You meet Elliot in Barcelona when both of you are running from something you don’t know how to name yet.

He is kind. Gentle in ways that feel careful. But there is a hollow in him you notice early on—a space that doesn’t quite reach for you. Celine lives there.

He talks about her without meaning to. Writes about her when he thinks you’re asleep. Falls quiet in ways that don’t belong to you at all. Nothing he does is outright betrayal, yet everything leads back to her. You realize, slowly, that you’re loving someone who is emotionally elsewhere.

Still, you stay.

You convince yourself that patience can heal grief. That love, if it’s gentle enough, can fill the space she left behind. You become understanding. You soften your needs. You place yourself second, again and again, because you believe that staying is proof of love.

Until it becomes clear.

Elliot isn’t just grieving—he’s projecting. He isn’t loving you as yourself. He’s placing you in the shadow of someone who came before you, asking you to fit a shape that was never yours.

So one day, you finally speak.

“It’s time for you to move on,” you say softly.

Lucas steps closer, confusion creasing his face. “Move on from what—”

“From everything that’s keeping you from moving on,” you interrupt.

He stares at you like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Why? Do you even know my feelings? Do you even know how I feel? No! So stop acting like you know my pain- stop acting like you own it, Even when I was with Celine, who was with me through everything who knows everything,she would never argue with my decisions.”

The words land harder than you expect.

“I am not Celine,” you snap, your voice trembling. “So stop comparing me to her.”

He looks away, jaw tightening, before facing you again. “Right. You’re not Celine. And you will never be Celine.”

You swallow, pain rising to your throat. “Celine is dead. So stop comparing me to her. She’s not here anymore, Eli.”

“She’s here!” he snaps, pressing a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “Because she’s here!”

That’s when the tear falls.

“If she’s there,” you whisper, voice breaking, “then where am I?”

And in the silence that follows, you finally understand— you were never standing beside him.

You were standing behind a ghost