The Silent Half

Chapter 17

Conner's POV:

Conrad must have felt Conner’s stare because he quietly set down his laptop and walked over.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked softly. “If I did, just tell me. I’ll avoid it next time.” His voice was calm, his eyes steady, almost pleading as he searched his brother’s face.

Conner snapped. His anger boiled over before he could stop it.

“Since you want to know so badly why I left you, then listen—I saw you kissing Jeremiah!” His voice was sharp, loud, filled with frustration and anger.

Conrad blinked, confusion flashing across his features.

“What do you mean, I kissed Jeremiah?” he asked, startled.

“Don’t act all innocent with me!” Conner’s tone rose higher. “I saw it with my own eyes when I went back to the classroom.”

“You must have seen wrong,” Conrad said quickly, still calm but desperate to explain. “We only talked. Yes, he was a bit close to me, but we didn’t kiss. You can ask him if you don’t believe me he'll tell you.”

But Conner wasn’t listening. His anger only deepened.

“I don’t even know why it made me so angry" he paused and chuckled angrily. "The fact that I already told you I liked him, and yet you—” His fists clenched. “You always seem to take everything away from me!”

Conrad’s voice stayed quiet, though his eyes wavered. “Take everything from you? I’ve never taken anything. You know that. Why are you saying this?”

“You don’t get to say that!” Conner’s voice cracked, rising again. “You took Mum away from me, didn’t you? she died because of you" he yelled" You killed her. First Mum—and now Jeremiah.”

The words hit like knives. Conrad stood frozen, his expression breaking. In his eyes Conner could see hurt, guilt, self-blame, regret—all tangled together. But Conner didn’t stop. His anger was too loud, drowning out reason.

“I didn’t kiss Jeremiah,” Conrad whispered at last. Then he turned and walked out of the room.

---

The words Conner had thrown at him followed Conrad down the hall like echoes—you took Mum away… because of you… They wouldn’t let him breathe. His chest ached in a way that felt unbearable, sharper than the quiet grief he carried every day.

He wandered into the garden and sat in the cool evening air until night fell, staring at nothing.

Steven, the butler, had overheard the twins’ argument. He wanted to step in earlier but chose to give Conrad space. When darkness settled, he approached quietly.

“Sir, you should come inside. Otherwise, you’ll catch a cold. Dinner is ready, and your brother and father will soon go down for dinner.”

Conrad barely looked up. “Okay,” he whispered, and followed him in.

At the dining table, the atmosphere was stiff. Mr. Parker spoke about work, Conner answered shortly, but Conrad only pushed food around his plate, his appetite gone. His silence drew his father’s sharp eyes.

“If you don’t want to eat, then leave,” Mr. Parker said sternly. “Don’t play with your food.”

Conrad set down his fork. “Yes, Father,” he murmured, rising from the table without resistance.

Upstairs, he collapsed onto his bed. Feeling utterly alone. once alone, the tears he had fought all day finally spilled over. He remembered his mother’s voice, soft and reassuring—Everything will be fine. But the words felt hollow now, too fragile to believe.

And still, he clung to them as his eyes closed, crying quietly until sleep finally pulled him under.