Page 43 of Ghost Of You
Standing at the base of the stairs, I find myself gazing up at the beige walls that have long been adorned with snapshots of my life—moments captured with my mum, and now, with Lloyd joining the tapestry of memories. These walls, once a silent witness to our past adventures, are about to embrace new chapters, unfolding with today’s joy and tomorrow’s promises.
The carpet on the stairs remains that same peculiar shade of burgundy, stubbornly holding onto the memories of my childhood. The stain on the bottom step is a stubborn relic of countless family escapades—despite my mum’s best efforts to erase it, the stain stands as a testament to our shared history, enduring and unchangeable. Yet, even though the carpet hasn’t been replaced, the warmth of our home has always been timeless.
As I take in the familiar hallway, nostalgia washes over me, taking me back to simpler times when every corner of this house was a stage for our youthful adventures. I recall a time when Ethan and I, in our eight-year-old mischief, raided my mum’sfavourite bed sheets to fashion ghost costumes. We danced around the house, giggling uncontrollably, knowing well that we’d soon face Mum’s furious chase—her laughter mingling with her scolding. Then there was the sledging escapade when, at ten, our makeshift sledges turned the stairs into a thrilling raceway. The thrill ended abruptly when I collided with the hallway cabinet, shattering Mum’s cherished vase and breaking my arm—my introduction to the world of surgery.
My mum’s unwavering dedication to patching up my many injuries defined my childhood. From broken noses to trapped fingers, and even a swing-induced scar above my eyebrow, my mum’s love and care were constants in the chaos of my childhood. Yet, amidst all the chaos, one memory shines brightest: those carefree afternoons spent watching "Mamma Mia" and singing along to "Dancing Queen" at the top of our lungs. It was our ritual, one we never grew tired of, even after a thousand viewings.
Growing up with my mum was nothing short of paradise, despite the challenges we faced. I never knew my father beyond the stories of his departure, a man who claimed he never wanted children only to later father four more. Mum reached out to them, but their coldness kept us at a distance, a fact I’ve long accepted with a resigned shrug. Despite working two jobs to keep us afloat, my mum always carved out Sundays for us—simple yet profound moments that filled our lives with love and connection.
In a small but significant way, I try to return that love by sending her money, though she invariably spends it on me, always insisting it's a gift. Her stubbornness to accept help is matched only by her boundless generosity.
As I stand here, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the promise of the future, I realise just how much my mum means tome. She’s my rock, my guiding star, and now, with Laelia by my side, I feel I have the two most extraordinary women in my life.
Watching Ethan lean casually against the door frame, dressed in his sleek black suit and engrossed in texting, I can’t help but tease him.
“Who’s the lucky recipient of your messages now?” I ask with a grin.
He glances up, smirking at his phone before meeting my gaze. “Lauren,” he replies nonchalantly. I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Don’t judge,” he adds, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“How many is it this month?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
He starts counting on his fingers, looking uncertain. “Six?” he guesses hesitantly.
I run my hand down my face in exasperation. “We’re only two weeks in, Ethan.”
“Seven, I think,” he corrects with a sheepish grin.
“You really should consider finding a meaningful relationship instead of... well, this,” I suggest, gesturing vaguely.
He dismisses my concerns with a wave of his hand. “You only live once,” he says, returning his attention to his phone.
Despite his womanising ways, Ethan is undeniably charming and kind-hearted. I know that one day he’ll find his soulmate and settle down. I hope that day comes soon.
Turning my attention back to myself, I scrutinise my reflection for what feels like the hundredth time. Today is Mum’s wedding day, and I’m tasked with giving her away. My tie is straightened, my suit immaculate, and I’ve spruced up my beard and moustache just so. My favourite Dior Fahrenheit aftershave, with its blend of mandarin, violet, cedar, patchouli, and leather, completes my look.
As I adjust my tie, the creak of the stairs draws my gaze upward, and there stands Laelia in all her radiant beauty. Her A-line, V-neck, floor-length dress in peacock green transforms her into a vision of elegance. Her hair is adorned with delicate green flowers, complementing the dress perfectly. As she descends, bathed in the warm sunlight filtering through the landing window, she takes my breath away.
She reaches me, her eyes locking onto mine as a fragrant, fruity aroma envelops me. She looks like an angel, and I’m utterly captivated. In that moment, as we stand together, everything else fades away, leaving me lost in her gaze and the ethereal beauty that she is.
“Killian!” Ethan’s voice snaps me out of my reverie. I turn to find him chuckling. “Are you okay?”
I look back at Laelia, my heart full. “Perfect,” I reply, my gaze making her blush. “You look absolutely stunning.”
Her eyes scan me with approval. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” She leans in for a tender kiss, full of love and warmth.
“Get a room,” Ethan quips from the sidelines.
As Laelia pulls away, she gives Ethan a playful flip of the finger, a gesture that makes me smile with pride. “I’m sure you’d enjoy the show, Ethan. Maybe you could learn a thing or two about pleasing a woman,” Laelia teases.
I raise an eyebrow at her teasing. “Little rebel,” I murmur.
“Definitely a keeper, Killian,” Ethan says with a grin.
“Don’t I know it,” I reply without hesitation, causing Laelia to blush once more.
“Hate to break the moment, but I’m ready!” My mum’s voice rings out from down the hall.