The Man She Called Casper

She stared at the screen.

Months of silence, and now he's sharing his lunch menu.

She was angry, hurt, jealous of the people who received his attention while she waited in agony.

She had given so much of herself to him. It wasn't fair.

She should have ignored it.

But the thrill was already there, humming under her skin.

He's back! She thought as the dopamine coursed through her body.

His message was casual.

No apology. No explanation. Nothing.

She responded casually too, not to let on just how miserable she was left feeling by his ghosting, but also not to let on to how happy she felt to see his name pop up.

"Yum. What flavor?"

Why she didn't question him, she wasn't quite sure.

So it began again, the casual and constant back and forth messaging that always began the same way.

"Good morning love. I hope you slept well. I miss you."

He had a silver tongue and she fell into his trap yet again.

Every word felt like a lifeline, even though she knew it might strangle her in the end.

Late-night conversations where only the most sensitive truths felt safe to share.

The secret meetups where there was never any distance between them.

The level of comfort that she had with him was special, so she thought.

"If I left my wife, would we ever be together?" He asked.

That single question both excited and scared her.

Weeks blurred into months.

The good morning messages. The sweet nothings. The middle-of-the-night whispers made possible by a glowing screen. The hang outs. The pillow talk. The mundane everyday conversations.

Her mind raced in a million different directions. He was always there. It was exhausting.

She was so conflicted.

Some days she didn't even understand why she was doing what she was doing.

Her marriage was good, solid, in most ways; but what she felt with him was sharp and intoxicating, lighting up parts of her she hadn’t realized had gone quiet.

Guilt built up like a storm. Her stomach knotted every time his name lit up her screen.

But she lived for his morning messages. Craved his words and his firm hugs that made her feel like she mattered to him.

She messaged him. "I need to see you."

"If you need to see me, you must see me then." He replied.

They made plans for the next day to meet at a store.

She got there first and let him know.

"Word." He replied and added he'd be there in fifteen minutes.

fifteen minutes came and went. There she was left sitting all alone. Waiting.

After waiting an excruciating 30 minutes she texted.

"What's going on? Are you almost here?"

She waited for the response but it never came.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she waited for another fifteen minutes.

She finally called it.

What a waste of time. She thought. So many other things she could have been doing.

Stunned at his audacity, she messaged him her thoughts.

They weren't nice. Then with tears in her eyes she left.

As she drove home, her phone stayed silent on the seat beside her.

That’s when she knew.

She had been ghosted.

Again.

When she got home from that wasted trip, she messaged him again.

And again.

And again.

The day's conversations replayed in her mind. Why was he doing this? Again.

Things had been wonderful between them. She was at a loss.

To her family she seemed normal-- handling dinner, laundry, the usual chores. Check. Check. Check.

But inside, she was heartbroken. Lost.

Days passed. She tried to carry on the best she could. The show must go on!

She saw on social media that he was alive and well--Better than well.

There were pictures of him out and about laughing and smiling. Wow.

She gave herself pep talks. Focus on your family. On those who truly care about you. You deserve better than being ignored after...everything.

As the days went on, it did get slightly easier this time.

Sure.

She messaged him.

A lot.

Like a borderline crazy amount. But, he knew what he had done to her--that was his punishment.

A few weeks before he'd ghost her again, they made plans to spend a day together.

The morning of that day, very early, her phone lit up with his name.

"Are we still on for later?" He asked.

They had planned a movie, lunch, and time for just them. She had bought the tickets already.

She responded as simply as he did: "My plans haven't changed."

She didn't expect him to show up. She talked herself into enjoying a solo day hoping to relax her mind.

She’d been waiting in the parking lot for a few minutes when he pulled up beside her.

He hopped out of his truck and slid into her car. "Hi." He said.

She just stared, lost for words. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel; her head shook in disbelief.

"I'm sorry." He began.

Ah-ha! And there it was.

Finally. An actual apology.

He continued, quietly.

"Emotions scare me," he admitted. "I don’t handle them well."

"I do know I love you, and I need you," he added. "I’m selfish, and I don’t want to give you up. You make my life better."

She accepted the apology, finally understanding the why, even if it didn’t erase the pain that he caused.

She warned him that if he disappeared again, they were done.

He agreed to talk with her if he started feeling scared and promised that he would not disappear again.

They went into the movies.

They cuddled close, practically laying on top of each other. Hands found each other. Fingers traced along arms and shoulders. Every brush of skin sent sparks through her.

She forgot, for a while, who she was supposed to be.

For that moment, nothing else existed but them, the stolen closeness, the quiet thrill, the warmth of being near someone who made her ache for more.

They ate lunch. They talked. They laughed.

Their connection felt like no other.

When their day was over and she got home, she was still riding high from it.

She texted him.

"I had such an amazing day today. I miss you already."

She expected to hear from him soon like normally she would. But no response came.