If Only You Knew

Chapter 1: He Never Came Home

Everyone remembers the day my brother disappeared.

They're wrong.

They remember the day they realized he was gone.

I remember the last time I saw him.

If someone had told me that morning it would be the last normal day of my life, I would've laughed.

The coffee maker had broken again.

The dog next door wouldn't stop barking.

My phone buzzed with a message from Mason.

Running late. Don't start dinner without me.

I smiled.

Typical Mason.

He had been "running late" for as long as I could remember.

When we were kids, he'd show up to soccer practice ten minutes after everyone else.

When he got older, he'd apologize with coffee, pizza, or some ridiculous joke that somehow made everything okay again.

Being late was part of who he was.

Disappearing wasn't.

I tossed my phone onto the kitchen counter and continued chopping vegetables.

The apartment smelled like garlic and butter.

Music played quietly from the speaker near the window.

Outside, rain tapped against the glass in soft, uneven rhythms.

It felt peaceful.

Normal.

Looking back...

I think that's what hurts the most.

Not knowing it was the last ordinary evening we'd ever have.

At six-thirty, I texted him again.

Still alive?

No response.

I rolled my eyes.

"You're buying dessert," I muttered to myself.

Seven o'clock came.

Then seven-thirty.

The pasta had gone cold.

I called.

Straight to voicemail.

That wasn't like Mason.

He ignored texts all the time.

He never ignored my calls.

I tried again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

A knot tightened in my stomach.

I opened our message thread.

The last thing he'd sent was still sitting there.

Running late. Don't start dinner without me.

I stared at those words longer than I should have.

Something felt...

Wrong.

Not scary.

Just...

Wrong.

I grabbed my keys.