The Girl From His Past Returns
660 Words
Chapter Eleven: The Girl From His Past Returns
First-person POV (Amara)
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The next morning, I woke up to music playing downstairs.
Soft piano.
Not a recording.
Real fingers. Real notes.
His song.
The one he only played when he couldn’t breathe.
I threw on a sweater and rushed down the marble staircase, my bare feet echoing. The music led me to the music room.
But it wasn’t Liam at the piano.
It was… her.
Long black hair.
Skin like glass.
Slim fingers dancing across the ivory keys like they owned every note.
She turned as I entered, smiling faintly — like she already knew who I was.
“Amara,” she said softly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My throat closed. “Who are you?”
Before she could answer, Liam’s voice cut through the air.
“Selene.”
He stood behind me.
His face pale. His lips parted.
“Hello, Liam,” she said, rising from the piano. “Miss me?”
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I looked between them.
Him — stiff, unreadable.
Her — confident, glowing, dangerous.
She walked toward him and touched his arm like she still had a right.
He didn’t pull away.
That’s when something cracked inside me.
“You didn’t tell me anyone was coming,” I said quietly.
Liam blinked, finally looking at me. “She wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“But I am,” Selene said sweetly. “And it looks like you’ve replaced me with a toy.”
A toy.
My hands curled into fists.
“I’m his wife,” I said.
She laughed — an elegant, cruel laugh. “Of course you are. But you’re not the first one who thought that meant something.”
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Helen later whispered the truth to me in the kitchen.
Selene had been Liam’s first love — the girl before the one who died.
“She disappeared,” Helen said, wiping her hands. “Left him right before his fiancée passed. No goodbye. No warning.”
“And now she’s back?” I asked.
Helen nodded. “And she doesn’t like being replaced.”
---
That night, Liam didn’t come to bed.
Again.
But I heard him.
Downstairs. With her.
Talking. Drinking.
Laughing.
It wasn’t the same laugh he gave me.
It was deeper.
Older.
Real.
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I stayed up, waiting for him.
But when the clock hit 3AM and he still hadn’t come up…
I finally broke.
I slipped into my robe, walked downstairs, and paused in the hallway.
Their voices floated from the living room.
“I missed this,” Selene whispered.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Liam said, his voice low.
“And yet, you didn’t tell me to leave.”
A pause.
Then the sound of a glass clinking.
Then silence.
Then… footsteps.
I rushed back upstairs before I could hear more.
I didn’t want to know if they kissed.
I didn’t want to see if he let her touch him the way he once touched me.
---
In our bedroom, I sat on the floor, holding the ring again.
The gold felt heavier tonight.
Like it knew something I didn’t.
Like it had been forged for someone else’s finger — and ended up on mine by mistake.
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When Liam finally returned, it was past 4AM.
I didn’t look at him.
He didn’t say a word.
He just removed his watch, tossed it on the nightstand, and lay down.
Not beside me.
But on the edge — cold and quiet.
Again.
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“Do you still love her?” I asked the darkness.
He didn’t answer.
“I just want to know if I was ever more than a replacement.”
Still silence.
Then, finally:
“I don’t know what I feel anymore.”
I nodded, tears sliding down my face.
“Then tell me when you figure it out,” I said. “Because I’m tired of loving a ghost.”
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