u/Express_Cup_4051 — reddlx

Every time I wake up, I see a small drawing note beside my bed, a smiling face. After seeing that same drawing every day, my day somehow ends well. After my part-time work and college, I feel exhausted. But when I come home, a voice refreshes my whole mood and heals all my tiredness. It is my little sister’s voice. She hugs me every time I come home and asks if I bought chocolate for her or not. Even when shops are closed late at night, I still somehow manage to get chocolate for her.

After my dad’s sudden death, my little sister developed a fear of losing me too. She always hugs me tightly, always waits for me to come back home and every morning she leaves a smiley face note beside my bed. One day, she told me that she wanted to go to Disneyland with me and mom. Hearing that, I felt like this was a chance to heal her a little. I quickly promised her we would go next week. I never imagined that my simple promise could bring her so much happiness. From that day, along with the smiley face notes, she started adding a countdown of days left to go to Disneyland.

Time passed quickly, and finally that day came. I woke up and like every day, saw her smiley face note. I rushed to work. Before I left, she reminded me again to come home early. She said she would be waiting. I nodded and left.

But that day, I got late again.

I was running back home, planning to take her and go to Disneyland. When I reached near my house, I saw her already waiting on the roadside with mom. The moment she saw me, she slipped out of my mom’s hand and started running toward me.

My smile faded when I heard a loud horn.

Now, whenever I try to sleep, that horn and my mom’s scream echo in my head. I can’t sleep. I don’t see any smiley face notes beside my bed anymore. I miss that voice when I come home. It feels like a light that once brightened the room is now gone.

After that day, I have never seen my mom smile again. I don’t even remember the last time I smiled. It’s like we forgot how to smile, how to talk. We are not living, we are surviving.

I never imagined how heavy trauma feels. Maybe it’s the same pain my little sister felt when our dad died. Sometimes I even think of doing things I shouldn’t, but I stop when I think about my mom. What would happen to her if I left her too? That hesitation is the only thing keeping me alive.

Now I work like a machine. No expression. No happiness. No goal. Back then, when I got a bonus at work, I used to come home and shout with joy. My family would celebrate with me and we would go out to eat together. But now, I just wish I could tell her that I’m not just a worker anymore, I’m a manager.

One night, like every other night, I was lying on my bed, sleepless, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, I heard something I hadn’t heard in a long time. Footsteps. My sister’s footsteps.

I ran downstairs as fast as I could, stumbling on the way. then I saw it. The dark, silent house suddenly felt alive again, like a light that had once gone out had turned back on.I saw her.

Standing near the door. Smiling.

Then the main door opened and a boy entered. That boy was me. He looked so happy. He had chocolates in his hands. They were laughing together.

But suddenly, That laughter turned into screams.

A loud horn.

I woke up.

It was morning.

But this morning felt different.

For the first in a long time, I had slept peacefully.

My hand slowly moved to the bedside. There was a note.

A drawing - A smiley face.

End. Thanks for reading.