Page 44 of The Ghost


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It was him.

It was the press of Silas’s body against mine, the rough heat of his hands on my waist. It was the way he looked at me in that guest suite like he didn’t care about rules or logic or timing. Likehe saw every part of me—every sharp angle and every bruised shadow—and wanted it, anyway.

And now he was gone.

No explanation. No apology.

Just silence.

I blinked hard, trying to focus on the screen, but the words blurred. The music kept playing.

Don’t ask me to stay away

Don’t tell me it’s not the day

I’ve waited lifetimes to find this fight

And I’m not walking away tonight

Something in me cracked.

Not a sob. Not a wail.

Just this quiet, shattering sound in the middle of my chest. A breath caught in my throat and refused to leave.

My hands clenched around the edge of the tablet, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I wanted to cry.

Because I’d made a career out of other people’s love stories.

Out of vows and veils and fairytale endings.

But in that moment, I felt like the girl who never got picked.

Who planned the parties but never got invited to the dance.

Who could orchestrate a hundred declarations of love, but couldn’t ask one man to stay.

And worse—didn’t even know if he wanted to.

I stood too fast, the tablet sliding from my lap, music still playing as it hit the floor.

I walked to the window, pressed my palm to the glass. Outside, the street was nearly empty. The city breathing slow and quiet beneath a blanket of dusk. The kind of hour meant for reflection, or regret.

And maybe that’s what this was.

Maybe I was finally starting to feel the cost of a life lived on my own terms.

I had power. Control. A business people envied.

But I didn’t have him. And I didn’t know if I ever would.

“Portia?”

The voice was low. Careful.

I didn’t turn around.

The glass was cool beneath my palm, but not cool enough to stop the burn in my chest. Not enough to erase the ache building behind my eyes. The song had ended, silence swallowing its final note like it had never existed, but the echo of it still pulsed through me like phantom pain.