The most comforting memory I have of Zeek is from when I was around 16, fresh out of school and thinking about my next steps. Zeek, my younger brother, was 10 at the time because, well, that’s how maths works.

One day, I told my mum about my dream college—the same one my two best friends were going to. I was so excited, already imagining my future. But my mum, in classic mum fashion, shut it down immediately.

“You’ll be continuing your education privately because I said so,” she declared.

I was devastated. I cried—a lot—because, at 16, it felt like my entire life was over. My dreams had been crushed before they even had a chance to begin.

The Rooftop Escape & My Brother’s Sweet Gesture

Feeling hopeless, I escaped to my usual hiding spot, the rooftop, where I spent hours sketching and thinking. That evening, as I sat in silence, tears rolling down my face, Zeek appeared.

He sat next to me, asked what was wrong, and, because he was my little brother, I told him everything.

Without missing a beat, he looked at me with complete sincerity and said:

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll sell my bike, and we’ll pay for your college fees. You’ll go where you want, and Mum won’t even have to help.”

At that moment, logic didn’t matter. The fact that a 10-year-old thought he could fund my education by selling his bike wasn’t important. What mattered was that he wanted to fix everything for me.

Then, he ran off and came back with his piggy bank, holding it out as if it contained a life-changing fortune.

“Here’s all the money I have. Is that enough?”

I cried even harder, not because of the money (which was probably less than £50), but because of what it represented. It was pure love.

Growing Up & Drifting Apart

Now, we’re both adults (he’s 20, and you’d have to do the math for my age because I am not telling you), living in different countries. At first, we stayed in touch regularly, but then, life happened. Schedules got busy, messages became less frequent, and the calls slowed down.

Have I tried reaching out? Absolutely. But adulthood has a funny way of making people disappear, even when they don’t mean to.

Still, on some nights, when life feels overwhelming, I wish for 10-year-old Zeek to appear, piggy bank in hand, and say, “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it.” Because, honestly, that was the purest kind of love and support I’ve ever known.

Do share your favourite Sibling Memory?

loads of luv

Hannah