Page 46 of Ghost Of You
When the speeches end, they welcome the bride and groom onto the dance floor and they dance to their song, getting lost in each other. My mum then encourages everyone to then join them on the dance floor and I grab Laelia's hand, pulling her along.
As we dance together, I draw her close, feeling the delicate rhythm of our hearts beating in sync. Her arms slide around my neck, fingers lightly tracing the back of my neck as if memorising every contour. My hands find their place on her waist, drawing her nearer until there’s no space left between us. We sway together to the gentle caress of the music, our movements perfectly in tune with the melody and with each other.
Being this close to her, feeling the warmth of her touch and being met with eyes full of love, I'm lost in her completely. There's nothing more in this world than her. She is all I'm going to ever want and need. She has my heart, and she can do whatever she wants with it.
In her arms, I find a sense of home and belonging that I’ve never known before. Every breath, every heartbeat, every shared glance reaffirms what I’ve always known deep in my soul—she is my everything. And as we dance together, enveloped in this moment of perfect closeness, I realise more than ever how profoundly I love her.
She leans her head against me and I wrap my arms around her fully, holding her closer, being hit with her fruity scent. This is the scent of all my happiness. She's the sunshine to my rain, myheaven to my hell, my fucking everything and I can't wait for us to say our I do's too. I'm going to marry this girl and she's going to be mine, forever.
Chapter twenty-four
Present
Hearing wheels screech across a floor, feeling myself being dragged along, I start to come to. My mind is foggy, and every thought feels like it's slipping through my fingers. I don't know why I feel so dazed or why my head feels like it's on the verge of exploding, but deep down, there's an instinctive sense that whatever is happening, it won’t be something I’ll like. The buzzing in my ears is relentless, drowning out the voices that swirl around me, each one muffled and distant. I try to open my eyes, but the lights are too harsh, searing my vision and forcing me to close them tightly. My entire body aches, a dull throb echoing through my bones, and then I feel hands on me—gentle, yet foreign, like they don’t belong. The touch creeps up to my ribs, and as they press slightly, I hiss in pain, recoiling instinctively.
What’s happening? Where am I?
Abruptly waking up, I come face to face with the comforting darkness of my room, the familiar shadows stretching across the walls. I glance down at the clock on my bedside table.
3:04 AM.
I’ve barely been asleep for three hours, and a sinking feeling tells me that sleep won’t be returning anytime soon. Everything that haunts my sleep feels so real, yet when I try to recall it, it slips away like sand through my fingers. I’ve avoided horror movies, sticking to love stories and Disney classics, hoping they would bring peace to my nights. I’ve cut out alcohol and weed, hoping to calm my restless mind, but nothing seems to work. I can’t shake the question that lingers: what is it that’s tormenting me?
Turning to look at Laelia, I notice her side of the bed is empty. My heart skips a beat. Where could she be at this hour?
Quietly, I slip out of bed, feeling the cool floor beneath my feet as I make my way down the stairs. The living room is empty, and so is the kitchen. Confusion settles in as I turn to head back upstairs, and suddenly, I find myself face to face with Laelia. She’s standing there, still and silent, causing me to jump back, my hand instinctively clutching my chest.
“You scared me,” I say softly, my voice a bit shaky. But she just stands there, staring at me with an unsettling calmness. The dim light from the kitchen barely illuminates her face, but there’s something off, something I can’t quite put my finger on. “Laelia?” I call out gently, but she remains silent, unblinking.
I take a cautious step towards her, and in the faint glow of the moonlight streaming in through the window, I catch a glimpse of something dark and wet on her face—something red. My breath hitches.
“W-what’s happened? You’re hurt,” I stammer, rushing towards her with concern, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You did this to me,” she says, her voice firm, cutting through the silence like a knife. I stop dead in my tracks, my mind reeling with confusion.
“W-what do you mean I did this to you?” My voice quivers, fear creeping into the edges of my words.
“You did this to us!” she suddenly screams, her voice filled with anguish as she places a hand on her stomach. In a blink, she’s standing right in front of me, her face marred with cuts, blood trickling down her arms, and a dark, crimson handprint staining her white nightgown. Before I can process what’s happening, she lunges at me with a guttural scream, and everything around me goes black.
I shoot up in bed, my heart racing as I clutch my chest, panting heavily. My head spins, and I’m utterly disoriented, struggling to make sense of what just happened. Have I just had a nightmare within a nightmare? The clock reads 8:23 AM, and Laelia’s side of the bed is still empty. Anxiety grips me as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rush out of the room.
Downstairs, I find Laelia curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. She looks worse than before, her skin pale, her eyes sunken with exhaustion. My heart aches seeing her like this. I crouch down in front of her, the soft rustle of the blanket as I move causing her eyes to flutter open. They’re glazed over, distant, and my worry deepens. She needs to see a doctor, and fast.
Without hesitation, I grab the phone, not even bothering to ask her if she wants me to call. She’s too unwell to make that decision herself. As I dial, the phone rings in my ear,the automated menu options blurring together as I choose the appropriate ones, my eyes never leaving her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper, strained and hoarse.
“I’m calling the doctor to get you an appointment,” I reply gently, trying to keep my voice steady. She weakly shakes her head, trying to sit up.
“Killian,” she murmurs, her voice breaking. “I don’t need them. I just need to rest.”
I ignore her protests, waiting for the receptionist to pick up. I can’t stand to see her suffer like this.
“The Medical Centre. I’m Joanne, how can I help you today?” the receptionist’s voice chirps through the phone.
“I’d like to book an appointment for my fiancée,” I say, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice. “She’s about eighteen to nineteen weeks pregnant. She’s been constantly vomiting, she’s lethargic, dizzy, and she hasn’t eaten much of anything in the last few days.”
The receptionist hums in response, typing away on the other end. “Okay, I can get you in for two o’clock. Can I take a name?”