The Ghost Of You

The stacks of case files on Gwenevere’s desk were high enough to block half her office window.

But they still couldn’t hide the sky.

Outside, the Lusaka skyline had turned a bruised shade of grey. The storm clouds hung low over the city, looking heavy and restless.

It was time to knock off, and downstairs, the usual Friday rush had already started. Elevators chimed nonstop while voices and laughter echoed faintly through the corridors as people hurried toward the weekend.

Gwen stayed glued to her chair, fingers moving quickly across her keyboard.

For the past two years, this was how she survived.

If her mind stayed crowded with contracts, deadlines, and compliance reports, there was no room left for anything else.

Then her office door burst open without warning.

“If you don’t shut that laptop right now, I’ll do it for you myself,” Chisanga announced.

Her bright red lipstick matched her loud energy perfectly. Her handbag was already hanging off one shoulder, and her car keys spinning around her finger.

“It’s Friday,” she continued dramatically. “You have a date with a massive glass of wine.”

Gwen rubbed her temples without looking up.

“Chisanga, I really need to finish this compliance report for Monday. And have you seen the sky?” She turned toward the window. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Exactly,” Chisanga said, walking around the desk. “Which means Great East Road is about to become a parking lot.”

Before Gwen could protest, Chisanga leaned over and hit the escape key on her laptop.

“Hey!”

“You promised me last week we’d get drinks,” Chisanga reminded her. “No backing out this time. You need to live a little.”

Gwen hesitated.

The sight of those dark storm clouds brought a familiar tightness back into her chest almost immediately.

The rain always did that.

Part of her wanted to go straight home, lock herself inside her apartment, and wait for the storm to pass alone.

But Chisanga was standing there looking determined enough to physically drag her out of the building if necessary.

And honestly, Gwen was tired of being the woman everyone worried about.

“Fine,” she sighed at last, shutting her laptop. “Give me two minutes.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Chisanga grinned victoriously as she headed for the door.

“Oh, and by the way,” she added casually, “I already texted Mutinta. She’s meeting us there.”

Gwen laughed despite herself as she grabbed her coat.

“Of course she is. You two together make a dangerous combination.”

Gwen’s laugh faded as she grabbed her coat.

And when they stepped outside, the city had already changed its tone.

---

By the time they reached the lounge, Lusaka nightlife was already in full swing.

The parking lot was packed with cars, and music pulsed through the walls hard enough to vibrate beneath Gwen’s heels. Near the entrance, groups of people huddled together laughing loudly while others rushed inside to escape the threatening weather.

Inside, the atmosphere was loud, crowded, and alive.

Blue and purple lights flashed over the packed dance floor while Afro-beats shook the room.

“Over here!”

Mutinta waved frantically from a plush booth near the centre.

The table was already overflowing with sizzling food and ice-cold drinks.

“You actually made it!” Mutinta shouted happily the second Gwen reached the table.

She pulled her into a tight hug before immediately shoving a drink into her hand.

“Cheers, to you coming out for a drink,” Mutinta declared.

“Cheers!” Chisanga added, clinking her glass against theirs.

Gwen took a long sip.

The sweet alcohol burned pleasantly down her throat.

From across the table, she caught the brief knowing look that passed between Mutinta and Chisanga.

They were trying to get her to have fun.

For two years, they had watched her move through life like someone functioning on autopilot.

Tonight, they were determined to pull her out of it.

And for a while, it worked.

The drinks kept coming, the food disappeared quickly, and little by little, the tension left Gwen’s shoulders.

They gossiped about work, complained about clients, and laughed over office drama.

Then, a heavy Afro-beats track blasted through the speakers.

Mutinta grabbed Gwen’s wrist instantly.

“Dance floor. Now.”

Before Gwen could refuse, they pulled her into the crowd.

The heat, the flashing lights, and the bass vibrating through her chest. It all felt strangely free.

For the first time in a long time, Gwen felt herself feeling free.

She even laughed when Chisanga attempted a ridiculous dance move that nearly sent them into another group.

But the good mood didn’t last.

A strobe light flashed, casting a sudden, sharp shadow across a stranger’s face nearby. The angle of his jaw, the way he tilted his head. It was an instant trigger.

A sudden, violent memory flashed in her mind.

The room suddenly felt suffocatingly hot. The music was too loud. The lights were too aggressive. The illusion of being okay shattered, leaving her frozen in the middle of the dancing crowd.

“Gwen? Are you okay?” Mutinta asked, her protective instincts kicking in immediately.

“Yeah, yes,” Gwen lied, trying to catch her breath. “The alcohol is just hitting me a bit. I need some fresh air.”

Chisanga stepped forward. “We’ll come with you—”

“No, it’s fine!” Gwen insisted, forcing a reassuring smile. “I promise, I just need two minutes of quiet outside.”

Before they could argue, Gwen slipped past them and pushed open the heavy glass doors to the outdoor terrace.

Before they could argue, Gwen slipped past them and pushed open the heavy glass doors to the outdoor terrace.

The night air was a blessing cool, crisp, and smelling of rain. The storm hadn’t started yet, but the wind was picking up.

Gwen walked over to the railing, gripping the cold metal to steady her dizziness. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Why am I still like this?” she whispered fiercely to herself. “Two years. It’s been two entire years. Why am I still looking for him everywhere?”

The realization hit her hard. Tonight, she hadn’t stayed late at the office to finish files; she was outside to avoid the rain and the way it affected her. Because the rain belonged to him.

Wiping her face roughly, Gwen decided she’d had enough. She needed to go back inside, get her friends, and go home.

She turned around quickly, her vision slightly fuzzy, and slammed directly into a solid chest.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Gwen stammered, stumbling backwards. Her heel caught on the concrete, but a firm hand caught her upper arm, steadying her.

“Careful there,” a man’s voice said. He sounded polite, but she couldn’t see his face clearly in the dim shadows.

“I’m fine, sorry. Just lost my balance,” Gwen muttered, her heart racing.

The man nodded, letting go of her arm as he looked past her shoulder.

“There you are. I thought you got lost inside.”

She heard another voice. This one was deep, and so she turned to see, who possessed such a voice.

Another man was standing by the doorway, walking towards them. As he moved from the shadows into the amber light of the terrace, her breath was ripped from Gwen’s lungs.

The world went dead silent.

The bass from the club, the wind, the noise—it all vanished.

Standing just a feet away from her was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a sharp jawline, intense eyes, and a familiar wave in his dark hair.

Gwen’s mind reeled. Her system screamed that she was losing her mind, that she was hallucinating from the drinks, or that the universe was playing a cruel joke. He was a perfect, living, breathing mirror of him...

Her knees went weak. She couldn’t breathe.

Before her brain could stop her, her heart took over. She shouted the only name that mattered into the dark.

“Arthur?!”

❣️

​