Page 80 of Ghost Of You
I want to scream, to rage against the heavens, but my voice is hoarse from the torrent of tears. I kneel beside Laelia's bed, my hands trembling as I reach out and touch her lifeless form. The coldness of her skin is a brutal reminder that she is gone, leaving only a hollow shell where her warmth once was.
I remember the joy in her eyes when we talked about our future, the way she caressed her belly as if holding the world's most precious secret. I remember her laughter, the way it filled our home with light. Now, the silence in the room is a voice that her laughter once filled.
My tears fall freely, each one a testament to the depth of my grief. I clutch at Laelia's cold hand, my fingers interlocking with hers in a desperate, futile attempt to hold on. The monitors fromsomewhere else sound like a cruel metronome, counting down the moments of my shattered life.
The door to the room opens, and a doctor walks in, his face etched with concern and sadness. I barely notice him as he moves towards Laelia, speaking in a low voice, but the words barely register. All I can focus on is the overwhelming emptiness that has consumed me.
"Killian," my mother's voice breaks through, her tone both soothing and filled with sorrow. "We need to talk to the doctors."
I shake my head, unable to pull my gaze from Laelia. "No," I rasp. "I can't leave her."
The doctor's voice is gentle but firm. "We need to discuss what's happened and what's next. It's important."
I look up at him, my eyes red and swollen. "Next?" I echo, the word feeling foreign, disconnected from the reality of what I've lost. "There's no next. Not without her."
The doctor's expression softens, and he gestures for me to follow him outside. Reluctantly, I rise, my legs weak and unsteady. My mother supports me, her presence a fragile thread connecting me to the world outside this room, while I know the rest of them wait in the waiting room.
In the corridor, the doctors explains the details of the accident, the extent of the injuries, and the medical efforts made. But his words are hollow, mere background noise to the overwhelming grief that has engulfed me. I hear phrases like "trauma" and "complications," but they are meaningless in the face of my personal catastrophe. Each term feels like a cruel mockery of the life that has been torn from me, and I can't make sense of what's happening around me. My heart aches with an unbearable weight, a hollow emptiness where joy and hope once resided.
As the doctor continues speaking, I can't process the details. The pain in my chest is suffocating, and every breath feels like a struggle. I am adrift in a sea of sorrow, my world collapsing inon itself. All I can think about is the future that will never be, the dream that has been shattered. The agony of knowing that Laelia and our baby are gone is an unbearable burden, crushing my spirit and leaving me in an abyss of heartbreak.
My mother's comforting presence is a thin thread connecting me to reality, but even that feels tenuous. The ache in my heart is constant, gnawing torment, and I can't escape the reality that the love of my life is gone. The doctor's words fade into the background, irrelevant against the tidal wave of grief that has engulfed me. All that remains is the crushing emptiness and the profound loss that consumes every part of my being.
Them.
Chapter forty-four
10th May 2023
Sitting at the edge of our bed, I stare down at my phone, hovering over the voicemail button for the thousandth time. Every day since the accident, I've replayed the voicemails I have saved from Laelia, seeking comfort in her laughter, her words of love, and the promise of her return. Words that once brought warmth now feel like a cruel echo from a past I can never return to.
Pressing the button, I close my eyes and brace myself for the familiar voice, hoping that today it will somehow be different, that her words will reach across time and space and heal this aching void.
"Hey, handsome! It's me!" Her voice is a soft melody, even in this heartache.
"I just wanted to let you know that I felt her move. Wait! Did I just say her?" She laughs lightly, a sound I can almost see as if she's right here in the room with me. "Because you always insist it's a girl, I think so too! Growing a life inside me feels so surreal. It's like magic, and I'm so excited. I can't wait for her to be here, for us to be a family. I can't wait to marry you, to spend therest of my life with you, to watch our little girl grow up. You've given me everything I've ever dreamed of, and more. I love you, Killian. Always have, always will. Anyway, I'll see you at home, handsome. I love you. Bye."
I open my eyes, the weight of her absence crashing over me anew. My heart aches as I scroll through my photo album, filled with snapshots of us—happy, carefree, untroubled. Each photo is a fragment of life that was stolen from us, a collage of memories that now seem painfully out of reach.
As tears slip down my face, a knock at the door pulls me from my spiral. Ethan stands there, his face a mask of sorrow and sympathy. "It's time," he says softly.
I don't respond. I just lock my phone, slide it into my pocket, and follow him. I wish with every part of me that this day wasn't happening. That Laelia and our baby were still here, alive.
The cemetery is a sea of flowers, each one a symbol of love and loss. Some are fresh and vibrant, others have started to wilt, reflecting the fragile nature of life itself. The leaves drift down from trees like confetti, as if nature itself is mourning with us. The sky is an overcast canvas, occasionally broken by fleeting rays of sunlight.
In front of me, the oak-coloured casket seems to loom larger with every passing moment. My heart is a heavy stone, lodged in my chest, threatening to crush me with its weight. I sit, numbly watching as the priest speaks beautiful words about love and loss, despite neither of us being religious. The ceremony, arranged by my mother because I'm too broken to do it myself, feels surreal. I blame myself for everything—if I hadn't gottendistracted, if I hadn't looked at my phone when I should have been focused on the road…
Our second chance at love had been a bright flame, but now it's been extinguished, leaving only ashes and darkness. I stand, feeling Ethan's hand on my shoulder. He's been my rock through all of this, staying with me, but I've asked for space after today's service, and he has reluctantly agreed.
As the mourners disappear, I find myself left with my mum, Lloyd, Jasper and Ethan. I need a moment alone. I ask them to step away, and they nod, reluctantly retreating.
I turn my back to the casket, hoping for some sign that this is all just a nightmare. But nothing changes. I am still here, and Laelia and our baby are still gone. The only tangible thing left is the envelope with our baby's name choices. We agreed on a name for our daughter, Estella—a name as bright as the star she was meant to be.
I see a figure through the treeline and know immediately who it is. Anger flares within me, burning fiercely. I walk towards him, my rage building with each step. But before I can reach him, Ethan grabs my arm, pulling me to a halt.
"Let me go," I snarl, trying to free myself.
"No," Ethan says firmly. "Think about Laelia and your daughter. What would they want?"