AT LOSS

September 7, 2012

I don’t remember the day my life changed.

Not completely.

I remember rain.

I remember my mother’s hand around mine.

I remember crying.

And I remember another hand slipping away from me.

His.

Everyone says I was too young to remember anything important from that day.

Maybe they’re right.

But sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still hear a little boy shouting my name.

“Don’t let go!”

And then—

Nothing.

Just rain.

September 7, 2026

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a twin?”

I looked up from my phone.

My best friend, Maya, was staring at me from across the cafeteria table.

I laughed.

“Why would I suddenly start wondering that?”

“Because you have one.”

I stopped laughing.

There were some things people knew about me.

I hated mornings.

I could never finish a bottle of water.

I had an unhealthy obsession with chocolate.

And somewhere in the world, I had a twin brother.

I had never met him.

At least, not that I could remember.

“He’s probably forgotten me,” I said quietly.

Maya’s expression softened.

“How do you know?”

“Because I don’t remember him either.”

That wasn’t completely true.

I remembered pieces.

A boy’s laugh.

A blue shirt.

Rain.

A tiny hand holding mine.

But I didn’t know whether those were real memories or things my mind had created from stories my mother told me.

My mother never talked about him much.

Actually, she barely talked about my father either.

All I knew was that my parents had separated when I was little.

My father died two years later.

And my twin brother had gone to live with my father’s younger brother.

That was it.

No photographs.

No visits.

No phone calls.

No explanations.

Just a giant blank space where half of my childhood should have been.

I had asked my mother about him once.

Only once.

“Where is my brother?”

She had gone completely silent.

Then she’d said,

“Some things are better left in the past.”

I hated that answer.

Because my brother wasn’t the past.

He was still alive.

Somewhere.

And one day, I was going to find him.

The bell rang.

Maya stood up.

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

I grabbed my bag and followed her.

We were halfway down the corridor when I stopped.

Someone had bumped into me.

My books fell everywhere.

“Sorry.”

I looked up.

And froze.

A boy was standing in front of me.

Tall.

Dark hair.

A school bag hanging from one shoulder.

He bent down and picked up one of my books.

Then he looked at me.

For some strange reason, my heart skipped.

Not because he was handsome.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

It was because his eyes looked...

familiar.

He handed me my book.

“You dropped this.”

“Thanks.”

He smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

Then he walked away.

I watched him disappear around the corner.

Maya waved a hand in front of my face.

“Hello?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You were staring.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.”

We continued walking.

But I looked back one more time.

The corridor was empty.

I had no idea who that boy was.

I didn’t know his name.

I didn’t know where he lived.

I didn’t know why I’d never noticed him before.

And I certainly didn’t know why meeting him felt strangely like remembering something I’d forgotten.

But somehow...

I had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him.

I was right.

It was only the beginning.