The Ghost of Yesterday
Ryene Blessy T. Aquino

Clara's POV

In Stella's room, I sat beside her, soothing her after her recent outburst. She had demanded a story, one from my own past, which resurfaced a flood of memories I had long buried. As a single mother, I had navigated life's challenges without her father by my side. His absence was a void I struggled to fill, but our story remained etched in my heart, immortalized in the pages of the last book I had written. When Stella's tears subsided, she whispered softly, questioning my love for her. Her innocence pierced through my defenses, and I reassured her of my unwavering affection. Yet, the mention of her father's love story weighed heavy on my heart, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost. With a heavy sigh, I relented, opening the book titled "The Ghost of Yesterday," our shared history captured within its pages.

10 years ago...

Our final year of college was a whirlwind of anticipation and excitement, culminating in our anniversary celebration. David had meticulously planned a surprise dinner to mark the occasion, a gesture that left me speechless. Blindfolded and led to our table, I was greeted by familiar faces and David's radiant smile. With trembling hands, he professed his love, asking for my hand in marriage amidst tears of joy. Overwhelmed by emotion, I accepted his proposal, our future together unfolding before us like a fairytale.

Our journey as husband and wife was marked by milestones and shared dreams. From passing board exams to building a home, our bond only grew stronger with each passing day. The joy of discovering I was pregnant brought us immeasurable happiness, a testament to our enduring love.

Present time...

As I concluded our story, I glanced at Stella, now peacefully asleep. The ache of loss still lingered, but in her innocence, I found solace. "I wrote our story to cherish the love we shared, but the pain of losing him never fades," I confessed, longing for his presence once more. With a heavy heart, I drifted into slumber, our family portrait a silent reminder of the love that transcended time.

The End