CHAPTER 3: THE BROTHER’S HIDDEN MONTHS
CHAPTER 3: THE BROTHER’S HIDDEN MONTHS
Rain started after school.
Not the dramatic kind that matched the mood—just a steady, indifferent drizzle that made Oakridge High look washed out and tired, like the building itself was trying to forget what happened inside it.
Maya left the nurse’s office that afternoon.
Against advice. Against pain. Against everything that felt safe.
Ethan walked beside her.
Not touching. Not guiding.
Just staying.
The silence between them wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of things neither of them knew how to say out loud.
By the time they reached the edge of the school gate, Maya finally spoke.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
Ethan looked ahead. “I know.”
A pause.
“But I am.”
That was it.
No justification.
No explanation.
Just a fact.
Maya tightened her grip on her backpack strap.
“You’re going to make it worse for yourself.”
Ethan let out a quiet breath.
“I think it was already worse. I just didn’t know it.”
That night, Maya didn’t go home.
Not immediately.
Instead, she stood under the covered walkway near the school library, waiting for something she couldn’t quite name.
Ethan arrived ten minutes later.
Soaked slightly. Hoodie darkened by rain.
He held something in his hand.
A small envelope.
Maya frowned. “What is that?”
Ethan didn’t answer right away.
He handed it to her.
Maya hesitated, then opened it carefully.
Inside were medical intake forms.
Old ones.
Rehabilitation center records.
Her name.
Lucas’s name.
Same dates.
Same program.
Her breath caught.
“You got this from where?” she asked quietly.
Ethan didn’t look proud. “My mother keeps everything.”
Maya’s fingers trembled slightly as she scanned the pages.
“I didn’t know she had copies,” she whispered.
Ethan watched her closely.
“I didn’t either. Until tonight.”
A pause.
Then he said:
“There’s something missing.”
Maya looked up immediately.
Ethan tapped the paper.
“The last two weeks of Lucas’s file.”
Maya’s stomach tightened.
“That’s not unusual,” she said quickly. “Sometimes they separate—”
Ethan shook his head.
“No. I checked. The archive logs show they existed.”
Silence.
Rain hit the roof above them harder now.
Maya swallowed.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Ethan hesitated.
Then:
“I think someone removed them.”
The words didn’t land immediately.
But when they did, they changed the air.
Maya stepped back slightly.
“Why would anyone do that?”
Ethan’s expression darkened.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
A pause.
Then he added:
“And Vanessa’s father sits on the board of trustees.”
Maya froze.
That connection hadn’t been mentioned before.
Ethan saw it register.
“I didn’t want to believe it either,” he said. “But the timing… the way she speaks about control, about reputation—”
Maya cut in sharply.
“You’re connecting too many dots.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
“Maybe.”
A beat.
“Or maybe I’m finally seeing them.”
That night, Maya went back to her small apartment.
But sleep didn’t come.
Because memories don’t ask permission.
They just return.
And tonight, they returned with Lucas.
Rehab center.
Two years earlier.
Lucas sitting in a chair by the window, too thin, too pale, but smiling like it was still possible to win something.
Maya sitting across from him, frustrated, tired, exhausted from her own recovery.
“You don’t talk much,” Lucas had said once.
Maya had shrugged. “Talking doesn’t fix anything.”
Lucas had smiled.
“No,” he agreed. “But it makes it less heavy.”
That was the first time she looked at him differently.
Not as a patient.
Not as a broken thing.
But as someone refusing to disappear.
Another memory.
Lucas asking her about Oakridge High.
“Would you go there?” he had said casually.
Maya had laughed.
“I barely survived walking again. Why would I go to a place like that?”
Lucas had looked out the window.
“Because you don’t belong in places that already decided who you are.”
Maya hadn’t understood that then.
She did now.
Too late.
And then the last memory.
The envelope.
Lucas giving her the photos.
“Promise me something,” he had said.
Maya had frowned.
“What?”
Lucas had smiled, but it wasn’t playful anymore.
“If someone asks about me… don’t let them turn it into a story about pity.”
Maya had nodded.
“I won’t.”
Lucas shook his head slightly.
“Not that.”
A pause.
“Let them see it was real.”
Maya woke up before sunrise.
Her phone was buzzing.
Unknown number again.
But this time, there was no message.
Only a file.
Attached.
She hesitated for a long moment.
Then opened it.
Video.
Low quality.
Rehab center hallway.
Lucas walking.
Alive.
Laughing.
Then stopping.
Because someone was talking to him off-camera.
A voice.
Female.
Familiar.
Not Maya.
The camera shifted slightly.
And Maya froze.
Because standing near the end of the hallway was Vanessa.
Not the version from school.
Not polished. Not perfect.
Younger.
But unmistakable.
Maya’s breath caught.
The video continued.
Lucas looked confused.
Vanessa spoke again.
Something inaudible.
Then Lucas shook his head.
And walked away.
The video ended abruptly.
Maya sat completely still.
Her hands shaking.
Because this wasn’t just history.
This was before Oakridge.
Before rumors.
Before the stairs.
Before everything.
At school that morning, Ethan was already waiting.
He saw her face immediately.
“You saw it,” he said.
Maya nodded slowly.
Ethan exhaled.
“I thought so.”
A pause.
Then:
“She was there before you.”
Maya whispered:
“Why?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
Because this was the question that changed everything.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“That’s what we need to find out.”
Across the campus, Vanessa sat in her car for ten minutes before entering school.
She didn’t look at her phone.
She already knew.
Some truths don’t need notifications.
They arrive anyway.
And when she finally stepped out of the car, she saw Ethan and Maya standing together.
Waiting.
Not afraid anymore.
And Vanessa understood something clearly.
May you like
The story was no longer hers to control.
It never had been.
