The rain had stopped, leaving puddles glowing under the streetlamps. I walked home in silence, bag hanging lazily over my shoulder, shoes splashing through the chill night air.
Reaching my flat, the first thought that crossed my mind was how to appease my hunger.
After drying myself with a towel, I headed toward the kitchen and let my culinary creativity shine—only to end up with instant noodles.
"This is going to affect your health if you keep eating this kind of food," a voice murmured from behind, low enough to make me freeze in my place.
When I turned, she was there—or rather, floating there—the figure of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
"You look beautiful as always," I said without missing a beat, my eyes fixed on her.
"Ahhh, Deeps, you can't just say that, you… You—" She faltered, her face turning a deeper shade of red with every passing second.
But soon she regained her composure and started nagging again. "You think you can avoid a scolding with just a little compliment?"
"Yes and no," I replied, my voice a strange mix of amusement and sincerity. "But it's not my fault you're such an easy one, Myra."
Her expression softened, and her tone dropped. "It's been twenty years next month since the day we first met."
"I know," I said, smiling. "And I've planned many fun things. Will you go with me?"
She frowned slightly. "Are you sure? You're always so busy. You barely have time for yourself."
I walked toward the living room where my bag sat, pulled out a folded paper, and spoke with quiet certainty.
"I resigned."
Her form shimmered faintly in the dim light as she floated above the couch, arms folded. She had grown from the small child who once peeked nervously from the corner of my room into the young woman who now met my gaze without wavering.
"What—?" Myra's eyes widened. "Why would you do something like that?"
Before she could continue, I stepped closer, the folded letter crumpling slightly in my fist.
"Will you give me a month of your time?" I asked firmly.
Her lips parted, then closed again, as if the words she wanted to speak had caught in her throat. She had always known—instinctively—that her stay in this world was limited. "Twenty years," she once whispered, was all she had. And now, that time was nearly gone.
"You know what happens after," she said softly, her voice trembling despite her calm face.
"I know," I admitted. "That's why I resigned. Work, money, all of it—what does it matter if I can't spend this last month with you?"
Her expression wavered, the strength she always tried to show giving way to something fragile. For a moment, she lifted her hand as if to reach for me, only for it to falter against the thin veil that separated us.
Finally, she let out a shaky laugh. "You're such an idiot."
"Hopelessly," I said, managing a smile.
Her eyes shone, and she lowered herself onto the couch, her form shimmering faintly. "One month," she whispered. "But promise me we'll live it like a lifetime."
"I promise," I said without hesitation.
From that night onward, every moment mattered. We walked in the rain until I was soaked to the bone, and she laughed like the little girl I had once met, though her voice now carried the warmth of a woman. We sat at the pier before sunrise, her head tilted toward the horizon she would never touch. I cooked meals clumsily, and though she could not taste them, she smiled as if savoring each bite through me.
She had grown with me, and now she was preparing to leave me.
And all the while, I realized: this month was never about holding on. It was about learning how to let her go.
"And then, before I could even realize it, our month was gone."
—43 years later—
I stood on the balcony of my house. I had earned a lot and accomplished a great deal, but I never considered changing my home. I looked at the place that was once full of pups—now filled only with silence. Still, I was happy, knowing they were all in good hands before I left.
I could feel my body growing weaker, slipping away. I had donated every part of my wealth except for this house, which would remain as my resting place.
I closed my eyes as my soul left my body. Endless darkness stretched before me—until a small hand reached out, pulling me toward the light.
And there she was.
No longer the young woman I had watched grow, but the child I had first met all those years ago—smiling, waiting, tugging me gently into the glow.
"I missed you, Myra," I sobbed, my voice breaking as I felt my body shrink, becoming once more the boy who had first reached out to her.
She opened her arms, just as she had back then, and I stumbled into them. Her touch was warm this time, real.
"It's okay, Deeps," she whispered, smiling broadly. "I told you, didn't I? I'll be with you always."
And in that moment, everything came full circle.
This is my story—how, in my childhood, I met a ghost who grew with time and, when her stay on Earth was fulfilled, vanished…
And how, somewhere between her first smile and her last goodbye, I fell in love with her.