Page 32 of Ghost Of You
I immediately close the distance between us and open my arms. She steps into my embrace, and I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. Her body feels unusually cold to my touch, and her skin is pale, devoid of its usual rosy hue. It’s as though the life has been drained from her.
“You look like death warmed up,” I say softly, my voice laced with concern. “You need to rest and take it easy. No work for you tomorrow until you start to feel better.”
Laelia sighs, the sound almost imperceptible. “I hate being sick.”
“You’re pregnant, and on top of that, you’ve likely caught the flu. You need to be off your feet. You’ve been overexerting yourself with that case you’ve been working on.”
“I know,” she mumbles, pulling away slightly to look up at me. Her chestnut-coloured eyes hold a depth of emotion that makes my heart ache. “I just don’t want anyone to be alone. I don’t want you to be on your own when I’m not here. But I also want to leave a positive impact on people’s lives. I don’t want to be forgotten about.”
I gently caress her chin with my thumb, my heart swelling with affection and empathy. “Just because you’re not here doesn’t mean I’ll forget about you. I always think of you.”
“And I always think about you. No matter where I am,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.
Standing on her tiptoes, she kisses me, and I melt into the kiss, savouring its softness and the depth of emotion it conveys. It feels almost surreal, like a moment from a dream, but the warmth and tenderness are unmistakably real.
When she finally pulls away, I feel a pang of loss.
“It’s Charlie’s birthday today,” she says, shifting the topic.
Charlie is a young boy who lives a few houses down. His parents, Philip and Mandy, own a landscaping business and built our patio when we moved in. They’re friendly, and we occasionally see them around town or at the local pub. Every year, they host a birthday party for Charlie, and we’re always invited. Today, Charlie turns ten, and we were supposed to attend his party this evening. I had already messaged Philip and Mandy earlier, explaining that we couldn’t make it dueto Laelia’s condition. They responded with understanding and warm wishes.
“I’ve already told them we can’t go,” I say, not wanting to dwell on the disappointment.
Laelia’s face falls, a look of genuine regret crossing her features. “I wanted to go.”
“I don’t think either of us are in the right frame of mind to go,” I say gently, my heart aching at the sight of her disappointment. All she ever wants is to please others, even when she’s not at her best. “How about this?” I suggest. “We can sit out back on the decking later and watch the fireworks from afar. That way, we’re still celebrating with them, just from our own little spot.”
Her frown slowly fades, and a beautiful, relieved smile spreads across her face. “Under a blanket?” she asks, her voice tinged with hope.
“Yes,” I reply with a chuckle. “Under a blanket.”
Laelia’s smile grows, and she nods, the light in her eyes returning, if only for a moment. It’s a small comfort, but sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference.
We spend the next few hours preparing for our quiet celebration. I make sure to get a cosy blanket and set up a few pillows on the decking. Laelia helps when she can, though her movements are slow and deliberate, a testament to her fatigue. As the evening approaches, the sky darkens, and we settle down under the blanket, our backs resting comfortably against the cushions.
From our vantage point, we can see the distant fireworks lighting up the night sky. Their vibrant colours and dazzling patterns offer a mesmerising spectacle, and though we’re not at Charlie’s party, it feels like a shared celebration in its own way.
Laelia leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I can feel her breathing slow and steady, a sense of peace settling over her. The fireworks continue to burst overhead, their reflectionsdancing in her eyes. Laelia has always adored fireworks, and because of that, we make it a tradition to either visit the park or to celebrate at Ethan's on New Year's Eve, making the end of a beautiful year and the start of a new one.
Every time the sky lights up with those brilliant bursts, I'm reminded of our first New Year's together at Ethan's—the night that ended with a bang, both in the sky and in our hearts.
Chapter fifteen
31st December 2017
Music thunders through the walls, making the floor vibrate, while bodies sway and stumble in every room, hall, and corner. Red solo cups litter the floor like confetti, some crushed, others abandoned with the dregs of cheap beer soaking into the carpet. Ethan's New Year's Eve party has officially gone from casual get-together to full-blown chaos. And honestly, I’m just glad this isn’t my place.
I did try warning Ethan about the flood of people turning his house into a war zone. His response? A lazy shrug and a smirk. “It is what it is.” Yeah, well, he’s going to be the one scraping puke off the walls tomorrow, not me.
The house feels like the inside of a furnace, so Laelia and I escape to the backyard, where a small fire pit offers some semblance of sanity. Ethan’s across from us, attached to some girl—Tasha? Tara?—while Jasper's hanging out nearby, clearly unbothered by the make-out session going down next to him.
Laelia's friends, Ada and Maxine, have long since disappeared into the night, probably up to no good. Ethan, mid-snog, keepsnudging Jasper to go find his own New Year’s fling, but Jasper’s not interested in a two-hour romance.
Laelia’s legs are draped over mine, her beer nearly empty as she chats with a girl who tried and failed to catch Jasper's eye. The girl’s friend, however, is all about catching mine—batting those fake lashes and sending air kisses like she's auditioning for a reality show. Laelia’s not having it. She’s already warned the girl with a glare that could melt steel, and I’m pretty sure the next step involves a shovel and a shallow grave.
The girl blows another kiss my way, and I make the smart choice to look away, pretending the label on my beer bottle is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. I slide a hand onto Laelia’s leg, and she gives me a smile that says, yeah, I’ve got this. The flirty girl finally takes the hint and drags her friend off, but not without a final wink in my direction.
Laelia’s smirk says it all. “What did you do?” I ask, eyeing her with a mix of admiration and fear.