Chapter One
There was something about my house that never let the dead stay dead.
Not literally.
At least... that's what I kept telling myself.
Every morning, before the sun had fully climbed above the roofs of our neighborhood, the house would wake before the rest of us. Floorboards sighed beneath invisible weight. Pipes groaned inside the walls. The old grandfather clock in the hallway ticked with such stubborn precision that it sometimes sounded less like a clock and more like footsteps approaching from another room.
Most people blamed old age for noises like that.
I blamed memory.
My father had been gone for almost three years, yet the house refused to forget him.
Neither did I.
The smell of coffee drifted upstairs, pulling me from sleep before my alarm had the chance. I stared at the cracked ceiling above my bed for a long moment, listening to the rain tap softly against the window.
Rain.
Dad used to say rain was heaven trying to wash away the things people refused to confess.
I hated that saying.
Some stains never came off.
I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The mirror opposite my wardrobe greeted me with the face of someone older than seventeen should have looked.
Dark circles.
Messy black hair.
Eyes that hadn't known proper sleep in months.
"Happy?" I muttered to my reflection.
It didn't answer.
I grabbed my school uniform from the chair beside my desk and dressed in silence. My room wasn't anything extraordinary—just faded cream walls, shelves crowded with novels, scattered notebooks, and a desk buried beneath unfinished homework and pages of stories I'd never had the courage to complete.
One thing was always perfectly arranged.
The framed photograph beside my bed.
My father.
He stood with one hand resting on my shoulder, smiling at the camera while I grinned with the reckless confidence only children possess.
Sometimes I wondered if that boy still existed.
Sometimes I was certain he had died long before my father did.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Robert!" my mother's voice called through the door.
"If you're not downstairs in five minutes, your sister is eating your pancakes."
I smiled despite myself.
"I'm coming."
"You said that ten minutes ago."
"I mean it this time."
"You also said that yesterday."
Her laughter faded down the hallway.
For a moment...
the house sounded alive again.
Downstairs smelled of butter and toasted bread.
My mother moved gracefully between the stove and the table, humming an old song she always claimed she'd forgotten the name of. She looked tired—more tired than she'd admit—but there was a warmth about her that made every room feel safer.
She smiled the instant she saw me.
"There he is."
"You made pancakes."
"I made breakfast."
"Diane made sure there'd be no pancakes left."
"I heard that!" my little sister protested with her mouth full.
She couldn't have been older than twelve, yet somehow possessed enough energy for three people. She pointed her fork at me dramatically.
"You were late."
"I was asleep."
"Excuses."
Mother laughed.
"You two haven't changed."
I sat down across from Diane, stealing half a pancake from her plate.
She gasped.
"Mum!"
"He started it."
"I absolutely did."
Mother shook her head.
"I have raised two children and somehow neither of you understands the meaning of sharing."
"We understand it," Diane said.
"We just don't like it."
The kitchen erupted in laughter.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't extraordinary.
But if I could freeze one moment forever...
it would have been that one.
Because none of us knew how precious ordinary mornings could be.
After breakfast, Mother handed me my lunch.
"Don't forget."
"I won't."
"You forgot yesterday."
"I remembered eventually."
"At lunchtime."
She rolled her eyes before gently straightening my collar.
"You've grown taller."
"You've been saying that for years."
"Because you keep growing."
There was a pause.
Her smile lingered, but something behind her eyes changed.
She looked toward the hallway.
Toward the closed study door.
Dad's study.
No one had entered it since the funeral.
Not because it was locked.
Because none of us had found the courage.
Mother noticed me looking.
Quietly she said,
"Leave that room alone, Robert."
"I wasn't going in."
"I know."
She hesitated.
"Just... promise me."
"I promise."
I didn't know then that promises were fragile things.
Sometimes they shattered before you even realized you'd made them.
Outside, the rain had softened into a cool drizzle.
The streets glistened beneath the gray morning sky as I walked toward school with my backpack hanging from one shoulder. Students hurried past carrying umbrellas of every color imaginable, laughing over things that would probably be forgotten before the week was over.
I envied that.
Being able to forget.
School was already buzzing by the time I reached the gate.
"Hey!"
I turned just in time to see someone sprinting toward me.
The boy nearly slipped on the wet pavement before catching himself with surprising elegance.
"You must be Robert."
He flashed a grin bright enough to challenge the gloomy sky.
"I've been looking everywhere for you."
I frowned.
"Have we met?"
"Nope."
"Then why were you looking for me?"
"Because we're lab partners now."
He extended a hand without hesitation.
"CJ."
He wore his uniform as though it had been designed by a fashion magazine instead of the school board. Even in the rain, everything about him seemed effortlessly put together.
"I'm Robert."
"I know."
"You know my name?"
"Of course."
He shrugged.
"People talk."
"I'm hoping only good things."
He laughed.
"I'll let you know when I hear any."
For reasons I couldn't explain...
I laughed too.
It felt unfamiliar.
Like using a part of myself that had gone quiet.
As we walked through the corridor together, I had no way of knowing that this carefree stranger would one day become my closest friend...
or that the choices we would make together would decide far more than our own lives.
At the time, he was simply the new boy with an easy smile.
And I was simply another student trying to survive another school day.
Neither of us noticed the old groundskeeper standing beneath the bell tower.
He watched us without moving.
Without blinking.
When our eyes almost met...
he tipped his cap.
Then turned away.
By the time I looked again...
he was gone.