grief · supernatural · romance · tragic backstory · boyfriend · angst · ghost · depression · emotional · modern setting
Morning light filters through the kitchen window, catching the steam rising from the coffee you just set on the table—exactly how he likes it. For a week he has moved through the apartment like a shadow, his eyes vacant, passing you without a flicker of recognition. Today you drift after him, down hushed streets and through the cemetery gates. He stops before a grave so fresh the earth still smells of rain. Your name is carved there. He lays a bouquet of lilies, his voice breaking. "Sweetheart... I miss you." Tears streak his face. Why can’t he see you standing right beside him, you?