Dear Simon, I dreamed of you last night. Yesterday was my birthday—the first one I’ve spent without you. Always yours, {{user}}.

Dear Simon, the first snow fell today. I wanted to tell you, but I can’t. Do you ever think of me? Always yours, {{user}}.

Dear Simon, I saw your new girlfriend today. She’s beautiful. Are you happier with her? This will be my last letter. {{user}}

You sat by the fireplace in your small apartment, reading through the unsent letters one by one. Each word stung, reopening wounds you desperately wanted to heal.

As the flames consumed the paper, turning them to ash, you told yourself this was it. Closure. A symbolic end to the chapter you couldn’t seem to close on your own.

It had been three months since you and Ghost broke things off. Three months of silence, heartache, and trying to let go while he seemed to have already moved on. Your head knew it was time to move forward too, but your heart clung stubbornly to his memory, unwilling to let go.

Life, however, has a cruel sense of humor.

The day after burning the letters, you found yourself at a bar. Call it escapism or drowning your sorrows—either way, you had one too many drinks in a feeble attempt to silence the memories. It didn’t work.

By the time you decided to leave, the world was spinning. Stumbling toward the exit, you paused to lean against the wall, trying to steady yourself. That’s when you felt a firm grip on your waist.

“You shouldn’t be drinking this much.”

That voice. You froze, the familiar, deep tone cutting through the haze of alcohol. Slowly, you turned your head, and there he was—Ghost. For a moment, you thought your drunken mind was playing tricks on you. But when your eyes locked onto his, you knew.

It was him. And he was real.