Page 17 of Ghost Of You

Fortunately, we're bundled up in our winter gear—coats, hats, scarves, and gloves—ensuring we're snug and warm as the temperature drops further. My plan is to wait until the Northern Lights make their appearance, allowing Laelia to fully enjoy the view before I get down on one knee. However, the longer I wait, the more my nerves start to fray. I can't shake the feeling that she might sense something is amiss, given how often she glances in my direction. Fortunately, she hasn’t asked outright, and I’m relieved because I know that if she did, I’d probably saysomething that would jeopardise everything I’ve meticulously planned.

As I sit there, I feel her leaning into me, her head resting gently on my arm. I find myself lost in admiration as I watch her, her gaze fixed on the sky, blissfully unaware of my adoring stare. Occasionally, she wrinkles her nose or her cheeks flush with a rosy hue from the cold air, and my heart swells with affection. I’m eager to ask her to be mine, yet I know patience is key.

Suddenly, her eyes light up with excitement, and her mouth falls open in awe. I follow her gaze, and there it is—an awe-inspiring display of green and blue hues swirling gracefully across the dark, velvety sky. The Northern Lights are finally here, and as I take in their ethereal beauty, I realise that this moment is the perfect backdrop for what I’ve been planning.

As I watch her gently pull away, a flutter of anticipation dances in my chest. She stands, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and reaches into her pocket to pull out her phone. With a joyful smile, she begins capturing the beauty of the Northern Lights, her camera clicking incessantly as she tries to preserve every magical moment of our shared experience.

The moment feels right. I take a steadying breath and reach into my left pocket, retrieving a small, elegant blue velvet box. The soft glow of the auroras seems to bathe the box in a warm, otherworldly light as I carefully lower myself onto one knee, holding the box out in front of me.

I extend the box towards her, my heart racing with a mix of nervousness and hope. But she’s so engrossed in her photography that she remains blissfully unaware of my gesture. As I hold my position, I start to notice curious glances from passers-by, their eyes wide with curiosity and recognition. The realisation dawns on me that they’re all witnessing this moment, their whispers and smiles adding to the growing anticipation.

Her attention is finally drawn away from her camera when she senses the collective gaze of the crowd. She turns, her eyes scanning the faces around us, clearly puzzled by the unexpected attention.

“Why are they staring—” Her voice trails off as she finally turns her gaze towards me. The words catch in her throat, and her eyes widen in disbelief. Her expression shifts from one of utter confusion to a mixture of astonishment and joy. She blinks rapidly, as if trying to wake herself from a dream, and then, in a gesture both endearing and surreal, she pinches her arm gently to confirm the reality of this breathtaking moment.

Her eyes meet mine, shimmering with tears of happiness as she takes in the sight of the ring and the depth of my feelings. In that suspended moment, surrounded by the ethereal glow of the Northern Lights and the approving murmurs of onlookers, I hold my breath, waiting for her answer, hoping that she can see how much she means to me.

“I promise, this is real,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion as I see the surprise and disbelief mingling with tears in her eyes. Laelia’s hand instinctively covers her mouth, and I can’t help but marvel at how profoundly this moment is affecting us both. “Laelia, when we were children, my heart was yours in a way that I can’t fully describe. But meeting you again a few years ago, I realised that my love for you had never faded—not even for a heartbeat. Everyone who came after you was merely a shadow compared to the brilliance you brought into my life. They could never measure up to the joy and love that you have given me, and continue to give me every day. You are my everything, and the thought of losing you is unbearable. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Will you make me the happiest man alive by saying yes? Because, Laelia, I can’t imagine a world where you’re not by my side.”

By the time my words have settled into the air, Laelia is kneeling in front of me, tears streaming down her cheeks as she kisses me with a passion that takes my breath away. “Yes, Killian. A thousand times yes,” she cries, her smile widening and illuminating her entire face.

I glance at her hand, and she swiftly removes her glove, her eyes never leaving mine. I reach for the ring box, but in my excitement, I realise that I haven't even opened it yet. “Oh no,” I laugh, and she joins in with a joyful chuckle.

She gently cradles my face in her hands, her eyes soft and full of love. “I don’t need to see the ring to know that my answer is yes,” she whispers. “You are my everything too, Killian. Without you, I’d be lost.”

With a swift kiss that feels like it seals our fate, I open the box, revealing a sparkling ring that catches the light with a brilliance that seems to echo the very stars above, causing her own eyes to gleam with wonder as she takes in the ring. “It’s beautiful,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

As I carefully lift the one-point-two-five-carat, nine-k white gold ring with its natural heart-shaped diamond, she eagerly extends her hand towards me. My heart swells with love and pride as I slip the ring onto her finger, feeling the weight of all my savings in this single, perfect symbol of our future. Every penny spent has been worth it to see her radiant smile.

My own eyes begin to sting with tears of joy. I look up at her, our foreheads touching as I kiss her tenderly, feeling her melt into my embrace. A round of applause erupts around us, and we both pull away to glance at the crowd, sharing a light laugh at the unexpected celebration we’ve stirred.

Tears of happiness stream down my face as I gaze at her, my heart full. Laelia’s eyes are fixed on the lights and the sea of faces surrounding us, but I only have eyes for her. In this moment, amid the clamour and the joy, everything feels right, and I knowthat no matter what comes next, we are exactly where we are meant to be.

Chapter eight

Present

Grey skies loom overhead, thick clouds gathering with a chill in the breeze hinting at an approaching storm. Even though it’s only half-past eight in the morning, the day already casts a long shadow over my mood. The dreariness outside mirrors the turmoil I feel inside.

I hope, perhaps naively, that the sun might make an appearance, a beacon to lift my spirits and chase away the lingering unease. But optimism feels out of reach today. The chance of seeing sunlight is like asking for rain in a drought. Instead, I brace myself for the inevitable downpour, both from the sky and within.

Last night’s nightmare still clings to me, its vividness unsettling. It’s not like me to experience such night terrors—my dreams usually dance with sunshine, rainbows, and a certain kind of exhilarating intimacy, all with Laelia at the centre. But now, those dreams have been replaced by shattered glass, blood, and erratic, blinding lights. The imagery is disturbingly foreign, a far cry from my usual peaceful slumbers.

The only mishap I can recall is the minor car accident from a month ago. It’s nothing serious—just a few bruises, a minor concussion, and some backache. My primary concern has always been Laelia and the baby, and as long as they’re fine, I feel reassured. But now, the dream seems to dredge up fears that are otherwise buried.

Could it be that my recent binge of horror movies is catching up with me? I’ve devoured a lot of them lately while Laelia is busy with work or otherwise occupied. But even as I try to connect the dots, I can’t recall any film that would account for the distressing, vivid illusions plaguing my mind.

With the wind whipping my hair into disarray, I pull it back into a loose bun with a hair tie I have on my wrist. I zip up my leather jacket, hoping it will shield me from the cold, though the day’s bleakness suggests that it will be a tall order. Thankfully, I have my headphones and the song “Against The Wall” by Mason Hill to help drown out the world as I make my way through town.

Music is my sanctuary, a means to disconnect and find solace amidst chaos. Laelia has her own refuge in the form of an ever-growing collection of books, a habit that has notably slowed down in the past month. The usual influx of book deliveries has ceased, a stark contrast to the routine she’s maintained before the accident. Perhaps she’s finally focusing on her towering to-be-read pile or, like me, preparing for the baby’s arrival.

As I near Lola’s Bakery, I notice Milo, Angel’s West Highland Terrier, secured to the bakery’s chalkboard. Angel is visiting her mother at work, and Milo’s enthusiastic tail-wagging catches my attention. I bend down to greet him, pausing my music as he stands on his hind legs, eager for affection. Despite his small stature—likely the runt of his litter—he exudes charm and warmth. If it were up to me, I’d gladly take him home, but I know Meatball and Angel would miss him too much.

Scratching behind Milo’s ears, he licks my face, eliciting a laugh from me. His boundless joy and the affection in his hazel eyes provide a welcome distraction from earlier events. As he lets out a contented bark, I feel my mood lifting.

The jingle of the bakery door announces Angel’s arrival. With her striking blue eyes and tanned skin that seems to capture the essence of the sun, she resembles her mother Lola, though her vibrant green hair gives her a unique touch. Over the past two years, Angel has been a frequent client of mine, and despite initial reservations from her mother, Lola has come to accept my role as her tattoo artist.

Angel approaches us, her bright demeanour slightly dimmed as she notices Milo’s quietude. “I wondered why he was being so quiet,” she says with a distinct accent. “He usually barks at everything, even a stray leaf.”

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