My brother was sixteen when it happened.
He was a good person, warm, funny, and stubborn.
But he was part of a gang.
It wasn't a secret. Everyone in the neighborhood knew, though no one ever said it out loud. My mother worried constantly, her face always tired from work and sleepless nights. Their arguments filled the house like echoes that never faded , anger, worry, love, fear. Then silence. Always silence.
Even so, I missed those peaceful days .
the three of us at the beach, laughing as the waves crashed around our feet. I remember turning to him and saying,
"I miss those days."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah… me too."
"Then make it happen again," I said softly. "Just quit the gang and focus on school."
He didn't answer right away.
His eyes drifted to the sea, quiet and unreadable.
After a moment, he said, "You're right… but if I quit, they'll come after me."
We sat in silence. The wind carried away my words before I could say anything more.
A month later, he came home one evening, eyes shining with something new.
"I told them I'm done," he said.
Mom froze. Then tears streamed down her face , tears of relief.
"In honor of this," she said, smiling through her sobs, "we're going to the movies!"
I laughed. "See? I told you it was possible."
He smiled back at me , a real smile this time, one that reached his eyes.
That night, we went to an action movie about people trapped in a maze. It was exciting, loud, and full of laughter. For the first time in months, it felt like we were just a normal family again.
After the movie, my brother said he'd go to the bathroom.
Mom and I waited outside, chatting about what snacks to buy on the way home.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
A scream tore through the hall.
We ran inside.
Mom tried to cover my eyes, but I pushed her hand away.
I wish I hadn't.
He was lying on the floor… covered in blood.
My legs gave out beneath me.
His lips trembled, and in a broken whisper he said,
"Don't cry… I knew this would happen."
Those were his last words.
The world went silent.
The next morning was his funeral.
I didn't want to get up.
I wanted to keep dreaming .
to pretend he was still alive, still teasing me, still sitting at the table like nothing happened.
But I forced myself up. He was my brother. I had to say goodbye.
Mom couldn't stop crying, her face buried in my aunt's shoulder.
When it was over, one of my brother's friends came up to me and said quietly,
"The gang… they didn't do it."
I froze.
"What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "I don't know who it was. But it wasn't them."
It was my brother,
Kim Min-jun.
And that night, part of me died with him.
If you ask where my father was ,he wasn't there.
He left when I was five, for another woman.
Since then, Mom worked two jobs to keep us alive, smiling through exhaustion, pretending everything was okay.
I used to believe that, too.
Until the day everything changed.
To be continued