If only

chapter 3

That night, I dreamt of him.

Not the way he looked when he was alive. Not the brother who used to steal my meat from the pot and pretend it was the my baby sister's fault.

No this version of him was still pale.

Eyes open but not blinking.

“If only,” he whispered, voice echoing like it came from inside a deep, empty drum.

“If only you could have heard what I wanted to say.”

I tried to speak, but in the dream my tongue was heavy, like soaked cotton.

I reached for him. He stepped back.

The walls closed in.

His face began to fade not like disappearing, more like being erased.

And then I woke up.

Heart racing.

Sweat cold.

Mouth dry.

Morning prep felt longer than usual.

I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t recite the school anthem.

On our way to the dining hall, I saw him.

Not him but a boy in basic 5 who looked just like my brother.

Same height. Same wide nose. Same sleepy eyes.

I froze.

For a second, I thought he’d turn to me and say “I’m not really gone.”

But he just walked past, laughing with his friends.

I stood there long after the bell rang.

“You alright?” a voice asked behind me.

It was Tomi, the girl in the bunk below mine.

She never talked too much. Never asked silly questions.

But now she looked at me not the way people look when they want gist no, she looked like she saw something.

“You looked like you saw a ghost,” she said.

I opened my mouth to say, “I’m fine.”

But the words sat there. Unmoving.

She waited.

And for the first time, I almost let the truth slip through.

That my silence wasn’t peace. It was punishment.

That every night, a voice whispered what I should have listened to.

That my brother died still waiting for me to take him seriously.

But I couldn’t.

So I smiled.

“I didn’t sleep well,” I said.

And just like that, I lied again.