Chapter 150: The ghost in her inbox
The soft ping of my computer was nothing new. I'd become accustomed to it—Nathaniel's latest intrusion into the tenuous peace I was trying to create. His messages snuck in like uninvited ghosts, nagging at me long after I'd tried to chase them away. Today, though, the screen was heavy, the words more foreboding than ever before.
I read the subject line again: "Trying to say goodbye."
I did not want to open it. I did not want to feed the unease that had been crawling beneath my skin for days already. But curiosity—the part of me once entwined with his words—caused my fingers to betray me.
The email seeped out in fat, laden sentences, gorged with phony remorse and desperate longing.
Lily, I'm having trouble letting go. I know I hurt you, but there's no one who'll ever love you like me. I can't just destroy all that we had."
The words pressed against my chest in a vice, the familiar panic flickering to life, hesitant but insistent. The same conversation—his way of weaving guilt and love into a maddening knot. Only now, I didn't feel that stifling pull.
I closed my eyes and breathed out, trying to settle the wild thud of my heart. It was easier to face this if Caspian was here.
He was already in the kitchen, the warm scent of leather and coffee wrapping around me as I stepped inside. I stood there, the burn of the email branded behind my eyelids.
"Caspian," I said, my voice low and trembling. "Nathaniel emailed me again."
He lifted his head gradually. His jaw clenched, a raging storm behind calm eyes, but he never instructed me to keep it from him. He never did.
I sat facing him, computer open, the message burning back at me. I began to read aloud, my voice steadier than I had expected.
"I'm finding it hard to let go. No one will ever understand you like I do. Please, don't shut me out totally."
Caspian's eyes didn't waver. There was a ferocity in them—as if he was ready to fight for me a war that I don't have to be alone to survive. I looked up, praying to find the words to explain the knot chewing on me.
"I hate that he still has this. hold," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But it no longer terrifies me as it once had. Not when you're with me."
He reached over the table, his hands brushing against mine in a gentle, steadying caress. "You don't have to do it by yourself."
That simple assurance relaxed the constriction in my throat. I swallowed and met his eyes, the air between us thick but comforting.
"Should we respond?" I asked, though part of me already knew the response.
No, he answered harshly. "Not yet. We don't owe him anything. Not when he's playing games."
I nodded, the weight of his resolve crushing me like armor. For the first time, I was no longer just surviving Nathaniel's ghost—I was at the side of someone who wouldn't let me be haunted.
Caspian's hand around mine grew firm. "We'll deal with this. Together.".
His words were my lifeline. And I clung to them, letting the fierce, unrelenting love that we shared be the light that pushed back the shadows.
Chapter 126: The Ghost in Her Inbox
Lily's POV – Past Tense
The soft chime of my computer wasn't new. I'd become used to it—Nathaniel's latest breach of the fragile peace I was trying to create. His messages came like unwelcome ghosts, lingering in my mind far after I'd tried to chase them away. But today, the screen felt weightier, the words darker than before.
I stared at the title again: "Trying to say goodbye."
I did not wish to open it. I did not wish to indulge the restlessness that had been brewing under my skin for days already. But the curiosity—the part of me that once got tangled up in his words—betrayed my fingers.
The email flowed out in long, circuitous sentences, laden with contrived remorse and futile yearning.
"Lily, it's hard for me to let go. I know I did wrong to you, but nobody will ever understand you the way that I do. I can't just erase all the things we shared."
The words squeezed onto my chest like a vice, the familiar panic igniting, fragile but persistent. It was the same script—his way of blending guilt and love into quicksand. But this time, I didn't experience that frantic pull.
I shut my eyes and exhaled, trying to soothe the savage beat of my heart. This was easier to face with Caspian nearby.
He was standing in the kitchen already, the warm scent of leather and coffee swirling around me as I came in. I stopped, the burn of the email scorching behind my eyes.
"Caspian," I said, voice coarse and tremulous. "Nathaniel emailed me again."
His head rose slowly. His jaw clenched, a silent storm behind peaceful eyes, but he did not tell me to keep it in. He never did.
I sat in front of him, laptop on, the message glowering at me. I began to read out loud, my voice louder than I could have expected.
"I'm struggling to let go. Nobody will ever get you like I do. Please, don't shut me out completely."
Caspian's eyes did not move from mine. There was a fight there—like he was ready to fight a battle that I didn't need to fight alone. I stood my ground, hoping to find the words to explain the knot in my stomach.
"I hate the fact that he still has this. power," I admitted, voice almost silent. "But it no longer scares me. Not with you here."
He leaned forward over the table, fingers stroking mine in a gentle, centered touch. "You don't have to do it alone."
His words loosened the knot in my throat. I swallowed, hard, and met his gaze, the air between us thick but comforting.
"Do we respond?" I asked, though half of me already knew the response.
No, he said, firm. "Not yet. We owe him nothing. Not as long as he's playing games."
I nodded, the weight of his conviction coming down on me like armor. For the first time, I wasn't just surviving Nathaniel's ghost—I was standing with someone who wouldn't allow me to be haunted.
Caspian's hold on my hand tightened. "We'll do it. Together.".
Those were words of lifeline. And I held on to them, letting the fierce, ever-lasting love between us be the beacon that reflected back on the shadows.