A ghost from the past
1328 Words
Four days had passed since the night everything spiraled out of control. Four long, quiet, suffocating days. Laura had locked herself inside her own world—partly out of fear, partly out of confusion, and partly because she didn’t trust what her heart was capable of doing if she saw Cole again.
She kept replaying the moment she ran away from him.
The look on his face.
His soft confession.
Her panic.
Her door slamming shut.
The tears that drowned her after.
She knew she owed him an explanation—something, anything—but her heart wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not when her wounds still felt too fresh, too raw, and too unpredictable.
So she avoided the gym.
Avoided the streets he might take.
Avoided even stepping out to check her mailbox.
It was easier to hide.
But hiding came with a price: isolation. And isolation came with a cost she knew too well—silence that grew too loud.
That Thursday morning, as she scrolled absent-mindedly through her phone, a message popped up from an event planning consultant she occasionally worked with.
“Hi Laura, we need a photographer for an engagement party today. Good pay. Are you available? It’ll be great exposure.”
Laura stared at the message for almost a full minute.
Going out meant facing the world.
Facing people.
Facing the possibility of bumping into emotions she wasn’t prepared for.
But the pay was very good. And beyond that, lying in her apartment for four days had her chest tightening in a way she refused to describe as loneliness.
Maybe she needed this.
Maybe stepping outside would remind her she was still living, not just existing.
She typed back:
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
And that was how her day began to shift.
---
She cleaned the house a bit—small tasks that made her feel like she still had control over something. Afterward, she stepped into a warm shower, letting the water wash over her skin until her heartbeat steadied.
She didn’t feel like dressing up. She never did. But today wasn’t about her—it was someone else’s happy moment, and she didn’t want to show up looking like the ghost of heartbreak.
She opened her closet and scanned her clothes.
Her fingers brushed against a yellow flowery dress she hadn’t worn in months. It was soft, simple, and flattering, with delicate floral patterns that popped beautifully against her complexion. She slipped into it, then paired it with black strap sandals that gave her just the right amount of height.
She added small gold earrings and a matching bracelet.
Elegant, simple, understated—just like her.
She let her hair fall freely over her shoulders, brushed lightly until it gleamed. Then she applied light makeup—nothing dramatic, just enough to brighten her features and hide the exhaustion from four days of emotional withdrawal.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
For the first time in days, she didn’t look broken.
She looked like someone trying.
And trying was enough for today.
She grabbed her bag, slid her camera inside, and stepped out of her house with a deep breath.
Fresh air tasted strangely unfamiliar—cooler, lighter, almost hopeful.
---
The engagement venue was bright, lively, and filled with the hum of celebration. Soft music played in the background, and the place was adorned with warm lights, floral arrangements, and excited voices. It had been a long time since Laura had been surrounded by so many people, and the sudden noise made anxiety flutter in her stomach.
Still, she forced a smile and adjusted her camera strap.
A lady in a peach dress and clipboard walked briskly toward her.
“Hi! Are you Laura? The photographer?”
“Yes,” Laura responded gently.
“Perfect! I’m the bride-to-be’s friend. Here’s what we need—lots of candid shots, some family moments, close-ups of the decor, and of course the proposal highlight itself.”
Laura nodded professionally and followed her through the venue. The bride-to-be was radiant, glowing with a mix of excitement and nerves, and she greeted Laura warmly. They exchanged quick pleasantries before Laura began her work.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Her camera captured laughter, stolen smiles, wine glasses clinking, bright balloons swaying, and families blending together. She worked quietly, gliding among the guests, watching love in motion.
And for a moment—just a small moment—it felt good to be somewhere joyful.
Then the music softened, and a hush fell over the crowd.
“It’s time,” someone whispered.
Laura positioned herself near the decorated arch, ready for the big moment. She zoomed in on the glowing golden letters:
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
The bride-to-be walked forward slowly, her hands trembling in excitement. There was a man standing in front of the sign—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark curly hair. His back was facing Laura; she could only see his outline as he waited for his future fiancée.
The bride-to-be approached him from behind and hugged him lovingly around the waist.
He turned, smiling, and leaned down to peck her on the lips. She giggled.
Laura lifted her camera.
But the moment her lens focused on his face—
Her finger froze above the shutter.
Her entire body went cold.
Her breath caught in her chest.
Her heart stopped.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Not here.
Not now.
Not him.
Her camera trembled in her hands, and she lowered it slowly, unable to blink, unable to breathe.
He turned slightly—an angle that revealed his jawline, the familiar shape of his mouth, the eyes she knew too well.
And then he fully faced the crowd.
The world around her blurred.
Voices disappeared.
The entire hall shrank into silence.
Her vision tunneled.
It was him.
Jonathan.
Her past.
Her heartbreak.
Her ruin.
Standing under warm lights.
Smiling.
Holding another woman.
Preparing to propose to her.
Her knees weakened.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Memories stabbed through her like knives.
His laughter.
His lies.
His promises.
His betrayal.
She felt herself break—slowly, painfully.
Jonathan felt it too.
He sensed the weight of someone’s stare and turned his head toward the crowd. His eyes scanned the room affectionately at first—
Until they locked onto someone familiar.
Someone he never expected to see again.
Someone he once shattered.
Someone he left behind without a second thought.
Laura.
His entire expression shifted in less than a heartbeat—shock flooding his eyes before he masked it beneath a calm facade.
But she saw it.
She felt it.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest. Her breathing faltered.
And then his lips parted.
Barely a whisper, but enough to slice through the noise of the room and reach her like a blow.
“Laura.”
- Writer
