🤔Brother’s Mistake, Younger One’s Problem?

The sun had barely risen over the small village when Dara, the younger brother, woke up to an uneasy silence. Normally, mornings were filled with the loud, carefree voice of his older brother, Rith, singing terribly while sweeping the yard. But today, the air felt strangely heavy, as if something was hiding behind the quiet.

Dara stretched, stepped outside, and found their mother already standing in the yard with her hands on her hips. Her face carried a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. That was rarely a good sign.

“Where is your brother?” she asked sternly.

Dara blinked. “Still sleeping, I think.”

Mother sighed deeply. “Well, you need to go wake him up. We have a problem.”

A problem. Dara instantly knew what that meant. Whenever Rith did something wrong, it somehow always became his problem. He didn’t even need to know the details yet—something inside him already whispered: Here we go again.

He hurried to the bedroom they shared and found Rith lying under the blanket, pretending to be asleep. Dara nudged him with his foot. “Hey, Mom’s angry. What did you do this time?”

Rith peeked out with one eye, guilt written all over his face. “Okay, okay… don’t panic. I might have… borrowed Uncle Samnang’s bicycle.”

“Borrowed?” Dara repeated. “Or stolen?”

“Borrowed without telling,” Rith corrected quickly. “Same thing, right?”

“No. No, it’s not the same thing at all!”

Rith sat up, scratched his head, and sighed. “I just wanted to go to the river yesterday. I planned to return it before dark, but then—uh—something happened.”

“What happened?”

Rith hesitated. “I kind of… crashed it.”

Dara closed his eyes. “Of course you did.”

The crash wasn’t even the worst part. The real issue was Uncle Samnang—strict, loud, and protective of his possessions. If he found out, the entire village would hear him yelling.

“So where’s the bicycle?” Dara asked, praying for a miracle.

“In the shed,” Rith whispered.

Dara followed him to the old wooden shed. As soon as the door opened, he felt his stomach sink. The bicycle lay bent, scraped, and hopelessly broken.

“Rith,” Dara said slowly, “this doesn’t look like a crash. This looks like it fought a buffalo and lost.”

Rith shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t think the tree would be that strong.”

Dara wanted to scream, but years of being the responsible one taught him patience. “And you didn’t tell Mom?”

“I was going to fix it before she noticed!”

“With what? Magic?” Dara snapped.

Rith pouted like a child. “Well, aren’t you good at fixing stuff? You fixed my radio. And my kite. And the fan.”

“Yes, but those didn’t look like someone dropped a house on them.”

Before Dara could think of a plan, their mother walked in and saw the bicycle.

Her eyes widened. “Rith! What is this?”

Rith pointed at Dara instantly. “We’re fixing it together!”

“What—HEY!” Dara protested.

But it was too late. Mother already assumed the younger one was involved. As always.

“Dara,” she said, “how long will it take you to repair this?”

Dara stared at her, speechless. Why me? Why always me?

Rith gently nudged him. “Come on, bro. Help me. Please? I’ll owe you.”

“You already owe me for the radio, the kite, and the time you accidentally let the chickens out.”

“Exactly! I owe you a lot. This is just one more thing.”

Dara groaned. His older brother had a special talent—doing something foolish and then dragging him into the mess like a loyal companion in disaster.

But Rith wasn’t a bad person. Just… a chaotic one. And Dara loved him despite everything.

After a long moment, Dara sighed. “Fine. We’ll fix it.”

Rith’s eyes lit up. “You’re the best!”

“But YOU are doing most of the work,” Dara added.

And so the two brothers collected tools, spare parts, and anything that might help. Hours passed as they hammered, pulled, straightened, and tightened. Rith kept trying to hold the wrong parts, stand in the wrong places, or accidentally trip over the toolbox. Dara kept yelling instructions like a frustrated teacher.

At some point, Rith sighed dramatically. “Why do bad things always happen to me?”

“Because you cause them,” Dara answered.

Rith paused. “That’s… fair.”

Despite all the chaos, something comforting existed in moments like these—two brothers sweating under the sun, arguing, laughing, and bickering their way through trouble. It was their strange but familiar routine.

When they finally finished, the bicycle looked almost new. Dare even tested it to be sure, riding it around the yard.

“It works,” he said, wiping his forehead.

Rith grinned proudly. “Of course it works! We make a great team.”

Dara raised an eyebrow. “We? You watched while I fixed.”

“I provided emotional support,” Rith argued.

“By complaining?”

“It’s a strong skill.”

Just then, Uncle Samnang arrived at the gate with a loud voice: “Rith! Dara! Have you seen my bicycle?”

Rith froze. Dara sighed. Mother looked suspicious.

Dara stepped forward. He knew Rith was terrified. He also knew Uncle Samnang would explode if he heard the truth delivered the wrong way.

So, as usual, the younger brother cleaned up the older one’s mess.

“Uncle,” Dara said calmly, “your bicycle needed a bit of maintenance, so we took care of it. It should ride even better now.”

Uncle Samnang inspected the bicycle carefully. Because it looked new and polished, he didn’t notice anything amiss. He nodded slowly. “Good boys. Thank you.”

As he left with the bicycle, Dara glared at Rith. “You owe me big time.”

Rith hugged him suddenly. “I know. And I really mean it this time. Thank you, little brother.”

Dara softened. Rith may have been careless, clumsy, and full of wild ideas… but he also had a warm heart. He never meant harm. He just lived life loudly, while Dara lived life carefully. Together, they balanced each other—like two pieces of a puzzle that fit only because they were different.

Later that evening, the brothers sat under the mango tree watching the stars appear one by one.

“Dara?” Rith said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you always help me? Even when it’s my fault?”

Dara didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the sky. “Because you’re my brother. And because… if I don’t help you, who will?”

Rith laughed. “Good point.”

Dara smiled. “Maybe next time, try not to get us into trouble?”

“I’ll try,” Rith promised.

“Try harder.”

They both laughed.

And though Dara knew there would probably always be another problem, another mistake, another mess to clean—he also knew something else:

Brothers don’t let each other face trouble alone.

Even when the mistake belongs to the older one…
The problem often belongs to the younger.

But that’s what family is. Messy, loud, chaotic—but full of love.

The End.