The drive takes ninety-three minutes.
I count every one of them. Every red light, every slow driver, every mile marker ticking past like a countdown to something I'm not sure I'm ready for. My leg bounces against the seat. My hands grip the steering wheel too tight. The GPS keeps telling me to stay on this road for another forty-seven miles, and I keep wondering if I'm insane.
Three hours round trip. For a video game. For a voice.
For Ghost.
The VR club is in a strip mall between a laundromat and a nail salon — nothing like the sleek gaming lounges I've seen in ads. No neon lights or ergonomic chairs or ambient electronica. Just a hand-painted sign that says "VIRTUAL REALITY GAMING" and a parking lot with more potholes than pavement.
Inside, it smells like energy drinks and teenage desperation. Rows of gaming stations, half of them occupied by kids who should probably be doing homework. A bored guy behind the counter barely looks up when I pay for two hours.
"Booth seven," he says, sliding a headset across the counter. "In the back. More private."
I don't ask why he assumes I need privacy. I just take the headset and find booth seven — a cramped space with a worn chair and walls covered in old gaming posters.
This is it. This is where I find out if I've lost my mind.
I put on the headset.
Echo loads around me in layers. Sound first — the familiar ambient forest, distant water, wind through digital trees. Then light, painting the world I've missed so desperately it makes my chest ache. The stone bridge materializes in front of me, ancient and solid and exactly where I left it.
And Ghost.
Standing exactly where he always stands. Like he's been waiting for me every single day I've been gone.
"Siren."
His voice cracks on my name. Actually cracks, like something inside him is breaking.
"Where the hell have you been?" He moves toward me, his avatar's hands reaching for mine. "I thought — I thought something happened to you. I've been logging in every night. Every single night, Siren. Checking messages, waiting at the bridge, going out of my fucking mind —"
"I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate. Everything feels inadequate. "I'm so sorry, Ghost. I couldn't —"
"Two weeks. Two weeks of nothing. No message, no explanation, just gone." His voice shakes. "I thought you left. I thought I did something wrong. The Love Room, or — I pushed too hard, didn't I? I scared you off —"
"No." I grab his avatar's hands, holding tight. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. Listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then what happened?"
I tell him. Not everything — not Danny, not the rooftop, not the suspicion eating me alive — but enough. My parents showed up without warning. They found my grades. They found the headset. My father destroyed it. Crushed it under his heel like it was nothing, like five years of my life meant nothing.
"I've been locked out," I say. "No headset, no way to reach you. I'm at a gaming club right now, ninety minutes from home. It's the only way I could get back to Echo."
Ghost is quiet for a long moment. Processing.
"Your father destroyed your headset," he repeats slowly. "Because of your grades."
"Because of everything. Because I wasn't perfect. Because he could."
Another silence. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. Angrier. "I'm sorry, Siren. That's... that's fucked up."
"Yeah. It is."
"Are you okay?"
The question makes something crack in my chest. "I'm here, aren't I?"
We play together, falling into old rhythms. A quest in the forest zone, nothing too complicated, just movement and teamwork and the comfort of existing in the same digital space. But something feels different. Fragile. Like we're both walking on glass and trying not to look down.
I watch his avatar move through the quest — the broad shoulders, the dark hair, the way he fights like he's got something to prove — and I realize how little I actually know about him. A year of friendship. A year of intimacy. And I don't know his face, his name, his life outside this world.
We reach a clearing and stop to rest. His avatar leans against a tree, and I settle beside him, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
"Ghost?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something? About real life?"
He tenses. I feel it even through the game — the way his whole body goes still.
"Depends on the question."
"I just..." I pick at a piece of virtual grass. "I realized I don't know anything about you. Outside of this. And after disappearing for two weeks, I keep thinking about how fragile this is. How easily we could lose each other."
Silence stretches. The forest hums around us.
"What do you want to know?" he finally asks. Careful. Guarded.
"Where do you study?"
A pause. "Some shitty college I never wanted to attend. But it's what I could afford, so."
"Do you like it?"
"I like some of the classes. Hate the politics. Hate the way people look at me like they've already decided who I am." He laughs, but it's hollow. "You probably don't have that problem."
I let the jab slide. "What about outside school? What do you do?"
"Work, mostly. I fix things. Engines, bikes, whatever needs fixing." Another pause. "And I come here. That's pretty much my whole life, Siren. Work and Echo. Nothing glamorous."
"What do you look like?"
The silence stretches longer this time. When he answers, his voice is tight.
"Like someone you probably wouldn't want to date."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got."
I want to push. Want to ask why he's deflecting, why he's building walls, why every question I ask gets a vague answer that could mean anything or nothing. But I can feel him pulling away, brick by brick, and I'm scared that if I push too hard, he'll disappear entirely.
"Do you want to share contacts?" I try instead. "Phone numbers, or social media, or —"
"Not yet." His voice is sharp. Then softer: "I'm sorry. I'm just... not ready for that."
"Okay." I swallow my disappointment. "Okay. Whenever you're ready."
We sit in silence for a moment. The quest marker blinks in the distance, forgotten.
One more question burns on my tongue. I shouldn't ask. I know I shouldn't ask. But I can't stop myself.
"Ghost... do you have a girlfriend? In real life?"
The silence that follows is so long I start to wonder if he's still there. The forest hums with artificial wind. My heart pounds against my ribs.
"I don't have anybody," he finally says. "Not like that."
"Oh."
"But I have a girl that I love." His voice drops, rough and honest. "And I don't know if that's mutual."
My breath catches. My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
I want to ask who. I want to ask if it's me — if Siren is the girl he loves. I want to tell him that I love him too, that I've been falling for him for months, that the thought of losing him made me drive ninety minutes to a strip mall just to hear his voice again.
But before I can force the words out, a notification flashes in my vision.
Five minutes remaining.
"Shit." I scramble to my feet. "Ghost, I have to go. Five minutes left on my session."
"Already?" He sounds as devastated as I feel.
"I didn't want to just disappear again. I wanted to tell you — I'll be here. Same time next weekend. I promise."
"Siren —"
"I promise, Ghost. I'm not leaving you again."
A pause. Then, softer than I've ever heard him: "I'll be waiting. I'm always waiting for you."
The timer counts down. The world begins to fade — colors bleeding at the edges, sound going hollow. I want to tell him I love him. I want to ask if I'm the girl. I want to stay in this digital forest forever, where the only thing that matters is his voice and my heartbeat.
But the headset pulls me back to reality before I can say another word.
I sit in the dim booth, heart pounding, the smell of energy drinks and teenage sweat seeping back into my awareness.
He loves someone. A girl he's not sure loves him back.
Is it me?
And if it is — if I'm the girl Ghost loves — then I need to know who I'm falling for. A shitty college he never wanted. Fixing bikes and engines. People judging him before he opens his mouth.
The clues keep pointing in one direction. A direction I'm terrified to follow.
I drive home with more questions than answers, the ninety-three minutes stretching into infinity.