Morning light flooded the room, soft and golden through the half-open curtains. The ceiling bulb glowed steady and boring, the corner was empty, and the air felt completely ordinary. No sign of her anywhere.
I lay there for a minute, staring at the spot where she'd vanished last night, my face still warm from the memory of that hug. Those soft, round… things.
*Stop it, brain.*
Eventually I dragged myself downstairs, still half-lost in the replay.
"Jack!" Dad's voice snapped me out of it. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. "I've been shouting your name for five minutes. You okay up there?"
"Sorry," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Just… didn't sleep great."
He raised an eyebrow but let it slide. "Come eat before it gets cold."
At the table, Mom was serving eggs while my siblings argued over the last strip of bacon. Dad sat across from me, sipping coffee.
"So," he said casually, "you're officially not scared of sleeping alone anymore, right?"
I nodded, mouth full. "Yeah."
He grinned. "Perfect. Means if your mom and I want a night out—or even take the kids somewhere for the weekend—you can handle the house by yourself. No more 'I'm too scared' excuses."
My fork froze halfway to my mouth. "You guys planning a trip or something?"
Mom laughed. "Not yet, sweetie. But it'll be nice to have the option again."
Dad winked. "We trust you."
I forced a smile. "Yeah… cool."
Night arrived faster than I wanted.
I lingered at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the railing.
"If they really do leave me alone in the house one weekend…" A sneaky grin crept onto my face. "Unlimited private time. No interruptions. I could finally watch some… p***."
Feeling suddenly cheerful, I bounded up the stairs two at a time, threw open my bedroom door, and belly-flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.
Almost on cue, the bulb in the corner began its familiar flicker.
On… off… on… off…
Half an hour. Exactly.
"Hello," a playful voice sang from directly above me.
I glanced up—just in time to see her plastered flat against the ceiling like a horror-movie poster, grinning ear to ear.
Then she let go.
She dropped straight down and landed on my chest with an *oof*.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Hehehehe!" She rolled off, floating in a triumphant loop. "Scared you again!"
"I specifically told you not to do that anymore!" I gasped, clutching my ribs.
Her smile faded. She sank lower, shoulders drooping. "But… it's my job." The lights dimmed until the room felt like a sad movie scene.
Instant guilt hit me. "Okay, okay—I'm sorry. You're right. Scaring people is your thing."
I patted the bed beside me and lay back properly. She drifted down and settled cross-legged in the air.
"You going to sleep already?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, eventually."
Her face fell further. "So… we're not going to do that today?"
"Do what?!" I shot upright, heart skipping for a totally different reason.
She blinked innocently. "Talk. Aren't you going to talk with me tonight?"
I exhaled in relief, flopping back down. "Oh. Talking. Right."
A shy smile tugged at her lips. "Why do you even want to talk to me, anyway?"
She hugged her knees again, floating gently side to side. "Because you're the first living human I've spoken to in twenty years. Most ghosts are so boring—they just complain about the same unfinished business forever. A few interesting one used to visit me here sometimes, but even they haven't come around lately."
The lights dimmed again, soft and lonely.
Twenty years. Stuck on one floor. Waiting.
Something in my chest ached. Without overthinking it, I opened my arms. "Hey… come here. You can have a hug if you want."
Her whole face lit up like sunrise. "Really?"
"Yeah."
(I felt a tiny pang of guilt for how much I was going to enjoy this, but… whatever.)
She launched forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly, burying her face in my shoulder. For the third night in a row, those impossibly soft, warm, round things pressed gently against my face.
This, I thought, eyes half-closing in bliss, is actual heaven.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice muffled and happy.
I hugged her back carefully. "No… thank you."
She pulled away just enough to look at me, head tilted. "But why?"
"N-nothing!" I stammered, face burning.
She giggled, the lights flickering cheerfully again.
Then she settled beside me—actually sitting on the mattress this time, legs tucked under her.
"So…" I said, clearing my throat. "What do you want to talk about?"
Her eyes went wide and sparkly. "Anything! Just talk to me."
So we did.
I told her about school—my idiot friends, the classes I hated. About my little sister's obsession with unicorns and my brother's endless Fortnite victories. About how weird it felt moving to this new house.
She listened like every word was treasure, laughing at the funny parts, asking questions, floating a little higher when she got excited.
The hours slipped away. Outside, the moon climbed and began to sink again.
For the first time since we moved in, my room didn't feel empty at all.