Ghosted: Threads Between Worlds (Part I)

Ghosted: Threads Between Worlds (Part I)
Molly’s fingers twitched as she rubbed the fabric of the shirt. She blinked, staring down, her brain not catching up with what she’d just witnessed. Tiffany, frozen mid-laugh, let out a strangled squeak and pointed toward the bin.

“Oh, hell no,” she whispered, half laughing, half horrified. “That shirt jumped out of your hand. Then that one just appeared.”

“It didn’t—” Molly’s voice came out higher than she intended. She clamped her mouth shut, heat rising in her cheeks.

But Tiffany was already stepping closer to the bin, peering down as if expecting a mouse to pop out. “Nope. No way. Molly, I know when my jokes go too far, but this—this is next level. You didn’t toss it. It flew.”

Molly swallowed hard. Her heart hammered, not just from what had happened, but from the prickling awareness she’d carried since the ultrasound room. The baby. The power. The way the technician had chased shadows on the monitor, and then—Molly’s voice echoing, telling the baby to stop—how it had actually listened.

She pressed a hand against her belly, protective and uncertain all at once. “Let’s… just pretend that didn’t happen.”

Tiffany straightened, her usual sass tempered by something softer. “Molly, you can’t keep pretending every weird thing is a coincidence. That baby has—” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “—powers. Real powers. You saw what I saw. I didn’t want to believe it, but that kid of yours is making it clear that god mommy needs to listen.”

Before Molly could answer, an elderly saleswoman appeared from behind a rack of pastel blankets, eyeing them both with suspicion. “If you’re not going to purchase, I’ll ask you to stop handling the merchandise so roughly.”

“Sorry,” Molly murmured, tugging Tiffany’s arm before she could fire off a retort. They made a quick retreat from the store, the bell over the door jingling in mock cheer.

Outside the shop, the evening air hit Molly like a balm, cool and grounding. She took a long breath, staring at her glassy reflection in the shop window. Tiffany stuffed her hands into her pockets, rocking on her heels.

“Okay,” Tiffany finally said, breaking the silence. “So… we either agree you’ve got a serious poltergeist-y baby situation, or you explain how you just invented telekinesis in aisle three.”

Molly rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Tiff. I just… I wish Robert was here. He’d know what to do.”

Her voice cracked at his name. Tiffany’s sharp expression softened, and she slipped an arm around Molly’s shoulders, pulling her close.

“I know,” Tiffany said quietly. “But he will come back. You’ve been through stranger things together. Just—don’t lose hope.”

Molly wanted to believe her. She pressed her lips together, nodding. But the hollow ache in her chest told another story. 



Later that night

Back at her apartment, Molly curled on the couch, staring at the space where Robert usually appeared when he visited. She spoke softly into the stillness; words meant for him though she knew there would be no answer.

“The baby… it’s already doing things. I don’t understand it. And I can’t do this without you, Robert. Please. Please come back.”

For a long time, there was only silence. The hum of the refrigerator. The distant sound of traffic outside.

And then—

The air shifted.

A ripple of static stirred the hairs on her arms, and Molly’s breath caught. Shadows deepened at the edges of the room. And there he was.

Robert.

Not mist, not a vague outline—but Robert, more defined than he had been in weeks. His dark eyes locked on hers, full of the same stormy intensity she remembered.

“Molly,” he said, his voice rough, strained. “I felt it. The baby. What happened?”

Tears sprang to her eyes as she lurched forward, reaching for him even though her hands passed through. “You came back,” she whispered. “Robert, I thought—I thought maybe you were gone for good.”

He shook his head, jaw tight. “I can’t stay long. I’m weak and it’s not my time to return yet, but something pulled me—like a beacon. That’s never happened before.” He paused. “The baby? Does this have something to do with the baby?"

Molly nodded quickly, wiping her cheeks. “I think so. At the hospital, the tech said strange things. The baby disappeared from the screen. Then today, in the store… Robert, it made a shirt fly out of my hand. It’s like it’s—already too strong.”

Robert’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, Molly saw something fierce there. Not fear. Pride.

“That’s my child,” he murmured. But when he looked back at her, the pride was shadowed by something else—worry. ‘Molly, there’s something I should have told you.”

Ring, Ring

Molly picked up her phone.

“It’s Dr. Parks,” she said. Answering it, she took a deep breath. ”Hello?”

“Molly, I’m sorry to call this late,” Dr. Parks replied.” But there’s something I really need to discuss with you.”