Chapter 2: After the Storm, Only Ghosts

The sound startled me, echoing through the tiny apartment. For a moment, I thought about ignoring it, pretending I wasn’t home.

It was Julian. He’d left, but he’d come back.

He stood in the hallway, hair still damp. Eyes uncertain. He looked smaller somehow, like he’d left a piece of himself behind in the bedroom.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk more about Lucas,” Julian said. “I only realized something was wrong about a year ago. Before that, no one noticed anything. So—Lucas was pretending to be me, right?”

His voice was tentative, the words coming out in a rush. He shifted from foot to foot, like he was afraid I’d slam the door in his face.

I nodded.

I just nodded. My throat felt tight, but at least I didn’t have to hide anymore.

“If that’s true, how did you figure it out?”

His question hung in the air, soft and vulnerable. I could see he wanted to understand, to piece together the fragments of his own life.

“I don’t know. I could just tell.” Even though they shared one body, one face, one pair of eyes.

I remembered the way Lucas smiled, the warmth in his touch. It was impossible to explain, but I never doubted it for a second.

But I could always tell them apart.

It was in the way they looked at me, the way Lucas’s eyes softened, the way Julian’s always seemed to hold something back. Some things you just know, deep in your bones.

“Dating someone with a split personality—doesn’t that bother you?”

He asked it quietly, almost like he was afraid of the answer. There was a hint of accusation, but mostly just confusion.

I frowned; his words felt a little sharp. “You and Lucas are completely different people, with your own personalities. Maybe for you, Lucas’s existence is a problem, but he’s very important to me.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but my hands trembled. I wanted him to understand, even if he never could.

“Would you mind telling me how you and Lucas fell in love?”

His eyes searched mine, earnest and a little lost.

“I don’t mind.”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself to dig up memories I’d tried to bury. The words felt fragile, but I owed him that much.

Julian looked up at me.

He just looked at me, waiting. For once, he actually seemed like he wanted to listen.

“Julian, you know we’re on opposite sides.” I kept my voice blunt. “If Lucas disappears, it means your illness is treated and you get to be ‘normal’ again. For me, it means I’ve lost my lover for good, and I have to carry that alone.”

My voice cracked on the last word. I didn’t bother to hide it. Some truths are too heavy to dress up.

Julian gave a slow smile. “You really loved him?”

His voice was soft, almost kind. For a moment, I saw a flicker of something like empathy in his eyes.

Yes, I loved him. Saying it out loud hurt, but it also felt like a weight off my chest.

He glanced around.

His gaze swept over the room, taking in the mismatched furniture, the cluttered bookshelves, the faint scent of coffee and old paper. He looked out of place, like someone who’d wandered into the wrong story.

Julian was old money. He’d probably never even set foot in a place like mine before.

He hesitated by the door, as if unsure whether to step further in or leave. I could see him cataloging everything, trying to make sense of a life so different from his own.

There were slippers by the door—Lucas’s. A mug with his name on the table. A photo of us on the bookshelf.

Little markers of a life that no longer existed. The slippers were worn at the heels, the mug chipped at the rim. The photo was faded at the edges, but the smiles were bright.

Julian picked up the photo and stared at it, his expression strange. “Same face, but that expression is so unfamiliar.”

He traced a finger over the glass, his brow furrowing. It was like he was looking at a ghost wearing his own skin.

Julian could never smile so gently.

There was a hardness to him, a wall that Lucas never had. The difference was subtle, but unmistakable. You could feel it, even if you couldn’t see it.

“Was he gentle with you?” Julian asked. “Is that why you can’t forget him?”

His question was soft, almost wistful. I wondered if he even realized how much he wanted to understand.

I took the photo back and stared at it for a long time.

The silence between us was thick, but not uncomfortable. I let myself remember, just for a moment, what it felt like to be loved that way.

“It’s really late,” Julian said, changing the subject. “I might reach out again. I hope you don’t mind.”

He tried to sound casual, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. I could tell he wasn’t used to asking for permission, not from me.

That was the biggest difference between Lucas and Julian.

If Lucas was gentle, Julian used gentleness as a mask for his coldness. Even when he spoke politely, his words and actions couldn’t hide his distance.

I didn’t want to have more contact with someone like that.

The thought was sharp, but honest. I’d spent too long holding on to ghosts. It was time to let go.

All through high school, Julian and I were just classmates. Nothing more.

We sat on opposite sides of the classroom, exchanged polite nods in the hallway. Sometimes I’d catch him glancing my way, but I never looked back for long.

He was the class president; I was the academic rep.

Our conversations were clipped, efficient. We worked well together, but never strayed into anything personal. It was easier that way.

That was normal. After all, we weren’t the same kind of people.

I came from a world of secondhand clothes and thrift store furniture. He came from private schools and summer camps in the Hamptons. It wasn’t just about grades. Not even close.

Even though we were both in the AP track and our grades were similar, I needed good grades to change my future and earn scholarships to support myself.

Every test, every assignment felt like a rung on a ladder I was desperate to climb. Failure wasn’t an option—not for me.

I had to work hard for everything.

Nothing came easy. My after-school hours were spent tutoring, babysitting, bussing tables. No backup plan. No one to catch me if I fell.

But Julian’s excellence seemed effortless.

He breezed through everything—tests, debates, the school play. He made it look easy, and maybe for him, it was.