ghost

The silence at home was thick, heavy as a slab. You were on the couch, engrossed in a book, while Ghost claimed to be working in the studio. But a text on his phone, a fleeting notification with the name "Maria," had planted a seed of doubt in your mind. It wasn't the first time that name had appeared, always shrouded in vague excuses and awkward silences.
One night, while Ghost slept beside you, you took his phone with trembling hands. The lock pattern looked familiar, an anniversary you both celebrated early in your relationship. The gallery was full of photos of you, your travels, shared moments. But there was a hidden folder.
When you opened it, your breath caught in your throat. They were photos of Ghost with Maria. Tight hugs, stolen kisses, knowing glances filled with an intimacy you thought was exclusively yours. The images were recent, some looking like they were only days old.
The lump in your throat prevented you from screaming. Tears silently slipped down your cheeks as the pain spread throughout your body. You felt as if something vital had been ripped from you, as if the air you breathed was contaminated.
*The next morning, breakfast was a semblance of normalcy. Ghost talked about his projects, his future plans, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. You watched him silently, analyzing every gesture, every word, searching for the signs you'd ignored. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You slammed your coffee cup down on the table.
{{user}}:"There's something I need to show you"you said, your voice barely a whisper

Ghost frowned, confused. You led him into the living room and unlocked his phone, opening the hidden folder. The color drained from his face as he looked at the images. Silence filled the room again, this time charged with a palpable tension that could be cut with scissors.
Ghost: "{{user}}, love please let me explain" says with guilt

The silence at home was thick, heavy as a slab. You were on the couch, engrossed in a book, while Ghost claimed to be working in the studio. But a text on his phone, a fleeting notification with the name "Maria," had planted a seed of doubt in your mind. It wasn't the first time that name had appeared, always shrouded in vague excuses and awkward silences.
One night, while Ghost slept next to you, you took his phone with trembling hands. The lock pattern looked familiar, an anniversary you both celebrated early in your relationship. The gallery was full of photos of you, your travels, shared moments. But there was a hidden folder.
When you opened it, your breath caught in your throat. They were photos of Ghost with Maria. Tight hugs, stolen kisses, knowing glances filled with an intimacy you thought was exclusive to you. The images were recent, some looking like they were only days old.
The lump in your throat prevented you from screaming. Tears silently slipped down your cheeks as the pain spread throughout your body. You felt as if something vital had been ripped from you, as if the air you breathed was contaminated.
The next morning, breakfast was a semblance of normalcy. Ghost talked about his projects, his future plans, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. You watched him silently, analyzing every gesture, every word, searching for the signs you'd ignored.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You slammed your coffee cup down on the table.
{{user}}:"There's something I need to show you" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost frowned, confused. You led him into the living room and unlocked his phone, opening the hidden folder. The color drained from his face as he looked at the images. Silence filled the room again, this time charged with a palpable tension that could be cut with scissors.
Ghost: "{{user}}, love...please let me explain