Epilogue
Maya
The air in Graceland Cemetery was cool and damp, leaves crunching softly beneath Maya’s boots as she followed Theo down a narrow gravel path lined with old monuments and angel statues.
A light fog curled low to the ground, and the city sounds were faint here, almost muted as though the cemetery had carved out its own pocket of quiet in the heart of Chicago.
Theo adjusted the mic clipped to his sweater and glanced over his shoulder at her, smirking. “Still time to back out.”
And part of her wanted to… but the other part wanted to feel the thrill of doing something reckless on Halloween night.
Maya rolled her eyes, pulling her hoodie tighter. “Please. I’ve already survived an audit from the IRS… ghosts can’t touch me.”
“Brave words,” he teased, flipping on the portable recorder. “Okay, my dear. Welcome to your first Dead Airwaves episode: Halloween Edition.”
A small red light blinked on, and the soft static of the open channel crackled faintly as he tested the levels.
“It’s Halloween night in Chicago, and we’re walking through Graceland Cemetery, one of the oldest, most haunted burial grounds in the city.
” He flashed her a cheeky grin. “If you’ve been listening long enough, you know this isn’t my first time here.
But tonight’s different, because I’ve got a partner in crime. ”
He nodded to her.
Maya angled her head closer to the mic clipped on her sweater. “Hi, listeners, this is Maya Brooks. If something yanks me into the spirit realm tonight, just know that this man bribed me with tacos.”
“She insisted on the tacos, for the record.”
They stopped at a cluster of weathered headstones, shadows stretching long beneath the faint orange glow of nearby streetlamps. Theo crouched to set up a small EMF reader, the device blinking faintly. Maya held the portable recorder closer, keeping her voice low.
“So if this thing spikes,” she whispered, “we panic, right?”
Theo laughed darkly. “Absolutely not. We ask politely for names and intentions, because we’re professionals.”
“Mm-hm,” she hummed, narrowing her eyes. “And if the ghosts aren’t polite to us?”
“Then we bribe them with tacos, too.”
She stifled a laugh away from the recorder.
Theo lowered his voice to a near-whisper for the mic. “Local legends say this section of Graceland is restless. We’re standing at the boundary where the dead don’t settle. We’re going to test the electromagnetic field here, ask a few questions, and see if anything answers back.”
He tilted the recorder slightly toward Maya, arching a brow. “Your turn, Brooks. Talk to the ghosts.”
Theo studied the EMF reader so carefully that his face was illuminated by the faint green glow of the device. His brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he adjusted the sensitivity and tapped at a few buttons on his recorder.
There was no audience here, no family, no teasing Nate. Just Theo… sharp, patient, and completely focused.
And something in Maya’s chest twisted at the sight of him so caught up in his own adventure.
It hit her all at once. Despite the chill in the air, her skin warmed with comfort.
The steadiness he gave her, the way he’d taken care of her heart for the last few months, without asking for credit. How he’d shown up for her, not just in bed, not just on-mic, but in her life, in all the ways she hadn’t let anyone before.
Her throat went tight. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the recorder.
He looked up briefly, as if sensing her gaze, and offered her that soft, crooked smile before turning back to his instruments. That was it, the small kindness, the safety in his silence, that pushed her over the edge.
She leaned toward the mic, voice hushed and reverent.
“Hi, um… if anyone’s here with us, you’re safe. You’re not alone.”
She paused. Silence pressed in around them, their breath visible in the cold air.
And then, without thought, she whispered:
“…I love you.”
Theo’s brows furrowed before his gaze snapped toward her.
Maya froze, her eyes widening as the weight of the words caught up with her. “Wait. I meant—I was talking to the ghosts—”
Theo shook his head once. “Don’t,” he whispered, cutting her off. He shifted closer, the glow of his device illuminating her face as well. “Say it again.”
She blinked. “I—”
“Please,” he said, so softly it barely stirred the air. “Just once more.”
Maya swallowed hard, heart punching wildly against her ribs. And somehow, she found the courage to let herself breathe into the words this time.
“I love you,” she said again, steadier now, like a truth she was finally allowed to keep.
Theo’s lips parted on an exhale, his eyes soft and molten in the shadows. He leaned in until his forehead touched hers, the mic between them catching the faintest rumble of his reply:
“I love you too, Maya.”
For a moment, the cemetery around them went silent.
No wind, no shifting leaves, just the heavy thud of two matching heartbeats in the dark.