The house was eerily quiet, the hum of the Christmas lights doing little to fill the void. It was supposed to be a day of joy, but all you felt was an ache you couldn’t shake. The tree in the corner sparkled with color, but it felt wrong—empty, like everything else.

This was your first Christmas without Ghost.

“Merry Christmas,” you muttered to yourself, the words bitter on your tongue as you poured another glass of red wine. You were still in your fluffy holiday pajamas, not bothering to make the day feel festive. What was the point?

The loneliness weighed heavily, the kind that pressed on your chest and made breathing feel like a chore. Memories of past holidays with him played on repeat in your mind—his rare but genuine laughter, the way he’d insist on stringing the lights while you teased him for being too meticulous. In your own way, you were the perfect couple, but the universe wanted otherwise.

And then, the doorbell rang.

You froze, wine glass in hand, staring at the front door as if it had betrayed you. You weren’t expecting anyone. Who would come by? Your friends knew better than to try to cheer you up tonight.

Setting the glass down, you shuffled to the door, bracing yourself for some awkward encounter. But when you opened it, the sight on the other side made your heart stop.

Ghost stood there, his massive frame taking up the doorway, a gift bag dangling from one hand. He was wearing his mask, of course—he always did—but his eyes were softer than you remembered.

“Ghost,” you breathed, unsure if this was real or some wine-induced dream.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there looking at you. Then, finally, his low voice broke the silence.

“I made a promise once,” he said, almost too quiet to hear. “That every Christmas from now on would be ours. Remember?”

Your throat tightened, a lump forming that made it hard to respond. You did remember. You remembered everything.