The Silent Half

Chapter 1

Twelve years had passed since the tragedy. Soon after Emily Parker’s death, the family had packed their lives into silence and moved to a new city. In the process, the twins lost contact with Jeremiah and the Smiths completely—no letters, no visits, no communication at all.

On the surface, life went on. But for Conrad, the accident had frozen time.

---

“I’m sorry, Mum… I didn’t mean to let this happen. If only I hadn’t asked to go to the park. Please, don’t leave me. Come back, please—I’m sorry!”

Conrad thrashed in his sleep, his words breaking in a sob. In the nightmare, he stood small and powerless, watching the truck tear through his world. His mother’s scream. The crash. Her arms wrapping around him in her final breath. His heart squeezed with shame, guilt, and uselessness until—

He jolted awake, gasping for air, sweat dampening his sheets.

“Are you having those nightmares again, young master?”

Steven, the family butler, stood by the door. His face was calm but his eyes betrayed concern. He had been with the Parkers long before the twins were born, and he had raised them as much as their parents did. He knew Conrad’s wounds better than anyone.

“Hey, Steven… I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Conrad said, forcing the words out between breaths.

“Nothing?” Steven’s brows pulled together. “As far as I can see, the nightmares are getting worse. Perhaps it’s time you spoke to a therapist.”

“I don’t need a therapist.” Conrad’s voice was sharper than he meant it to be. He looked away. “I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to worry.”

Steven sighed, his chest heavy with pity. He knew Conrad too well—knew he still carried the blame for Emily’s death, even though it wasn’t his fault. But pressing the boy would only push him deeper into himself.

So instead, he said softly, “Go freshen up. Breakfast is ready downstairs. You don’t want to keep your father and brother waiting. And besides—first day of university. Your mother would have been proud.”

Conrad muttered under his breath, bitter and low. “Yeah. Proud.”

---

When he descended the grand staircase, the sound of clinking cutlery reached him. The dining room smelled of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread a simple breakfast.

His father sat at the head of the mahogany table, sharp in a tailored suit, reading the morning paper. Conner sat at his side, mid-laugh, telling some story that filled the room with warmth Conrad never seemed able to summon anymore.

The moment Conrad entered, the air shifted.

“Why are you coming down late again?” Mr. Parker’s voice was clipped, each word edged with steel. His eyes barely lifted from the paper to acknowledge his son.

“Good morning, Father,” Conrad said quietly, bowing his head as he slid into his seat. “I’m sorry.”

Across the table, Conner gave him a bright grin. “Morning, bro.”

Conrad managed a faint smile. “Morning.”

The rest of breakfast passed in silence. Conrad ate without tasting, each bite like ash in his mouth. He wanted to breathe easily, but every glance from his father made the air feel heavier. Still, he clung to the memory of his mother’s whisper: Everything will be okay.

When the plates were cleared, the twins rose together, collected their bags, and followed the driver out to the waiting car.

---

The sleek black car glided through the university gates, its custom plate gleaming in the sunlight. Heads turned. Whispers sparked. Students paused mid-step, staring as the Parker limousine rolled to a stop.

The back doors opened, and both twins stepped out at the same time.

At first glance, they were indistinguishable—two tall, lean young men with sharp features, striking green eyes, and the refined elegance of their late mother. They looked like they had walked straight out of a magazine.

But the difference revealed itself quickly, not in their faces but in their presence.

Conner walked with easy grace, smiling as if he already knew the crowd would welcome him. Shoulders back, chin high, he basked in the attention without needing to ask for it.

Conrad walked beside him, his steps steady but quieter. He wasn’t timid—just distant, as though a piece of him was locked somewhere far away. Once, as a child, he had burned with the same brightness as his brother. But that light had dimmed the day he lost his mother. What remained now was something calmer, older, and harder to read.

“Are they… twins?” someone whispered.

“They look alike but… different in aura.”

"I know right one has a cheerful aura..while the other one is dim."

“Everyone knows that they are the Parker twins ”