Part 3My Dead Boyfriend

I didn’t understand what Jessica meant by a curse. I numbly picked up the photos she’d dropped. Ethan’s bright smile stared back at me from the first few pictures, taken freshman year. I remembered exactly what he was doing in each one.

Then I saw photos from his high school days, pictures I’d never seen before. I tried to piece together the boy he was before I knew him.

Suddenly, I flipped to a photo of a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Didn’t look much like Ethan. I didn’t pay much attention and flipped again. Same boy. Confused, I kept going. The next dozen photos were all of this kid, from childhood up to his teens.

I looked closer. There was… maybe a flicker of Ethan in the eyes, the shape of the jaw?

A wild thought started forming in my mind. Could this boy be Ethan?

No way.

Ethan was the campus heartthrob, classically handsome. This kid in the photos… objectively speaking, even by normal standards, he wasn’t attractive at all.

Then I found another photo: the boy being held by his mother. She was stunning, a vibrant beauty with a radiant smile, but you could see one of her legs seemed… off, maybe disabled. In contrast, the boy in her arms looked miserable, practically scowling.

Was this Ethan’s mother? Was this awkward, unhappy kid really him?

Jessica’s words echoed in my head. The drowning deaths… the curse… I felt a wave of goosebumps. What had Ethan been hiding from me? Three years together, and suddenly, I felt like I didn’t know his past at all.

The mystery of Ethan’s secrets pulled at me, but I had no leads. Life had to go on, somehow.

With Ethan gone, I started to change. I began avoiding spicy food, like him. I caught myself mimicking his little habits, the way he’d run a hand through his hair. I finally started focusing on my studies, really applying myself. It wasn't as hard as I thought. If Ethan could see me now, hitting the books, he’d be so happy.

I held onto Ethan’s phone like a lifeline, scrolling through his old messages, his posts. Every chat with his friends, every casual comment, radiated his love for me.

Today, scrolling through his social media feed, I noticed someone strange. Their profile picture was just a single period: "." No name, just the punctuation mark. Their latest post was simple text: Third month without you. I miss you so much.

A weird feeling washed over me. It felt like it was meant for Ethan.

I’d never seen this profile before. Ethan hadn’t tagged them or interacted publicly.

On impulse, I clicked on their profile. It was filled with posts, almost daily entries, pouring out grief and longing for someone lost.

I scrolled back, further and further. Then I saw it. A photo. It was Ethan. Standing by Whisper Creek, looking out over the water. It looked like a candid shot, taken from nearby. The timestamp: September 7th, 9:48 PM. The night he died.

My heart pounded. This meant someone else was there after Jessica left.

I opened a direct message. Who are you?

No reply. Silence.

Frustrated, I went back to scrolling through their feed, desperate for clues. The feed was almost entirely about Ethan. Pictures of him on campus, in the library, laughing with friends. Some scenes felt familiar… too familiar. Scenes where I had been with him. But I wasn't in these photos. Just Ethan.

It felt like this person was a stalker. Someone I probably knew.

Then it hit me. I looked closer at the photos where the background was clearer. There was a common denominator in many of the pictures taken when I was also present. Someone else was often there too: my other roommate, Megan Riley.

Megan came from a small rural town. She was always shy, timid, kind of faded into the background. I was pretty much the only one in the dorm who made an effort to befriend her.

When Jessica used to lock me out, it was always Megan who eventually let me in. Over time, she became my closest friend in the dorm. She didn’t have many other friends, so sometimes, when Ethan and I went out, I’d invite her along.

Megan was pretty in a quiet, mousy way, very introverted. Plenty of guys had asked her out over the years, but she’d always said no. I used to wonder why she never dated.

Now I knew. Megan was in love with Ethan. And I’d had absolutely no idea. She must have added him using this anonymous account way back freshman year. I could tell it was her style, her quiet obsession. Ethan must have known too. Why didn’t he ever tell me? A sickening thought crept in: Was Ethan cheating on me?