The library felt colder than usual the next morning. Ricky sat at his desk, pretending to read, but his mind was still lost in the conversation from the day before. Lisa's words repeated endlessly in his head:
"I'm a fragment… only your heart can bring me back."
He traced the faded note he had found in the yearbook with his finger:
"She watches over those she loves. Do not fear her presence. She is not gone, just… waiting."
Waiting. For him? Or for something else?
His classmates laughed and chattered around him, but Ricky felt like he existed in a world apart. None of them knew that Lisa Lima, the upperclassman everyone remembered as a tragic loss, still wandered the school in ghostly fragments. None of them knew that Ricky spoke to her, touched her shadow, dreamed her memories.
None of them knew that he was falling in love with someone who wasn't supposed to exist.
That evening, Ricky lingered in the classroom long after everyone had left. The sunset painted the windows orange, the light slowly fading to violet. He closed his notebook, staring at the darkening sky.
"She'll come," he whispered to himself. "She always does."
And she did.
Lisa appeared at the far side of the classroom, leaning against the chalkboard as if she'd always been there. Her long hair shimmered faintly in the dying sunlight.
"Ricky," she said softly, her voice carrying both warmth and sadness.
He stood quickly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Lisa… you're here."
Her smile was faint, but real. "Of course. You called me."
Ricky hesitated. "I… I don't understand. Why me? Why not anyone else? Why do you only appear to me?"
Lisa's eyes darkened, her expression unreadable. "Because you're the only one who remembers me like this. The only one whose heart is open enough to see me."
He swallowed hard. "Does that mean… you've been trying to reach others before?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. Only you. Always you."
Something in her words made Ricky's chest tighten. It felt good—wonderful even—to know she chose him. But it also terrified him.
"Lisa… what happens when you finally fade?" he asked.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time, her form flickered, like a candle in the wind. "If I fade, I'll be gone completely. Not even whispers or shadows will remain. It's… frightening."
Ricky stepped closer, his hands trembling as he tried to touch her. His fingers brushed through her like smoke, leaving only the cold sting of absence. "I won't let that happen," he said fiercely. "There has to be a way. Some way to keep you here."
She looked up at him then, her eyes shimmering with something unreadable. "And if keeping me here destroys you? If it steals your future away?"
"I don't care," Ricky said, his voice breaking. "I'd rather be destroyed than live without you."
For a long moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then Lisa smiled sadly. "You remind me of who I was before… before the accident. That's why I can't leave you yet."
Ricky blinked. "Before? What do you mean?"
Her eyes flickered with something almost painful, and she turned away. "Not tonight," she whispered. "I'll tell you when you're ready."
And just like that, her body dissolved into the growing darkness of the classroom, leaving Ricky alone with his pounding heart.
The next day, Ricky's obsession deepened. He skipped lunch to search the school archives again, pulling out dusty boxes filled with old clippings and photos. He needed to know more about Lisa's life—and her death.
Finally, buried in a yellowed newspaper, he found it:
"Tragedy Strikes: Local Student Lisa Lima Dies in Car Crash at Age 17"
The article was short, but it included details that chilled him. The accident had happened late at night on a rainy road, only a few blocks from Ricky's current house.
And then—something strange. The article mentioned that Lisa had been found holding a small pendant in her hands. A pendant that had never been recovered.
Ricky's heart raced. Could that pendant be the reason she lingered?
He slammed the box shut, earning a suspicious glance from the librarian. He didn't care. He needed answers.
That night, as he lay in bed, he dreamed again. This time, the dream was sharper, clearer. He saw Lisa in the backseat of a car, rain streaking down the windows. Her hands clutched a silver pendant, her knuckles white.
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't let it end here…"
The sound of screeching tires filled the air. Ricky jolted awake, gasping for breath. His heart thundered as he pressed his hands to his chest.
These weren't just dreams. They were memories. Lisa's memories.
And he realized something terrifying—Lisa wasn't just tethered to him because of his love. She was tied to him because he had something she needed.
The pendant.
But why him? Why was he the one seeing her memories? Why was he the one she appeared to?
Ricky sat up, staring into the darkness of his room. He whispered her name, almost like a prayer.
And faintly, in the silence, came her reply:
"Find it, Ricky… please… find it."
This was no longer just about love. It was about unfinished business, about a girl caught between life and death, about a thread connecting their worlds that could snap at any moment.
And Ricky Martin was determined to follow it—no matter where it led.