A Ghost from the Past
1678 Words
The dim glow of my phone screen illuminated my face in the silent room. My fingers trembled slightly as I hovered over the notification, my pulse quickening with every passing second. The message was from an unknown number. My breath hitched. Could it be Sam?
I swallowed hard, my mind already spiraling into a storm of overthinking. The room around me faded into the background as my thoughts consumed me. My heartbeat drummed loudly in my ears, drowning out the rational part of my brain that told me it could be anyone. Maybe a friend. Maybe just a wrong number.
But deep down, something felt off.
And then it happened.
The unknown number called.
My stomach dropped. A lump formed in my throat as I stared at the screen, the ringing echoing through the hollow spaces of my chest. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to let it go to voicemail, to ignore it and pretend it never happened. But my trembling fingers betrayed me.
With hesitant breaths, I waited a few more seconds, gathering the shards of courage I barely had. Then, against my better judgment, I pressed the answer button.
I lifted the phone to my ear, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello… who is this, please?”
The silence on the other end lasted for only a heartbeat, but it was enough to stretch eternity before me.
And then—
“Hi.”
My entire world came to a crashing halt.
I almost dropped my phone. My breath hitched violently in my throat as that voice—his voice—pierced through me like a dagger laced with every memory I fought so hard to bury.
No.
No, no, no.
This isn’t happening.
My mind recoiled, violently shoving me back into the past—the past I had locked away, the past I swore I had moved on from.
Mark.
It was Mark.
The one I never wanted to hear from again.
The one whose name I refused to let cross my lips for so long.
The one who turned a drunken mistake into a painful month-long entanglement that left me hollow and empty.
He was back.
A strangled breath escaped me. I felt my grip on the phone tighten as if I could somehow crush the reality of this moment between my fingers. My vision blurred with the weight of unwanted memories flooding back, drowning me before I could fight back.
I didn’t need to hear another word.
Without hesitation, I ended the call.
I pressed the button so fast, it was as if my life depended on it. Maybe it did.
My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I switched my phone to airplane mode. I needed to disappear. I needed silence. I needed to make him disappear—again.
I threw my phone onto the bed and clenched my fists, squeezing my eyes shut. My heart was pounding furiously, but not from excitement. Not from joy.
From fear.
From anger.
From the cruel reminder that even when you think you've moved on, the past has a way of digging its claws into you when you least expect it.
I should have known.
Peace never lasted long in my life.
I blocked his number.
The moment my thumb pressed down on the "Block Contact" button, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over me—like closing a door to a room I never wanted to step into again.
And for a few days, it worked.
Silence. Peace.
But peace never lasts.
A few days later, my phone lit up again. Another unknown number. Another text.
I stared at the screen, my heart sinking into my stomach. Was it him again? Or was the universe just playing cruel games with me? I didn't want to find out. I locked my phone, tossed it onto my desk, and buried my face in my hands.
Life was already exhausting enough.
Work had been getting harder by the day. The constant training, the pressure, the endless expectations—I felt like I was drowning, barely keeping my head above water. The only silver lining was that our supervisors were understanding, approachable even. But no amount of kindness could erase the weight pressing down on me.
And then Sunday morning came.
I woke up drenched in sweat, my chest rising and falling in panicked gasps. My fingers dug into the sheets as I tried to steady my breathing, my mind still trapped in the nightmare.
It was Sam.
I had dreamed about him again.
The same nightmare that haunted me when we were together.
In the dream, he was smiling. Radiant. Happy. But not with me.
He stood beside a woman—her face blurred, unrecognizable, like a shadow I wasn’t meant to see clearly. And yet, I could feel her presence so vividly. She belonged there. Beside him. With him.
I looked into Sam’s eyes, desperate for something—anything. But what I saw there shattered me.
He raised his eyebrow slightly, just the way he always did when he was amused. But this time, it wasn’t playful. It was a silent message. A warning.
Stay away.
This is my happiness. And it’s not you.
I jolted awake, my body trembling from the remnants of the nightmare.
I thought I was over him. I thought I had moved on. But I was so, so wrong.
Even in my dreams, he still had power over me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and grabbed the bottle of cold water on my bedside table, drinking in gulps, as if it could wash away the ache tightening around my heart. But nothing could quench the thirst of forgetting. Nothing could erase the ghost of him from my mind.
A soft vibration pulled me back to reality.
I picked up my phone and squinted at the screen. A message from my best friend.
"Let’s secure our ticket for the oath-taking."
Oath-taking.
The final step—the moment that would mark the beginning of a new chapter.
And yet, I felt nothing.
I should be excited. I should be looking forward to it. Instead, my mind wandered elsewhere—to the things I still needed to do, the things I still couldn’t afford.
I didn’t even have something to wear.
A Filipiñana dress, maybe? But where would I get the money for that?
The thought made me sigh heavily. I glanced at my wallet, my fingers tracing its worn edges.
Empty.
Just like me.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head at the cruel irony of it all.
"I can’t be lonely and broke at the same time," I muttered under my breath.
Something inside me hardened.
I was done feeling helpless.
I was done being stuck in this endless cycle of barely getting by, of struggling to move forward while my past still had its claws in me.
I clenched my fists and whispered to myself—
I will break this cycle of poverty.
I will change my life.
No more ghosts. No more excuses. No more waiting for things to get better.
It was time to take control.
I did everything on my own.
From securing my oath-taking ticket to booking my trip to Cebu, every step was mine alone to take. No guiding hand, no comforting presence—just me, navigating through the chaos of it all.
And I thought I was okay with that.
But as I stepped onto the ship, surrounded by soon-to-be professionals like me, the weight of solitude pressed against my chest like an invisible force. The laughter and excitement of my fellow oath-takers echoed in the air, filling the space with warmth.
Their parents were with them.
Some were taking photos, their proud smiles radiant under the morning sun. Others were holding their children’s hands as if reliving the years of struggle it took to get here. Fathers carried their daughters’ bags. Mothers adjusted the collars of their sons’ suits.
And then there was me.
Alone.
No one to send me off with a hug. No one to hold my hand and say, I’m proud of you.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away, pretending it didn’t bother me. But the ache in my chest told a different story.
I knew why my parents couldn’t come.
First, they were old. Traveling such a long distance would be too exhausting for them.
Second, we simply couldn’t afford it.
Plane tickets, hotel accommodations, meals—it was too much. Too much for a family that had always struggled to make ends meet. Too much for a daughter who had spent her whole life trying to ease their burdens instead of adding to them.
I understood. I truly did.
But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
As the ship began to move, I took a seat near the deck, staring out at the vast ocean ahead. The rhythmic crashing of waves against the ship was both soothing and suffocating, mirroring the storm brewing inside me.
And then, without warning, the tears came.
They slipped down my cheeks silently, carried away by the salty breeze before anyone could notice.
I bit my lip to stifle a sob, my fingers gripping the hem of my shirt as if holding on to something—anything—that could anchor me.
Life always finds a way to punish me, doesn’t it?
I closed my eyes, willing the ache to fade, but it only deepened.
My hands trembled as I wiped my tears away, inhaling sharply before whispering into the wind—
"God, I trust Your process. Today is difficult… I hope tomorrow will be better."
The words felt fragile, almost breakable, but I clung to them like a prayer.
I opened my eyes and looked at the ocean again, watching how the waves danced under the golden sun. The water shimmered, endless and free—a reminder that even in vast loneliness, there was beauty.
And maybe, just maybe, better days were waiting beyond the horizon.
- Writer
