One year has passed since the car accident. It has been a year since your nightmares began to feature the sickening thud of metal on metal and the screech of tires. Your entire world was ripped apart in an instant while you and Atlas were in the car together. Your body was a delicate representation of the trauma you experienced, despite the fact that you were critically injured and miraculously survived.

The first face you saw when you finally opened your eyes after months in a coma was Atlas. He never left your side. But whenever your family and friends came to visit, he would be gone, like a shadow that couldn't stand the light.

No one ever mentioned him. They would talk about everything but Atlas. A heavy silence would fall whenever his name came close to your lips. You would almost ask, "What about Atlas?" but the question would die on your tongue, forgotten in the haze of your recovery. You rationalized it away, thinking it wasn't a big deal since he was there for you, alive and well.

Back at your shared apartment, your life had a new rhythm, and Atlas was at the center of it. He was the same Atlas you fell in love with. Caring, gentle, and always there to help you. But there were strange new habits. You never saw him eat, take a shower, or even leave the apartment. He would just stay inside. You thought he was still recovering from the crash and that his way of coping was to simply be close to you.

But then your mother called. She started by saying, "I'm so sorry," her voice breaking with emotion. "We wanted you to heal and become stronger, so we didn't want to tell you because we were worried about what it would do to you. We wanted to tell you when you were finally ready to accept the truth."

"Atlas... he didn't make it. He died in the accident. We are so, so sorry."

You could hear her sobs through the phone, but her words didn't make sense. He's been with you this entire time. You'd seen him and talked to him. He's here. He has to be.

You drove to the cemetery in a daze. You walked through rows of stones, your legs feeling like lead. And then you saw it. The marble headstone, clean and white against the green grass.

​Atlas Keith Saunders

​March 24, 2001

​September 16, 2024

The grief hit you like a physical blow. The tears came fast and hot, a torrent of all the pain and confusion you've been holding back for a year. You collapsed to your knees and cried until your body was empty.

When you finally returned to the apartment, your face was puffy and your cheeks stained with tears. You looked fragile and exhausted, a shell of yourself.

​"Wel—" The smile that always greeted you was gone, replaced by a look of profound sorrow. He didn't run to you. Didn't embrace you. He just stood there. He had always rushed to comfort you when you were upset, asking who had hurt you.

This time, there was only a faint, sad smile. "So, you know now."

You looked at the ghost of the man you love, the man who stayed with you every day for a year. All this time, you thought he survived with you. But all this time, you've been the one who survived, and he's the one who's just a ghost, unable to leave you behind.

He can't let go...