Chapter 3: Midnight, and the Ghosts Return

Tyler Grant. Tyler Grant.

I mouthed his name to myself twice, then calmly looked away, searching for Carter. Don’t let him see you sweat.

He was sitting in a booth in the corner, smiling and chatting with a woman. She had her hand on his arm, laughing at something only they seemed to get.

They were laughing, and she playfully tapped Carter’s forehead with her knuckle. Very close, very sweet. My chest tightened.

I knew her. She was Carter’s childhood friend—they grew up together and were tight, more than friends but not quite lovers. There was always something there.

Honestly, it made sense—sometimes you’re so familiar with someone, you can’t cross that line, afraid to lose even the friendship. Story of my life.

I was actually glad they never ended up together, or else I wouldn’t have a place in this whole love game. Not that it made me feel any better.

I stood at the door for a while. No one noticed me. For a second, I felt invisible.

A familiar sense of helplessness crept up from deep inside me, just like when I was eighteen, excited to go to the bar and find Tyler, only to open the door and realize I didn’t belong. The ache was the same.

I realized, once again, that I wasn’t part of their world. Not then, not now. Some things never change.

It was true back then, and it’s still true now.

Back then, I forced myself not to care because I loved Tyler. Didn’t work then, either.

Now, I force myself not to care because I love money. Ha. At least I’m honest about it now.

I quietly walked over to Carter and tapped him on the shoulder. My hands were cold and clammy.

Carter looked at me. For a second, his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read.

I could see the smile in his eyes fade a little. My stomach dropped.

I put on my gentle smile, brushed the hair from his forehead, and said softly, “Sorry, I had to work overtime today, so I’m a bit late.” Inside, I was bracing for whatever came next.

He finally snapped out of it, reached over to rub my palm, and frowned a little. “Is the heat not working? Why are your hands so cold?”

“Maybe it’s just the temperature swing. My body hasn’t caught up yet. Did you catch a chill?” I said, trying to pull my hand back. I tried to sound breezy, but my voice cracked a little.

Carter instinctively held on tighter. “I’m worried you’ll get sick.” For a second, I almost believed he meant it.

At some point, the noisy room had quieted down. The mood froze for a few seconds. Everyone was watching. I heard someone tease, “Carter, is this your mysterious girlfriend? She finally showed up. Aren’t you gonna introduce her?”

I looked over. The guy in the varsity jacket lounged next to Tyler, grinning like he owned the place.

Tyler leaned back lazily, flicking open and closed a lighter—his classic move when he was irritated. I remembered that tic all too well.

Carter stood up, put his arm around my waist, and led me to the group. “Alright, let me introduce you: this is Ivy Monroe, my girlfriend.” My heart pounded in my chest.

“Girlfriend? She’s already got the ring—when’s the wedding, Carter?” Someone with sharp eyes spotted the ring on my finger and teased.

My hand instinctively clenched, then relaxed. I tried not to show it, but I felt exposed.

Carter’s body stiffened for a second, but he quickly acted normal. “As long as you’ve got your wedding gifts ready, I can tie the knot anytime.”

Someone was about to make another joke, but Carter shielded me. “She’s shy. Mess with me all you want, but leave her out of it.”

So the room got even rowdier. I forced a smile, wishing I could disappear.

Carter was pulled away by his friends to drink, and with nothing else to do, I sat quietly in the corner, scrolling through my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen, not really reading anything.

Honestly, I didn’t have much to do. I never do at these things.

I don’t like reality TV, don’t play games, don’t read romance novels, and don’t watch TikTok. What do I even do for fun?

I like to daydream, but this wasn’t the place for it. Not with all these people.

So I started eating.

Little by little, I picked at the desserts on the coffee table. I popped a cookie in my mouth, not really tasting it.

I hadn’t had dinner and was a bit hungry. My stomach grumbled, and I pretended not to notice.

I sat in that room for two hours and nineteen minutes. Not that I was counting. But I was.

Ate a plate of sugar cookies, three cherry tomatoes, and drank two glasses of juice. That was my big night out.

The whole time, I could feel someone watching me from behind. The hairs on my neck prickled.

But I never turned around.

By the time the party broke up, it was already past midnight. My eyes burned with exhaustion.

Carter was hammered and stumbling. He could barely stand up straight, his words slurring together.

A few girls wanted to help him, but he waved them off and finally picked his closest childhood friend to help him out. Of course.

As for me, I was left to carry his coat and car keys, ready to be the designated driver. Cinderella with a parking ticket.

Halfway to the car, Carter looked back at me, slurring, and called my name: “Ivy…” He sounded so small in that moment.

I answered softly, “I’m here.”

At the parking lot, I opened the back door, watched his childhood friend wrestle him into the car, and said goodnight to the others. I felt like a ghost.

I got in, ready to start the engine, when I noticed two coats on the passenger seat—and realized I’d forgotten my scarf. Classic.

But his childhood friend had already closed the car door, waiting for me to drive. No going back now.

Oh well, it wasn’t worth much. I’d just let it go.

Before leaving, I couldn’t help glancing at Tyler in the rearview mirror. My heart squeezed tight.

He was turned away from me, head down, lighting a cigarette, his whole posture screaming cold detachment. Like I didn’t even exist.

I looked away and gave a small, self-mocking smile.

Just a reminder of how clueless I’d been back then. Some lessons stick with you.

I drove into Carter’s garage.

I’d planned to stay and take care of him, but the Whitmans had plenty of staff, so honestly, they didn’t need me hanging around.

His childhood friend also kindly reminded me that Carter’s parents liked polite, well-mannered girls, and since Carter hadn’t officially brought me home yet, I should be tactful—translation: don’t overstep.

So at two in the morning, I found myself standing outside the gated community, shivering in the cold for half an hour before finally catching an Uber. My feet felt like ice blocks.

Big cities are great—even at night, you can still get a ride. Thank God for that.

But forgetting my scarf was just bad luck; the winter wind was so sharp, I could barely feel my face. Figures.

By the time I got back to my apartment building, it was already three in the morning. I was dead on my feet.

I trudged upstairs. The elevator doors opened. I stepped out, fumbled for my keys, hands numb.

A strong smell of smoke hit me. I looked up, wondering if there was a fire somewhere.

Then I saw a tall man standing at my door. My heart skipped a beat.

At his feet was a pile of cigarette butts—seriously, a whole ashtray’s worth—and there was a glowing cigarette between his long fingers.

In his other hand, he was holding the scarf I’d left behind.

He looked up, eyes shadowed under the hallway light, and for a split second, I felt like I was eighteen again—caught between the girl I used to be and the woman I was trying so hard to become. My heart thudded in my chest. Some things never really change. Not Tyler. Not me. Not the ache of wanting something you know you can’t have.