After I died, I became a ghost, constantly hovering around my ex-boyfriend, Caleb. I thought he couldn’t see me, so I shamelessly slept beside him, even swiped his underwear, and chirped away while he was in the shower. Until that day, when his utterly exasperated voice came from the bathroom: “Elara, are you done messing around? Give me back my briefs.” I died, a hundred days after breaking up with Caleb. A freak car accident. Quick and definitive. When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in mid-air, watching my cold body being covered with a white sheet and loaded onto an ambulance. Then, an unseen force tugged at me, pulling me through countless walls, before finally depositing me in a familiar apartment. It was Caleb’s place. And just like that, I became a ghost. I floated in front of Caleb. He was sitting on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in hand, drinking mouthful after mouthful. The coffee table was littered with empty liquor bottles and takeout containers. The whole apartment reeked. He was a shadow of his former self, cheekbones sharp, eyes sunken, a scruffy beard dusting his jaw. Those eyes, which once always held a spark when they looked at me, were now utterly vacant. My non-existent heart felt like it was being squeezed tight, an excruciating pain. We’d been together for three years, from college sweethearts to navigating the real world. Everyone just assumed we’d end up getting married. Six months ago, he suddenly became distant, always busy. We argued, gave each other the silent treatment, until finally, he called it quits. He just said, “Elara, I’m exhausted.” Back then, I just thought he didn’t love me anymore. But seeing him in this state now… I wasn’t so sure anymore. “Caleb,” I floated to his ear, unable to stop myself from chattering, “Look at you, what a mess. You can’t even bother to shave, or sweep the floor. The garbage is practically burying you alive!” He didn’t react at all, just lifted the whiskey bottle and took another long swig. Fine. He really couldn’t see or hear me. My heart sank, yet a strange sense of relief washed over me. At least, I could still be by his side like this.
Deep into the night, Caleb drank himself into a stupor and passed out on the couch. His brow was furrowed, and he was muttering something I couldn’t quite make out. I leaned my ear closer. “Elara… don’t go…” My non-existent heart ached. Ghosts don’t shed tears, not literally. But his words made my very essence feel like it was unraveling. Well, well, Caleb. So you haven’t forgotten me after all. My courage grew, and I floated to his side, curling up next to him just like I used to. I couldn’t touch him, but I could smell his familiar scent, just as it always was. I stared at his sleeping face, extending my translucent hand to trace the line of his eyebrow, his eyelid. As if possessed by a sudden urge, I leaned down and brushed my lips against his. They were cold, utterly devoid of a living person’s warmth. We never got a proper goodbye when I was alive. Consider this my last, silent farewell. He seemed to sense something. His eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. Our gazes met. My ghostly form instantly froze. He… he saw me? His eyes were hazy, still clouded by alcohol. He looked in my direction and reached out a hand, as if trying to grasp something. “Elara…” My heart leaped into my throat. But the next second, his hand dropped, his head lolled, and he sank back into a deep sleep. A crushing wave of disappointment washed over me. It was just drunken ramblings. I sighed, settling down beside him. “Caleb, you know what? I regret it. If I’d known this would happen, on the day we broke up, I wouldn’t have been so stubborn. I would have held you, begged you not to leave.” “But it’s too late for anything now.” “You have to live well, for both of us. Find a good girl, get married, have adorable kids. Then, slowly, forget about me.” As I spoke, my ghostly form seemed to grow fainter. *Forget about me.* Those three words stung more than the thought of simply fading away.
The next day, Caleb was woken by his phone ringing. He rubbed his aching head, still battling a hangover, and answered, his voice hoarse, “Hello, Mom.” His mother said something on the other end, and he impatiently cut her off, “I know, I know, I’ll clean up.” After hanging up, he looked around, his brow furrowed so deeply, you could have squeezed a coin between them. He started resignedly cleaning the apartment. I floated beside him, giving directions. “Yep, that stinky sock? It’s trash time.” “Are you planning to collect these takeout boxes forever?” “Seriously? You missed a spot. Over here, there’s still a footprint.” I kept yammering on, not even realizing that Caleb’s actions were mirroring my words perfectly. If I said east, he wouldn’t go west. It wasn’t until he finished cleaning the place and collapsed on the couch that I realized. Something was off. This was too much of a coincidence. Were we really still so in sync? My heart fluttered with a strange joy. With the apartment clean, Caleb seemed to be in a slightly better mood. He turned and headed for the bathroom, apparently to shower. My eyes lit up, and I immediately followed. Heh, he never let me watch before, but now I was a ghost. How was he going to stop me? Suddenly, *wham*, the bathroom door slammed shut right in front of me. I slammed right into it, feeling my ghostly essence ripple from the impact. “What the heck? Is there a protective charm on the door?” I rubbed my non-existent nose, not giving up, and tried again. Still couldn’t get in. I could only lean against the door, listening to the sound of the shower and letting my imagination run wild. “Caleb, showering alone is so boring. Want me to scrub your back?” “Hey, say something. Are you shy?” No sound from inside, but the shower seemed to pause for a moment. I didn’t think much of it and continued to tease him, “Oh, is your back still okay? You used to complain about the pain all the time. No one to massage it for you now, huh?” Inside, the shower suddenly stopped.
A moment later, the door opened. Caleb emerged, wrapped in a towel, his hair still dripping, his face flushed with an unusual redness. He didn’t even glance in my direction, heading straight for the kitchen and yanking open the fridge. It was empty. He sighed, settling for a packet of instant noodles. Seeing him like that, my heart twisted. I was feeling weaker too, my ghostly form almost transparent. Even ghosts need to “eat,” and for us, that means absorbing the essence of offerings, like burning incense. But I’d only just died. My parents were distraught, and they wouldn’t have thought about making offerings yet. “Starving…” I mumbled, leaning on the table. “Someone burn me some food. I want fried chicken, the original recipe. Two servings.” Caleb’s hand, stirring his noodles, stopped. He froze, turning his head in my direction. His gaze was odd—was it tentative? Or… fear? I froze too. What was his deal now? But he said nothing, turning back to his noodles. After finishing his meal, he changed clothes, grabbed his car keys, and headed out. I quickly floated after him. I was getting weaker, feeling like I was about to dissipate if I didn’t get some sustenance. I had to stick with him. What if he went to see my parents? I could potentially ‘mooch’ some spiritual energy.
Caleb didn’t go to my parents. He drove aimlessly through the streets. The radio was playing *our* song, that old ballad we used to adore. “If I never knew you, never saw you…” The lyrics twisted a knife in my non-existent gut. I floated in the passenger seat, looking at his profile, my heart heavy. The car drove past a boutique hotel, the one where we’d spent our first night together. Instinctively, I blurted out, “Oh, this place is still around?” As soon as the words left me, I saw Caleb’s ears turn red. Wait, *what*? No way. Could he actually hear me? Must be a delusion, absolutely. I shook my head, trying to clear away the crazy thought. As I was lost in thought, the car stopped. I looked up, stunned. “Funeral Home & Cremation Services.” Dude, what are you doing here? Caleb walked into the store, his face expressionless, and spent a long time browsing the extensive selection of funeral supplies. Finally, he bought a pot of marigolds. Back home, he said nothing, just carefully placed the pot of marigolds on the living room coffee table. The beautiful flowers carried a fresh, clean scent. The scent hit me like an oasis in a desert, and I instinctively lunged towards it. I opened my mouth and greedily inhaled the fragrance of the marigolds. A warmth instantly flooded my entire being, solidifying my ethereal form. It was heavenly. A true feast for the spectral! I let out a satisfied, non-existent burp and looked at Caleb on the couch. He was holding his phone, staring at a picture. The girl in the photo, smiling brightly, was me. He took that picture when we went to the beach last year. He used to say I was the most beautiful view he’d ever seen. So, you still kept my photos. My heart ached, a painful swell of emotion. He looked at the picture, his fingers gently tracing my face, his eyes slowly reddening. “Elara…” He whispered my name, as if talking to the picture. “I miss you so much.” I floated over, wanting to hug him, but my hand, of course, passed right through him. Right. There was life and death separating us now.
The next day, I was woken by the ring of a phone. Caleb answered, his tone impatient. “Mom, I told you I’m not going!” “What do you mean I *have* to go? I’m thirty, I make my own decisions!” “Fine, fine, I’ll go, okay? Just send me the address.” He hung up, tossing his phone onto the couch in frustration. A date? My heart dropped. Of course. He was thirty; it was time for him to settle down. My mom used to constantly nag him, saying he’d end up a lonely old bachelor if he didn’t settle down soon. I even joked that when he got old, I’d push his wheelchair in the park, and we’d watch the retirees playing board games. But now, I wouldn’t even have the chance to grow old with him. Even though my heart was aching fiercely, seeing Caleb reluctantly rummage through his closet for clothes, I couldn’t help but float over to offer advice. Ugh, that one’s so drab. This one’s good, blue. It really suits your complexion. He actually picked up the blue shirt and held it against himself in the mirror. Then, he shaved, and styled his hair. Looking at the handsome man reflected in the mirror, my heart twisted. He was going to meet another girl looking like that. The thought made me want to cry. I followed him all the way to a coffee shop. The girl was already there. Long hair, white dress, two delicate dimples when she smiled. She was exactly the type I used to envy when I was alive—gentle and elegant. They sat together, looking truly compatible. I felt like a pathetic voyeur, hiding in the corner, watching them chat. The girl was quite talkative; Caleb said little, occasionally offering a perfunctory response. My heart slowly sank. Maybe he’d quickly fall for this girl. Then, they’d get married, have children. My name, Elara, would soon be a forgotten chapter in his life.
The date ended quickly. Less than half an hour, start to finish. Caleb saw the girl into her car, then returned to his own with an expressionless face. I couldn’t read him. Was he pleased, or not? The car didn’t head home but drove out to the suburbs. Finally, it stopped in front of a quiet, unassuming spiritual retreat. I followed him out of the car, but as I tried to step through the entrance, an invisible force bounced me back. A golden aura enveloped the entire retreat, like an invisible wall to me. I couldn’t get in. I could only watch as Caleb walked inside. I floated frantically outside the door. Why was he here? To seek guidance for his love life? At the thought of that possibility, my essence began to flicker, and the air around me noticeably chilled. I don’t know how long it was before Caleb finally came out. His face was even darker than before, radiating a heavy gloom, as if he’d just been in a brawl. He was clutching a small, yellowed paper charm. I didn’t dare get too close, just followed him from a distance. Back home, he taped the charm to his bedroom door. Then, without a word, he walked into his study and closed the door. My heart was racing, filled with dread. Was that charm meant to banish me? Did he go to that spiritual retreat to find Elder Finn and get rid of me? Did he really… hate me that much? Couldn’t even tolerate my ghost? A massive wave of panic and hurt washed over me. I curled up in the corner of the living room couch, feeling a chilling cold for the first time. It turned out that even after death, a heart could still ache.
I sat in the living room all night. The next day, Caleb finally emerged from his study. He had heavy bags under his eyes. When he saw me, his gaze flickered away, a complicated mix of emotions in his eyes. He said nothing, just lit another stick of incense. I hesitated, but couldn’t resist the lure of “food,” so I floated over and inhaled a couple of breaths. My strength returned somewhat, and the ache in my heart lessened. Can’t be sad on an empty stomach, right? I floated to his side, wanting to see what he was up to. “Caleb, what’s wrong with you? What’s that charm for? Are you trying to get rid of me?” He ignored me. A moment later, he got up and went into the bathroom. The sound of water began. My curiosity was reignited. Heh, that charm on the bedroom door keeps me out, but the bathroom should be fair game, right? I brazenly floated into the bathroom, ready for a private viewing of my ex in the shower. Instead, I was met with a tightly drawn shower curtain. I was fuming. Guarding against me like I was a thief! I floated around the shower curtain and suddenly glimpsed his discarded pajamas and… underwear. A pair of black boxer briefs. A mischievous idea popped into my head. I let out a little ‘hehe,’ floated over, and scooped up his pajamas and—yes—his underwear, clutching them to my chest. “That’s what you get for not letting me see! I’ve got your clothes, let’s see you come out naked now!” I hummed triumphantly, holding his garments, and floated to the door. Just as I was about to go out and show off my spoils, a man’s voice, laced with gritted-teeth irritation, suddenly came from behind the shower curtain. That voice, I knew it all too well. He said— “Elara, are you done messing around?” “Give me back my briefs.”
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