Lydia had never felt so alive, her heart racing with excitement and purpose as she set out to meet with her first few clients in her new ghost hunting business. Each case was different, but they all had one thing in common: people who were lost, looking for answers, and hoping she could connect them with the other side. Some were skeptics looking for a quick thrill, others desperately seeking closure. But as she listened to their stories and communicated with the spirits that lingered, Lydia found that she had a true gift for bringing peace to the living and the dead.
As the months passed, Lydia's reputation grew, and so did her business. She started getting calls from all over the state, and eventually, the country. She had to hire an assistant to keep up with the demand, and they moved into a larger apartment with a dedicated office space.
But with success came sacrifice. Lydia found herself spending more and more time with her clients, often coming home long after Astrid had gone to bed. Richard tried to be supportive, taking on extra work around the house and spending more time with their daughter, but it was clear that he felt neglected. His attempts to reconnect with Lydia were often met with exhaustion and distraction, as she was always thinking about her next appointment or her latest encounter with the supernatural.
One evening, as Richard tucked Astrid into bed, the little girl looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes. "Daddy, why is Mommy always with her imaginary friends?" she asked, clutching her favorite stuffed animal tightly to her chest. Richard's heart ached as he struggled to find the right words to explain Lydia's newfound obsession. "Mommy is just working hard to help people baby" he said, hoping to soothe her concerns. But Astrid was old enough to sense the tension in the air.
The rift grew wider. Richard took Astrid to her school plays, her soccer games, protests supporting important causes in the city, and even her first Halloween parade, all without Lydia by their side. As time passed Richard felt like a single parent, juggling his own job and the responsibilities of raising a daughter who was growing more curious and confused by the day.
One cold, rainy night, Astrid lay in bed, unable to sleep. She went into Richard's room where he was sleeping all alone. Astrid shook her father awake to ask him one question that was now on her mind. "Do I still have a mommy?" Astrid whispered into the darkness, her voice trembling. Richard's heart broke as he heard his daughter's quiet question, and he rushed to her side, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Of course you do, sweetie," he assured her, his voice thick with sadness. "Mommy loves you very much. She's just busy right now."
The situation was growing increasingly tense. Lydia's work was taking a toll on their marriage, and Richard felt like he was slowly losing the woman he loved. He tried to talk to Lydia about it, but she was always too caught up in her work to listen. "We can't keep living like this," he finally said one night when Lydia was actually home, as the rain pounded against the windows. "You're gone all the time. Astrid needs you. I need you."
Lydia looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and defiance. "But I'm doing important things I'm meant to do," she insisted. "I'm helping people. I'm giving them closure." But Richard knew that she was also running from something - from the fear of being an average wife and mother, from the pain of her own past, perhaps. He just didn't know how to make her see that she was losing the people who needed her most: her own family.
The following months were a blur of late nights and empty beds. As Lydia's business boomed, Astrid grew more and more withdrawn. Richard tried to fill the void, but he couldn't replace the love and attention of a mother. He watched as Astrid's eyes grew sadder with each passing day, and he knew he had to do something.
One night, as Lydia was getting ready to leave for yet another appointment, Richard took a deep breath. "Lydia," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "We need to talk."
Lydia paused, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The love and desperation in his eyes mirrored the emotions she felt herself. She knew that something had to change.
Slowly, Lydia turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, setting aside her bag of ghost hunting gear. "Okay," she said, her voice small. "Let's talk."
Richard took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I just... I can't do this anymore, Lydia. It's like we're living two separate lives under the same roof."
Lydia's eyes searched his face, looking for a glimmer of hope, a sign that this was just a phase. But what she saw was pain - pain she had caused. "What do you mean?"
"You're always gone," he said, his voice cracking. "You're always with your ghosts, and I'm here with Astrid, feeling like we're the ones who are invisible."
The silence that followed was deafening. Lydia felt the weight of his words, heavy as the fog that clung to the cemetery where she often found solace. "I didn't mean for it to be like this," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I just wanted to help people."
"And you do," Richard said, taking her hand. "You help so many. But who's helping us?"
Lydia knew he was right. She had thrown herself into her work to escape the mundanity of life, to find purpose in a world that often seemed so bleak. But in doing so, she had neglected the people who loved her most.
"I know," she said finally. "I know I've lost sight of what's important."
"We need to figure this out," Richard said, his grip on her hand tightening. "Maybe we should take some time apart."
The words hung in the air, cold and final. Lydia's heart felt like it had been ripped in two. "A... a break?" she stuttered.
"Not forever," he assured her. "Just until we know for sure if we still need each other."
The idea was terrifying, but Lydia knew that if she truly loved Richard, she had to let him go. Maybe some distance would help her see clearly again, help her remember who she was before the whispers of the dead had consumed her.
As Richard packed his bags for his mission trip to the Amazon, Lydia tried to put on a brave face for Astrid. But as she watched Richard board the plane, her heart felt heavier than the suitcase he was carrying.
The first few days without him were a struggle. Astrid was clingy, and Lydia's mind kept drifting back to her ghostly clients. She tried to focus on her daughter, to fill the void with the warmth of their bond, but it felt forced, like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. The whispers of the spirits grew louder in her mind, calling out to her, begging for her help.
Against her better judgment, she took on a new case - a local family plagued by a restless spirit. The house was cold and eerie, the perfect setting for a ghost story. But as she walked through the hallowed halls, she felt a pang of regret. The thrill of the hunt was gone, replaced by a gnawing feeling that she was neglecting her own flesh and blood.
When she returned home, Astrid was already asleep. Lydia sat in the quiet living room, surrounded by the remnants of their half-hearted attempts at family time. The toys lay scattered, the TV still playing a movie that her daughter had long lost her interest. Lydia picked up a picture of herself, Richard, and Astrid. It was a picture taken on a happier day, and Astrid felt the chances of those happier days returning were becoming far less likely.
With a heavy sigh, she called Richard. His voice on the other end was a lifeline, but she couldn't bring herself to admit her failure. Instead, she talked about her new case, her voice animated and excited. She heard the disappointment in his voice, but he didn't push her. He just said, "Take care of Astrid for me, okay?"
The call ended, and Lydia was left with her thoughts. She knew that Richard had hoped she'd spend the time focusing on their family, but she was drowning in her work again. The ghosts had become a crutch, a way to avoid the pain of reality.
The next day, Lydia made an effort to be present. She took Astrid to the park, pushed her on the swings, and listened to her giggles. But even as she pushed the swing higher and higher, her eyes kept drifting to the shadows, searching for a sign, a whisper, anything that would take her away from the mundane.
Later that night, as she lay in bed, the whispers grew too loud to ignore. She picked up her phone and sent a text to Richard. "I'm sorry," it read. "I'm going to fix this. I promise."
But the whispers didn't care about promises.
Over the next year, Richard returned home from his mission trips to find a semblance of normalcy. He'd play catch with Astrid in the backyard, her laughter ringing out like the sweetest music. He'd tell her bedtime stories, the same ones she used to beg Lydia to read. He'd make her pancakes on weekends, the ones shaped like monsters and decapitated zombies that Astrid very much enjoyed.
Yet, as soon as Richard would arrive from his trips to help take care of Astrid, Lydia would retreat to her office. The door would close with a soft click, and the whispers would start up again. Richard would sit on the couch every night after Astrid went to bed, the silence of the house pressing down on him like a thick fog. He'd hear the faint tapping of Lydia's keyboard, the rustle of papers, the murmurs of spirits long gone.
He'd sit there, feeling like a ghost in his own home, wondering if he'd ever get his wife back. He wondered if he'd ever get the woman who kissed him under the moonlight, who held his hand in the dark, who promised to love him through eternity. The woman who had once looked into his eyes and seen a future filled with more than just the dead.
One night, as he lay in the bed they once shared, listening to the rain outside, Richard made a decision. He couldn't live like this anymore. He couldn't watch his daughter grow up thinking that marriage represented two people that were always distant with one another.
So the next morning, as Lydia packed her bag for another appointment, Richard approached her. "I can't do this," he said, his voice low and serious. "I can't keep coming home to a wife who's more in love with her job than she is with me."
Lydia looked at him, surprise and hurt etched on her face. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Richard said, taking a deep breath, "that you're lost in this world of the dead. You're neglecting the living. We need you, Lydia. Astrid and I need you."
Lydia's eyes searched his face, and for a brief moment, Richard saw a glimmer of the girl he'd fallen in love with. But it was quickly replaced by the steely determination that had become so familiar. "I have to help these clients of mine," she said. "They need me."
"We need you," Richard repeated, his voice firm. "And if you can't see that, then maybe it's time for me to leave. For good."
The words hung in the air like a funeral shroud, choking Lydia's ability to speak. She wanted to grab him, to pull him back, to tell him she'd give up her gift for him, that she'd abandon the spirits for their love. Yet for some reason... Lydia was unable to say those words, and was only able to stand in silence.
Three days later, Richard stood at the door, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his eyes red and tired from lack of sleep. He looked at Lydia, his love for her so potent it was almost tangible. But there was something else in his gaze too - a sadness so deep it was like looking into an abyss. "I'll always love you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But I can't keep doing this."
With trembling hands, he left a set of folded papers on Astrid's desk. Divorce papers. The sight of them was like a knife to Lydia's soul. She watched as he leaned down to kiss Astrid goodbye, his eyes closing for a moment as if memorizing the feel of their daughter's cheek. "Daddy," Astrid whispered, her voice filled with the same sadness that painted her mother's heart. Richard's eyes filled with tears as he said, "I'll always love you, baby. No matter what happens, always remember that."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Lydia and Astrid in a house that felt suddenly too large, too empty. Astrid looked up at her mother, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. "Mommy?" she asked, her voice small. Lydia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "It's okay, sweetheart," she said, her voice shaking. "Daddy just had to go away for a little while."
But it wasn't okay. As the days turned to weeks, and the whispers grew more insistent, Lydia felt the gap between her and Astrid widening. The house that had once been filled with laughter and love now echoed with the cries of the lost and the lonely.
Lydia tried to fill the void with more cases, more spirits to help. But with each passing day, the work felt more like a curse than a calling. The whispers grew louder, the faces more insistent, until she could hardly hear the sound of her own thoughts. And every time she looked at Astrid, she saw Richard's love in her eyes, a love that she had pushed aside for her ghosts.
One evening, as she sat in her office surrounded by her spectral companions, the phone rang, shattering the silence. It was a call from the mission group Richard was a part of, their voices trembling with fear and sorrow. Richard had gone missing in the Amazon, and despite the tireless search efforts, he had been pronounced dead. The room spun around Lydia, and she barely registered the sound of her own scream before collapsing to the floor.
When she gathered the strength to tell Astrid, the girl's face crumpled like a paper doll's, her eyes welling up with tears. Lydia tried to hold her, to soothe her, but Astrid pushed her away, the anger and hurt too raw to be contained. "Why didn't you stop him from leaving?" she screamed, her voice echoing through the halls of the now cold, empty house.
Feeling the weight of her failure as a wife and a mother, Lydia made a decision that she hoped would protect Astrid from the darkness that had consumed her. With a heavy heart, she packed her daughter's things and sent her to live at the boarding school her step mother was a co-owner of. Upon being dropped off at the boarding school, Astrid looked at her with betrayal in her eyes, feeling abandoned once again by the one person who was supposed to love her most.
As the car pulled away from the school, Lydia watched Astrid shrink into the distance. The gates swallowed her up, leaving Lydia with nothing but the cold embrace of the spirits she had chosen over her own flesh and blood. She knew that she had to find a way to live with the pain, to find a balance between her gift and her love for her daughter. But for now, all she had was the deafening silence of a house that had lost its warmth and the haunting whispers of the ghosts who had claimed her heart.
The End