My Elder Brother Wasn't At Home. My Sister-in-law Came To My Room To Look For Me-10
Relaxed Tension and a Silent Return
Only wiper swipes and engine hum filled the car. In the backseat, I watched his tired reflection—the stark bandage on his temple. Her grip never loosened, a silent testament to bone-deep fear and dependence. As we turned into our quiet street, the garage door rose. Soft sensor lights flickered on. He parked but didn’t cut the engine. Turning to her, he sighed deeply—a sound heavy with fatigue, regret, and grim understanding.
Unspoken Fears and the Delayed Truth
"A-Wen..." His voice was low in the garage stillness. "When she was little, seven or eight... her parents took her on a drive..." He paused, licking dry lips. "A bad accident. Right before her eyes. Her mother died instantly. Her father... lingered in the hospital half a month, then passed too." Dim light, his words slow and weighty: "She was in the back seat. Saw everything. Since then, she’s terrified... of people vanishing, losing touch, being lost forever."
Shattered Childhood and Scarred Soul
He killed the engine; dash lights faded. In darkness, her grip tightened. He stroked her hair gently, tenderly. "You hate my trips, especially when I’m unreachable. Is that why you’d go out after I left for work?" He voiced the unspoken, his tone knowing and gentle. She barely nodded against his shoulder, a faint sniff. Tears slid silently down.
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