It was the fifth year after my death. Ethan Lee, back home after eight years of peacekeeping duty overseas, had just stepped out of the airport terminal when I saw her—a young woman stopping him, handing him a small box. My ghostly form watched. “These were my sister’s things,” the girl said. “I think she would have wanted you to have them.” Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint, cynical smile playing on his lips. “If you’re returning things after a breakup, shouldn’t the person do it herself?” The girl froze, then tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. “My sister… she died. Five years ago.” 1 Instead of heading straight to his unit to report in, Ethan hailed a cab and gave the driver an address that sent a jolt through my spectral existence. “302 Oak Street.” That was the house I’d bought before… well, before. I drifted into the back seat with him. Three years earlier, Ethan, after five intense years in Yemen, had finally gotten approval for a short leave back home. I’d waited for him at the airport, wearing the same dress I wore when I first met him back in college. He was thinner, tanner, his features sharper, his gaze more intense. I ran to him, throwing my arms around him, hugging him so tight I could feel the rise and fall of his chest. I took him to 302 Oak Street. It was the house I’d poured all my savings into the moment I knew he was coming back. I stood on my toes, covering his eyes, wanting it to be a surprise. But his stifled chuckle ruined it. “You already knew?” I glared, confused. “Aren’t your friends my friends too?” He tossed his backpack onto the sofa, sat down, patted his lap, and pulled me onto his thighs. “I…” Whatever he was about to say got lost as I kissed him. That month or so flew by. We spent more time holed up together than going out. Even though I counted every single day, the month evaporated. I started to panic. So that night, I proposed to Ethan. I put on the white wedding dress I’d secretly bought, fussing with a slightly crooked veil. Moonlight streamed in as Ethan opened the door, bringing a chill from the night air with him. He stopped dead when he saw me. The coldness radiating off him made me shiver too. “I want to marry you,” I blurted out. “Then, legally, you’ll be mine.” I watched the familiar deep red slowly creep into his eyes – the eyes of the proud, cool guy who always seemed so detached from the world. Seeing him flustered like this, brought low by my proposal, gave me a secret thrill. He was mine now. Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my neck. His warm breath sent shivers down my spine. “Are you really sure about this?” His voice was the same deep, sensual rumble I remembered. I nodded hard. Later that night, he pulled me onto the bed… Afterward, he produced a card from somewhere. “This is everything I have. I should have given it to you the day I got back.” I took the card gleefully, clutching it like a treasure. We planned to go get the marriage license the very next day. But just as we arrived at the courthouse, my work phone—silent for the entire month—suddenly rang. Everyone at the station knew I was on leave. Why would they call? After hesitating for a long moment, I stepped aside to answer. My editor’s tone was off. He said there was a decision from management, something important, and I absolutely had to come back to the station right away. I looked over at Ethan, waiting patiently. We were next in line. The phone felt heavy in my hand. Finally, I walked back to him. “Ethan, something came up at work. I think… I might have to go back.” He glanced at the line. He didn’t say anything, just gave a slow, lazy smile. “Okay.” The drive back was silent. His leave was almost over. I stifled a sigh and took his hand. “Is your flight tomorrow?” He nodded. “Wait for me tonight.” He smiled and nodded again. He dropped me off in front of the TV station. I waved goodbye with all my might. If I had known then that it was the last time I’d ever see him in this life, I think I would have held onto him much, much longer. 2 The taxi stopped, pulling my consciousness back to the present. I watched Ethan walk into the familiar apartment building. The ding of the elevator button sent a tremor through my soul, a sense that something I deeply feared was about to happen. Ethan stood outside the door to 302 for a long time, his shoulders slumped, his eyes downcast. It was freezing out, but he only wore a thin black hoodie, standing motionless like an ice sculpture. Slowly, he pulled a key from his pocket. The handle was worn smooth, clearly turned over and over in his hand countless times. He was about to unlock the door. I shook my head frantically, voicelessly. “No, don’t! Don’t open it…” I reached out to stop him, but my hand passed straight through his body. I couldn’t stop him. My spectral eyes burned red with terror. But then, mercifully, he stopped. His left hand rested on the doorframe. After a long moment, he withdrew the key. He tossed it casually, and the small silver thing landed, glinting, in the crack under the door. Then, he turned and walked away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. A dull ache started behind my eyes, a desire to cry that produced no tears. A thick fog seemed to roll in around me, making the air feel even colder. I followed Ethan back to his base, a special forces unit. After reporting in, he went silently to his dorm room. He didn’t have much luggage. He unpacked a few toiletries from his duffel bag, arranging them methodically. Something small fell to the floor. I drifted closer to see. Ethan was faster. He bent down, picked it up, and tossed it carelessly into a drawer. But I saw it in that split second. It was a photograph. In it, he and I were laughing, bright smiles on our faces, Starlight Amusement Park blurred in the background. I remembered that day. It was during his leave three years ago. I’d dragged him there, and we’d taken that picture. Except… this copy was torn into pieces, crudely taped back together. I watched him fall back into his routine. Training day after day, a highly disciplined life. He seemed to get along well with his comrades, his personality even seeming a bit lighter than before. I managed a faint, ghostly smile. That was good. At least one of us should be happy. One afternoon, after training, the gate guard called out to Ethan. Someone was there to see him. It was the third time this month someone had come asking for him. Everyone shot him knowing glances; a few guys even let out suggestive “Ooohs.” Ethan wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel. This time, he didn’t refuse the visitor. When he reached the gate, the warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by chips of ice. His expression was deliberately casual. “I thought I made it clear. If things need returning, tell Ava to bring them herself.” He must have called me frantically back then, countless calls going unanswered. He must have been so confused, so hurt. He probably chose to believe me, believe in me. Believed something unavoidable had kept me away. Then, months later, he finally got a message from me. It was short, just a few words, but each one must have felt like a knife twisting deeper. We’re done. I’m getting married. He’d wanted to come back immediately, but his peacekeeping mission was entering a critical phase. The battlefield had no room for personal drama. After a brief respite, he threw himself back into the fighting, surviving several near-death encounters. If he’d possessed even a shred of warmth before, after that message, he became pure steel – a sharpened blade, a cold weapon, freezing anyone who got too close. The young woman at the gate stubbornly held the box out to him, her eyes brimming with tears. “My sister… she really can’t come.” A breeze rustled the leaves. Ethan let out a humorless chuckle. “Ava was always like that. Does whatever she wants, never considers anyone else. Same then, same now.” I frowned, but a part of me had to agree. Looking back, I really had been awful to him. But I didn’t have a choice back then, did I? A wave of self-pity washed over me. My sister shook her head, tears tracing paths down her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. You’ve misunderstood my sister.” “Whatever she has to say, she can tell me herself. I have to get back to training.” He turned to leave. My sister rushed after him, but her voice was drowned out by a sudden blare – the signal for assembly. Ethan’s stride faltered for half a second. Did he hear something? Died? What died? He glanced back. The girl still stood there, clutching the box, watching him. He hesitated, wanting to stop, but the insistent call of the bugle urged him forward. 3 My sister left. She went off to college far away. With only her left, Mom and Dad followed her, leaving the city behind. I stayed by Ethan’s side, day after day. Watched him sleep on schedule, wake on schedule. On his occasional days off, he’d hang out with his buddies. Lately, though, it seemed like he’d started seeing someone. The past few weekends, he’d spent his time with this new girl. A dull ache settled in my chest. “Ethan, I want cotton candy,” the girl murmured, leaning against his chest as they sat on a bench at Starlight Amusement Park. Her voice was soft and sweet. Ethan stared off into the distance, lost in thought. It wasn't until the girl prompted him a second time that he turned back, forcing a lazy smile. “Okay, I’ll go get some.” He walked over to the stand. “Two bunny-shaped cotton candies, please.” My dim, ghostly eyes lit up. Bunnies were my lucky charm; I had bunny things everywhere. He remembered! A wave of pure joy washed over me. But the next second, he changed his mind. “Actually, you know what? Just make them regular ones.” I let out a long, silent sigh. The girl ate her cotton candy, leaning comfortably against him. A bitter taste filled my non-existent mouth. The fog around me thickened, the air growing colder. The girl shivered, blowing on her hands. “It’s freezing.” I expected Ethan to offer her his jacket, but he just raised an eyebrow, his voice flat. “Let’s head back then.” A flicker of mean-spirited happiness sparked within me, immediately followed by guilt. Was I terrible for ruining his date? I followed him back to the base. It was already dark. Suddenly, my head swam, and something dark and red trickled down my forehead. I reached up—a ghostly hand covered in phantom blood. I paced frantically outside the bathroom door. Ethan had been in there for over an hour. Why wasn’t he coming out? A terrible premonition gripped me. I tried to push through the door, but I couldn’t! It was like hitting a solid wall. I beat against the door, a useless, frantic gesture. The world seemed eerily silent. The phantom blood flowed faster, coating me. In my panic and fear, my spectral hair seemed to lengthen wildly, my eyes burning red. The lights in the hallway flickered violently, casting eerie shadows. Someone noticed the strange lights and commotion, rushing towards Ethan’s room at top speed. But they didn’t check the bathroom! In desperation, I focused all my energy, and the lightbulb directly outside the bathroom door shattered with a pop. The soldiers nearby jumped, nearly crying out. But in the sudden quiet, they heard it – the faint, persistent sound of running water from inside the bathroom. When they finally forced the door open, they found Ethan collapsed on the floor, his face deathly pale. He was rushed to the hospital. The doctors diagnosed it as complications from old injuries – internal pressure causing him to pass out. I hovered over his hospital bed, watching him sleep. His face was still the same one I remembered, but his body… scars, large and small, littered his skin. It hurt just looking at them, a deep ache that made me wish I could take his pain onto myself. The wind howled outside. I stood beside him, tracing the lines of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose with an intangible finger. He frowned in his sleep. I sighed again. “Not even peaceful in your dreams, huh? Maybe I should stay away. Maybe if I left, you wouldn’t have such bad luck.” I watched over him for two days and three nights. On the third day, a crowd of his buddies came to visit, hearing he was awake. One of them held a box. “This came for you at the mailroom this morning. Figured I’d bring it over.” The guys started teasing him, but Ethan just tossed the box aside without looking at it. It landed haphazardly under the bed. He stayed in the hospital for three days. As he was leaving, he walked out the door without a backward glance. A young nurse hurried after him, pressing the box back into his hands. Ethan gave a small, humorless smile. He got on the bus, and then, as if finally making a decision, he opened the box. Inside, there wasn’t much. A few notebooks, a couple of small jars, and a letter. He opened one of the notebooks. The first few pages were filled with my notes from college classes. But further in, the subject slowly shifted to him. Page after page detailed the small moments we shared. Our first university welcome party together, the first time our eyes met, the first time we skipped class to see a movie, the first time we got drunk together, the first concert, rescuing that stray kitten, dreaming about the future together… “Ethan, what do you want to do after graduation?” We were lying on the grass in our caps and gowns, looking up at the bright blue sky. He held my hand, his voice quiet but firm. “I want to join the peacekeeping forces. Follow in my father’s footsteps.” My eyes shone. “And I want to be a journalist,” I’d added. “We’ll both be doing something good for people.” Wind gusted through the open bus window, flipping the pages in his hands. “I was supposed to get the license with you. Why did work have to call right then? Ethan, I miss you so much. You better not be looking at other girls, not even a glance. Wait for me, okay?…” Beside the text, I’d drawn a little cartoon of a stern-faced guy with a buzz cut. “Ethan, I have to go soon. You didn’t answer my calls. Are things really busy over there? Remember to eat properly and dress warmly.” “…” It seemed like I was rushed towards the end. The entries got shorter, more fragmented. The last one was just a single sentence. “The station gave me the assignment. I have to go to the border zone. Ethan, if I make it back alive, I swear I’ll hunt you down and marry you. If I die… this stuff is yours.” The date was the day after he had left, three years ago.
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