The ghost I never stopped loving

I stared at the letter right in front of me and could not begin to understand how it ended up in my apartment.

How? I wondered.

I felt the tears that welled up in my eyes, struggling to keep them at bay, as if they had a mind of their own. It was from him. The one I was destined to marry – or at least, so I thought, until he died.

Gone, but never forgotten.

That was five years ago. So why now? I couldn’t have missed it; it was impossible. I had always kept things tidy, never leaving anything out of place, not even overnight. I tried to swallow the tears, but the pain of losing him resurfaced and hurt too much to push away. It felt like it was only yesterday he disappeared, leaving me to wander the earth alone and in silence.

After he was gone, I became no more than a whisper of who I used to be, left with a heart that would never heal. A single tear slid down my cheek, but I immediately brushed it away with the back of my thumb. The absence after him had left me with an echoing silence – deafening. I had screamed for him, but he never came. He was gone and would never come back again.

I pushed the thoughts of his death away. I would never be able to change the past. It was done, and I had no choice but to accept what happened.

And yet… I held a letter written by him, the love of my life and the one I could never escape – no matter how much I tried. He was the ghost of my past, the one I would always love, now and forever.

Only my name was written on the back, but I knew it was from him – it was the way he had written my name. The handwriting was unique, elegant, and carefully written. I tore open the letter but paused for a moment, afraid of what it might say, and forced myself to take a deep breath.

I unfurled the letter to its full size and read the first word.

“My Dearest Millie—”

I stopped reading. It all became too much. Every stroke felt deliberate and careful, as if he had taken his time to write it.

I wanted to burn the letter, let the fire drown the last fragments, watch it crumble, and let the heat lick my hands clean. But… it was from him. How could I?

He was worth the pain, but I was way past him. Or so I thought. I needed to know what the letter said, and I lowered my gaze and continued my reading.

“I know this must come as a surprise…”

No shit. I wanted to scream at him. But he wasn’t here, was he? So… who could I turn my anger towards?

“… but I needed time—”

Time?! Time for what?

“You were never supposed to know. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since my death—”

What?! What does he mean by his death? Is he still alive? If he’s alive, I’ll put him to rest myself. So, God help me.

“I had to leave. Please understand.“

No. I regret picking up the letter. I should have followed my first instinct and let the fire swallow the letter and spit out its ashes. But now I couldn’t stop halfway. I needed to finish the letter.

“I was a danger to you… to myself and had no other choice than to fake my own death.” I squeezed my eyes shut, held them so tightly closed, it hurt. Still, tears streamed down my cheeks. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t contain them.

“I’m coming to see you.”

The dot was darker than the rest of the writing, like a warning I couldn’t ignore.

“I need to.”

Those were his last words, but when I should have felt contentment and happiness, all I felt was dread and rage.

He chose to leave me. I wouldn’t even wish that pain upon my worst enemy, and the one person I thought loved me let me cry for days on end while he was still out there.

If he needed to see me, then he would have to find me. I was leaving and started packing up my things.

After a few minutes, I rushed towards the door, with no intention of coming back anytime soon. But when the door swung open… there he was. The only words I managed to say were his name. Slow and tender.

A whisper.

“Jack.”