingers still tracing the line of my jaw.
The confession letter lies crumpled at our feet as he draws me closer.
His dark eyes search mine, asking a silent question.
The smoke smell from his uniform fills my lungs with each shallow breath.
My hands shake as they rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the thick fabric.
Ben's other hand slides to the small of my back, steadying me against him.
"Do you really mean it?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've felt this way for so long, but I never knew how to tell you."
I stand there, frozen in his embrace.
His ash-covered hand is warm against the small of my back, and the other cups my face.
The crumpled confession letter lies forgotten at our feet.
His dark eyes search mine as he slowly leans forward, closing the distance between us.
The smoke smell from his uniform fills my head, making me dizzy.
My fingers grip his chest harder, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my palm.
His breath brushes my lips, smelling faintly of coffee.
I feel his heart racing under my palm as his ash-covered fingers continue to caress my face.
The smoke from his uniform fills my senses, making me lightheaded.
Our crumpled confessions lie forgotten on the floor while his other hand presses firmly against my lower back.
His dark eyes search mine, asking permission without words.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his uniform as he draws me closer.
His coffee-scented breath mingles with mine.
The familiar scent of his skin beneath the smoke makes my head spin.
I feel his hand tighten on my lower back as his other hand cups my face.
The ash leaves streaks on my skin, but I don't care.
The smoke from his uniform fills my lungs with each shaky breath.
His dark eyes search mine, waiting.
My fingers grip the rough fabric of his uniform while his thumb traces the line of my bottom lip.
The crumpled confession letters on the floor remind me this is real.
My heart pounds against his chest as I rise slightly on my toes.
Ben's coffee-scented breath warms my face.
His lips part slightly, drawing me closer.
I stare at his parted lips, his thumb still tracing mine while his other hand presses firmly against my lower back.
The smoke from his uniform makes my head swim as I grip the fabric tighter.
His dark eyes search my face, waiting.
My heart pounds against his chest as I slowly rise on my tiptoes, steadying myself with trembling hands against his shoulders.
The crumpled confession letters crunch under my feet as I lean in, drawn by his coffee-scented breath.
Our lips meet, and the world falls away.
I break the kiss first, my lips tingling as I pull back just enough to whisper my question.
Ben's dark eyes stay fixed on mine while his ash-covered fingers continue tracing patterns on my back through my thin shirt.
The crumpled confession letters remain under our feet as we stand pressed together in my dim bedroom.
His coffee-scented breath mingles with mine as he considers his answer.
The smoke smell from his firefighter uniform surrounds us in this intimate moment.
"Why did you come back, Ben?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I couldn't stay away, not after reading your letter," he replies, his voice thick with emotion.
"But what about everything you said before?" I press, needing to understand.