"The truth is a blade. It cuts cleanest when you least expect it, leaving wounds that never fully heal. And sometimes, the person you love most is the one holding the knife."
Sleep clung to me like a fog, thick and disorienting. I reached out instinctively, my hand searching the cold, empty space beside me. The sheets were still damp from Aiden's rain-soaked hair, the indentation of his body pressed into the mattress. But he was gone. Again.
I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest, and stared at the clock. 7:03 AM. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, casting skeletal shadows across the room. My throat tightened as I traced the edge of the pillow where his head had rested just hours ago. He was here. He was real. The wet footprints on the floor proved it, didn't they? Smudges of rainwater trailed from the bed to the door, evidence of his phantom presence.
But why did he keep leaving?
I dragged myself out of bed, my body still humming with the memory of his touch. The apartment felt colder without him, the silence oppressive. I pulled on one of his old sweatshirts the one he'd left here months ago, still smelling faintly of his cologne and padded to the kitchen. The coffee machine gurgled to life, its mechanical growl a poor substitute for human company.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I glanced at the screen. Unknown number. My stomach twisted, but I answered anyway.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was raw, shattered. "Amara?"
It took me a moment to place it. Lila. Aiden's mother. We'd met only once, at his graduation, but her voice was unmistakable warm and melodic, even through tears. Now, it was a broken thing.
"Mrs. Hayes?" I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles whitening. "Is everything "
"He's gone." The words spilled out in a sob. "Aiden… he's gone."
The world tilted. Gone. The word echoed, hollow and meaningless.
"What do you mean, gone?" My voice sounded distant, like someone else was speaking.
"Last night. A car accident. He was driving in the storm, and…" Her breath hitched, a ragged inhale. "They said he died instantly. No pain. But… God, Amara, he was on his way to see you."
The phone slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor.
No.
No, no, no. This wasn't possible. He was here. He kissed me, touched me, loved me. His hands were on my skin. His voice in my ear. I'll always love you.
I stumbled backward, my legs buckling as I slid to the floor. The tiles were icy against my bare thighs, but I barely felt it. My lungs burned, air refusing to come.
Died instantly. 11 PM.
But he'd shown up at my door at midnight.
An hour after he'd supposedly died.
"Amara? Amara, are you there?" Lila's voice crackled from the phone on the floor.
I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. My vision blurred, the room spinning. Ghost. The word slithered into my mind, cold and grotesque.
No. He wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't solid. Ghosts didn't leave footprints. Ghosts didn't make you feel the way he'd made me feel last night alive, wanted, consumed.
But then why was his skin so cold?
Why did he vanish every morning?
"I needed to see you,"he'd said. "I couldn't wait any longer."
I pressed my hands to my mouth, stifling a scream.
The apartment door creaked open.
I froze.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Familiar.
Aiden.
He stood in the doorway, backlit by the gray morning light. His hair was dry now, tousled, his clothes crisp and clean a dark sweater, jeans, the way he always dressed when he wasn't working. But his face… God, his face. Pale as moonlight, his eyes hollow, like two bruises in the snow.
"Amara." His voice was soft, frayed at the edges.
I scrambled backward, my back hitting the cabinets. "Stay away from me."
He flinched, his hand freezing mid-reach. "You know."
It wasn't a question.
"Your mother called." My voice shook. "She said you died. Last night. In the storm."
He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" The word tore out of me, sharp and broken. "You lied to me! You let me… let me touch you, kiss you, like you were still"
"I am still here," he said, his voice rising. He took a step forward, and the air around him seemed to ripple, like heat off asphalt. "I'm right here, Amara. I'm not gone. Not yet."
"Yet?" I choked out.
He didn't answer. Instead, he knelt in front of me, his movements too fluid, too graceful. Human, but not. His fingers brushed my cheek, and I recoiled.
"Don't," I whispered.
His hand dropped. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just… I needed you to see me. One last time."
"Last time?" My chest tightened. "So this is it? You're just… leaving?"
"I don't have a choice." His voice cracked. "I'm tethered here, but the pull… it's getting stronger. I can't fight it forever."
I stared at him, tears blurring my vision. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be real. Aiden was alive. He was here .
But the evidence was in front of me the unnatural chill of his skin, the way light seemed to pass through him when he moved, the shadows pooling too deeply around his feet.
"Why?" The word was a plea. "Why come back if you're just going to leave again?"
His eyes met mine, burning with a intensity that stole my breath. "Because I love you. And I couldn't go without saying goodbye."
"Goodbye?" I laughed, the sound jagged and wild. "You think this is a goodbye? You think showing up as some… some ghost, letting me believe you were alive, letting me love you, is a kindness?"
He winced. "I didn't plan this. I didn't even know I could come back. But when I died, all I could think about was you. And then… I was here. With you."
"For how long?" My voice broke. "How long do you get to haunt me before you vanish forever?"
He looked away. "I don't know."
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Somewhere in the apartment, a faucet dripped. Plink. Plink. Plink.
Finally, I spoke. "What happens now?"
He reached for me again, his hand hovering inches from my face. "Now… I need you to let me go."
I shook my head, tears spilling over. "I can't."
"You have to." His voice was gentle, but firm. "If you don't, I'll… I'll become something else. Something that isn't me."
I stared at him. "What does that mean?"
"The longer I stay, the more I fade. The more I change." His gaze dropped to his hands, which trembled faintly. "I'm losing control, Amara. Last night, when we… when we were together…"
He trailed off, but I remembered the way the lights had flickered, the way the room had grown colder, the way his touch had felt almost hungry.
"You're hurting," I whispered.
"No." He met my eyes. "You're hurting. And I can't…" He swallowed hard. "I can't watch that."
I wanted to scream. To rage. To demand that he stay, consequences be damned. But the look in his eyes desperate, grieving, final stopped me.
"So this is it?" I said quietly. "You're saying goodbye?"
He nodded.
"When?"
"Tonight."
The word hit like a punch. Tonight..One more night. One more stolen moment before he slipped away forever.
I stood abruptly, my legs shaking. "Then we make it count."
He rose with me, his brow furrowed. "Amara"
I kissed him. Hard. Desperate. My hands fisted in his sweater, pulling him closer, as if I could fuse our bodies together through sheer force of will. For a moment, he resisted, his lips cold and unyielding. Then, with a groan, he gave in.
His arms wrapped around me, crushing me to his chest, his kiss a wildfire. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was a collision, a reckoning, a need that devoured us both.
When we broke apart, gasping, he pressed his forehead to mine. "This is a mistake," he murmured.
"I don't care," I said fiercely. "You're mine. For one more night, you're mine."
He searched my face, his eyes dark with conflict. Then, slowly, he nodded.
''You're mine."
The words hung between us, a promise and a curse.
"The heart is a reckless thing. It clings to ghosts, kisses shadows, and calls it love. And when the truth comes, it breaks not with a scream, but with a whisper, soft and final, like the closing of a grave."