The Ghost Valentine’s Truth

Cupid shows what her hearts always known

The Ghost of Valentine’s Truth

On Valentine’s night
the knocking came again —
slow, deliberate,
like truth asking permission.

“I am the Ghost
of What You Already Knew.”

It didn’t take my hand gently.
It pulled.

The room shifted.

There he was —
not the version he rehearsed,
not the one with soft apologies
and tired excuses —

but the one I felt
when my stomach tightened
and my mind wouldn’t rest.

The ghost lifted the dark
like a curtain.

I saw the hidden screen glow.
The turned-back phone.
The half-truths dressed as confusion.
The silence that always meant
more than silence.

“You weren’t insecure,”
the ghost said.
“You were intuitive.”

Scene after scene
my thoughts replayed —
the questions I swallowed,
the red flags I folded small
so they’d fit inside love.

Then it showed me
the real him:

Comfortable in shadows.
Faithful to secrecy.
More committed to denial
than to me.

I covered my mouth —
not from shock,
but recognition.

“I knew,” I whispered.

“Yes,” the ghost replied.
“You always did.”

By morning,
there were no chains,
no dramatic hauntings —
just light.

And in that light,
he wasn’t mysterious.

He was clear.