Ghosted Love

The house stood at the end of a gravel road, a relic of forgotten times, with ivy climbing its stone walls like nature's embrace. Sunlight struggled to pierce through the canopy of ancient oaks, casting dappled shadows across the overgrown garden. The place smelled of damp earth and time itself, a scent that clung to Elena’s clothes as she stepped onto the porch.

She didn’t expect to inherit anything from her estranged grandmother, let alone a crumbling estate in the middle of nowhere. Yet, here she was, keys jingling in her hand, heart beating like a war drum. Elena was a painter by trade, drawn to the melancholy beauty of forgotten places — but this house, this house hummed with something else. Something she couldn’t explain.

The door groaned open, revealing a grand foyer with a spiral staircase and chandeliers coated in years of dust. The air felt heavy, charged. She shivered despite the warmth of late summer. Elena set her bag down and wandered through the rooms, fingers trailing along peeling wallpaper and cracked windowpanes.

In the library, a stack of old sketches lay scattered across a desk, faces she didn’t recognize yet seemed eerily familiar. One in particular caught her eye — a man’s face, sharp features, eyes like storm clouds. She traced the outline, her heart lurching at the intimacy of the portrait.

“Who are you?” she whispered, voice swallowed by the silence.

That night, she dreamed of him. His hands cradling her face, his voice a melody of longing. She woke with the echo of his name on her lips: Gabriel.

The days blurred as Elena cleaned and restored the house. But the dreams persisted. Gabriel appeared each night, memories of a life she couldn’t remember unraveling like threads. A ballroom lit with golden chandeliers. A waltz. A promise made under the stars. And always, the sense of something unfinished.

One evening, as she painted in the sunroom, she felt a chill run down her spine. The hairs on her arms stood on end. She turned, expecting emptiness — but there he was.

Gabriel.

He stood in the doorway, translucent, ethereal, but unmistakably him. The man from her sketches. The man from her dreams.

Elena dropped her brush. “You’re real,” she breathed.

“I’m... here,” he replied, voice a ghostly echo.

Over time, he lingered longer. They talked until dawn, Gabriel sharing fragments of their past life. He had been a composer, she a painter, their love forbidden by her family’s expectations. They’d planned to run away together, but fate had been cruel. A carriage accident. His death. And she, living out her days alone, painting his face over and over, haunted by grief.

“I never got to say goodbye,” he confessed one night, his fingers brushing against her cheek like a cold breeze.

Tears welled in her eyes. “We can finish what we started,” she whispered. “We can figure this out.”

They scoured the house for clues, searching through journals, letters, anything that might help them understand why Gabriel lingered. In the attic, Elena discovered a hidden compartment in an old trunk. Inside lay a locket containing their portraits, and a letter, yellowed with age.

It was her handwriting.

My dearest Gabriel,

I will find you again, in this life or the next. Our souls are bound beyond time. Wait for me.

Love, Elena

The realization hit her like a storm. She had promised to return to him, and now, a century later, she had.

As the moon rose high, they danced in the grand hall, her arms encircling his spectral form. The boundary between worlds blurred, and for a fleeting moment, he felt solid in her embrace.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I you,” he replied, voice steady.

As dawn approached, Gabriel’s form flickered, the first light of morning unraveling the threads of his existence. He cupped her face, pressing a ghostly kiss to her lips.

“I can move on now,” he said, voice laced with peace. “But I’ll wait for you. However long it takes.”

Elena stood on the porch as the sun rose, heart aching but full. She picked up her sketchbook and began to draw — not out of grief, but out of love.

Their love story had transcended death, and she knew, deep in her bones, that one day, their souls would meet again.

Until then, she painted.