Chapter 22 – Rehearsal of Ghosts
The auditorium was quiet again.
Not the expectant silence before a play. Not the nervous hush of an audience waiting for lights to dim. This silence was deeper, heavier. The kind that settled into the walls, into the old wood beneath Amelia's feet. The kind that came after someone you love disappears forever and the world just keeps turning.
She stood onstage alone. A single beam of light from the ceiling spotlighted the dust floating around her like snowflakes in slow motion. Her shadow stretched long behind her. Empty. Silent.
This was where it had begun—where she met David's eyes for the first time across the drama room. Where Ms. Parker handed out the script that would stitch their hearts together. Where laughter echoed between curtain calls and long, quiet nights memorizing lines neither of them could forget.
And this was where it would end.
Amelia looked down at the crumpled pages in her hand. They weren't part of any official play. Not anymore. These were pieces of him. Cut from David's journal. Words he never meant to speak aloud. Lines filled with fears and warmth and metaphors that made her feel like she was drowning in stars.
She had spent all night adapting it. Threading her own diary entries into his. Their truths now bound together, scripted like a monologue built from memory.
When Ms. Parker stepped out from the wings, Amelia didn't look up.
"He always hated being in the spotlight," Amelia whispered. "Said it felt like being stared at by the sun."
Ms. Parker folded her arms, her voice soft. "He always looked so calm under it, though."
"He was pretending," she said. "He always was."
Silence again. This time, not so heavy. Not so cruel. Just two people standing in the same wound.
"I'm not ready," Amelia admitted.
"You're not supposed to be," Ms. Parker said. "Grief isn't a scene you rehearse. You just... stand in it. Speak what's true. That's enough."
Amelia turned the first page. Her hands were still shaking. It didn't matter. Her voice didn't need to be perfect. Her tears didn't need permission.
"Can we try it?" she asked.
Ms. Parker nodded.
"I'll be your audience."
---
Amelia took center stage again. No costume. No makeup. No mask to hide behind.
Just her.
And him.
And the pages between them.
She inhaled. And then—
> "You once told me you'd never be remembered. That people forgot quiet kids. That silence made you invisible. But you were never invisible to me, David."
Her voice cracked. She didn't stop.
> "You were lightning behind clouds. Quiet. Inevitable. Every moment with you was a spark I didn't see coming."
She closed her eyes. Imagined his laughter. The way he tucked his hair behind his ears when he got nervous. The way he read his lines like he didn't know they were poetry.
> "When you didn't show up, I thought you'd just given up on us. I thought I didn't matter enough to stay. But I was wrong. You were just dying."
Silence.
> "And I was too stupid to see it."
Ms. Parker stood still in the darkness. She didn't move. Didn't breathe too loud. Just watched.
> "You gave me everything. Every breath. Every page. And I gave you a smile too late."
The tears came now. Hot. Heavy. But still, Amelia read.
> "But I'm here now. Our stage. Our story. Our goodbye. I'm saying it for the both of us."
She closed the script. Her chest ached.
"I'm gonna do it," she whispered. "I'm gonna act this. One last time. For him. For me."
Ms. Parker stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"He'd be proud."
Amelia shook her head slowly.
"No... he'd blush. And say I overdid it. Then he'd tell me I looked like I hadn't slept in days."
They both laughed, soft and bitter and full of love.
Amelia sat on the edge of the stage. Let her legs dangle over. Ms. Parker joined her. They sat there in silence for a while.
Until Amelia asked, "Do you think he knew I loved him?"
Ms. Parker looked at her gently.
"I think he hoped. Every word in that journal sounded like someone hoping they were enough to be loved back."
She didn't respond. Just nodded. Swallowed.
"I loved him," she said. "I love him."
Ms. Parker stood and smiled.
"Then say it."
---
The next week passed like a blur stitched together with late-night rehearsals and silent tears.
The performance was scheduled for Friday night. Ms. Parker pulled every string she could. Got the theatre reserved. Invited the community. Made sure the lighting team returned. Even brought back students from past shows to help set the stage.
But it was all Amelia's show.
She titled it "Never Stopped Smiling."
A one-act monologue.
Thirty-five minutes.
No costume changes.
No props.
Just her.
And David.
---
Friday came.
The theatre filled. Students. Parents. Strangers. David's parents sat in the front row, hands folded tightly, as if holding each other was the only thing keeping them from breaking.
Ms. Parker introduced the play with a few quiet words.
"A story of two people who learned how to be seen... through each other."
Then the lights dimmed.
And Amelia stepped onstage.
---
This time, there was no shaking in her voice.
She wasn't scared.
She wasn't angry.
She was full. Overflowing with something bigger than pain. Something deeper than grief.
Love.
And remembrance.
And a promise.
Every word she spoke felt like unearthing a time capsule. Every line like touching something eternal. She spoke about him. About his kindness. About the way he looked at her like she was art. About the way he died with her name in his diary and love in his lungs.
She cried once.
Laughed twice.
And then smiled.
For the final line, she looked straight into the spotlight.
> "If you're listening, David… I never stopped smiling."
Then she bowed.
The lights went out.
And a heavy thud.
Amelia Died,it wasn't tragic..but peaceful...