# Chapter 3
Morning announced itself reluctantly.
The rain had vanished sometime before dawn, leaving the world washed clean beneath a pale golden sky. Dew clung stubbornly to blades of grass, sparkling like scattered fragments of glass as sunlight seeped through the sprawling mango trees that lined our street. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed with unnecessary enthusiasm while motorcycles hummed past the neighborhood, carrying workers toward another ordinary day.
Ordinary.
The word lingered in my thoughts as I stood before my bedroom window.
Nothing about the past few years had felt ordinary.
I rested my forehead against the cool glass.
Across the street, Mrs. Agnes Holloway was already tending to the flowers that decorated her tiny veranda. She hummed softly to herself while watering faded lilies that looked as though they had survived more winters than they should have.
She looked peaceful.
I envied that.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Robert?"
Mother's voice floated gently through the door.
"Breakfast is getting cold."
"I'll be down in a minute."
"You've said that three times already."
"I mean it this time."
"You sounded more convincing yesterday."
Her footsteps faded.
Despite everything life had taken from us...
she still found reasons to laugh.
I dressed slowly, buttoning my white shirt with practiced fingers before fastening the loosely knotted school tie around my neck. The mirror reflected someone who looked composed enough to fool strangers.
Only strangers.
Dark crescents rested beneath my eyes.
My smile looked rehearsed.
There was a peculiar hollowness behind my gaze that no amount of sleep seemed capable of repairing.
I reached for my backpack before instinctively glancing toward the framed photograph resting beside my bed.
Dad smiled exactly as he always had.
Warm.
Confident.
Alive.
"...I wish you'd left answers instead of memories," I whispered.
The room remained silent.
Downstairs smelled of toasted bread, fried eggs and freshly brewed tea. Morning sunlight streamed through the dining room curtains, illuminating tiny particles of dust that drifted lazily through the air.
Diane was already seated, swinging her legs beneath the chair while scribbling furiously inside a notebook.
"What are you writing?" I asked.
She quickly slammed it shut.
"Nothing."
"That looked suspicious."
"It was private."
Mother placed a plate in front of me before ruffling Diane's hair.
"She's writing stories."
Diane frowned.
"Mum."
"What?"
"You promised."
"I promised not to read them."
"You told him."
Mother laughed quietly.
"I merely encouraged him."
I leaned across the table.
"So..."
She narrowed her eyes.
"So?"
"You inherited my talent?"
"I inherited yours?"
"Exactly."
She puffed out her cheeks.
"I'll never show you."
"I'll pay."
"No."
"I'll wash the dishes."
"No."
"I'll give you my dessert."
She paused.
"...I'm listening."
Mother covered her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hide her laughter.
"You two bargain over everything."
"We're entrepreneurs," Diane declared proudly.
"You're impossible."
"I learned from Robert."
"I object," I replied.
Mother raised one eyebrow.
"Overruled."
For a brief moment...
everything felt wonderfully normal.
The laughter echoed gently through the dining room, wrapping around us like a blanket neither of us realized would soon begin to unravel.
By the time I stepped outside, the neighborhood had awakened completely.
Children chased one another along the roadside.
Shopkeepers swept dust from the fronts of their stores.
A woman argued loudly with a fruit vendor over the price of oranges.
Life moved with comforting familiarity.
Halfway to school, I heard someone shouting my name.
"Robert!"
CJ came jogging toward me, slightly out of breath, his backpack bouncing against one shoulder.
"I overslept."
"I can see that."
"My alarm betrayed me."
"You have three alarms."
"They formed an alliance."
I couldn't help smiling.
"You always have an excuse."
"I prefer the word explanation."
He adjusted the sleeves of his perfectly ironed uniform before glancing sideways at me.
"You look better today."
"I do?"
"A little."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was."
The school gates loomed ahead, bustling with students pouring into the compound.
Some revised notes.
Others exchanged gossip.
A football rolled across the courtyard before colliding harmlessly with Mason's polished shoes.
He trapped it effortlessly beneath one foot before tossing it back toward its embarrassed owner.
"You should watch where you're kicking," he called.
"Sorry!" the younger student replied.
Mason simply nodded.
There was something reassuring about him.
He carried responsibility with effortless dignity, never demanding attention yet somehow commanding respect.
"Morning," he greeted as we approached.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Naomi appeared moments later carrying a camera around her neck.
"I need volunteers."
"For what?" Ethan asked suspiciously as he wandered over with Sophia quietly trailing behind him.
"The school magazine."
"No."
"You haven't heard the question."
"I know enough."
She sighed dramatically.
"I need photographs for the cultural festival next month."
CJ straightened immediately.
"You should've started with me."
"I was avoiding that."
"Rude."
"I need students."
"I am a student."
"You pose too much."
"I have excellent angles."
"You have excellent confidence."
"I'll accept that."
Sophia smiled faintly.
It was small.
Almost imperceptible.
Yet somehow it transformed her entire face.
Mrs. Evelyn Carter entered the classroom precisely as the first bell rang.
She carried several worn novels beneath one arm, setting them carefully upon her desk before surveying the room over her spectacles.
"I trust everyone completed yesterday's assignment."
A collective groan answered her.
"As expected."
She opened one of the novels.
"Literature is not merely reading words."
She looked around the classroom.
"It is understanding people."
Silence settled.
"Every character you meet..."
She continued thoughtfully.
"...is carrying a secret."
Her gaze drifted briefly toward me.
"Some secrets redeem us."
Another pause.
"Others consume us."
Something about the way she said those words caused an inexplicable chill to crawl beneath my skin.
The lesson continued.
Students answered questions.
Books turned.
Pens scratched across paper.
Outside, birds fluttered between branches while sunlight danced across the windows.
Everything appeared perfectly ordinary.
Until it wasn't.
As Mrs. Carter walked between the rows of desks, she suddenly stopped beside my table.
She frowned.
"Robert."
"Yes, ma'am?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Did you...?"
She hesitated.
"Did I what?"
"...Never mind."
"No, please."
She looked genuinely confused.
"I thought someone was standing behind you."
The classroom fell silent.
Every student instinctively turned toward the empty space behind my chair.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Mrs. Carter offered an apologetic smile.
"My eyes must be growing old."
Soft laughter rippled through the room before the lesson resumed.
Only I wasn't laughing.
Because for the briefest fraction of a second...
I could have sworn the temperature had dropped.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Just enough for my skin to prickle.
Just enough for the hairs on my arms to rise.
I slowly turned once more.
The back of the classroom was empty.
Yet something inside me whispered...
It wasn't empty a moment ago.
The final bell released us shortly after three.
Students flooded into the corridors with jubilant relief.
CJ stretched dramatically.
"I swear school gets longer every day."
"It doesn't."
"It feels like it."
Mason adjusted the strap of his bag.
"Football practice."
Naomi lifted her camera.
"Newspaper meeting."
Ethan sighed.
"Homework."
Sophia quietly tucked her sketchbook beneath her arm.
"I'm going home."
Everyone slowly drifted in different directions.
I lingered for a moment beside the classroom window, watching sunlight spill across the deserted courtyard.
Without warning...
something caught my eye.
High above the bell tower...
a single raven circled silently.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then it landed upon the rusted iron cross mounted at the tower's peak.
It stared directly at me.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
A strange uneasiness settled heavily inside my chest.
When I blinked...
the bird was gone.
Only the empty cross remained against the afternoon sky.
For reasons I could not explain...
I found myself praying that I would never see that raven again.