Ghosted Synonym Novels & Stories

Pure shook her head: “I still don’t know the meaning of that weird dream, but I know the baby is crossbred of the phoenix and the unicorn.” “ Crossbreed?”- Lowen muttered: “This is so weird… I mean this can’t happen, I think they will never let a crossbred baby be born.” Rojana agreed, he analyzed seriously: “Unicorn and Phoenix are neither friends nor enemies, so this can’t happen.” “I know that can’t happen, but let’s see, Pure is never wrong, or maybe she is getting weaker..”- Erono said. “You mean I am weaker?” “No no!” said Erono. But Pure didn’t care too much about him, she told everyone to come to the meeting room, and wait for the others.

"The transfer was interrupted at ninety-nine percent, Elena. The feedback loop from the server meltdown fried the uplink. You’re... you’re clear." "Am I?" Elena looked at her hands. They were bandaged, but through the gauze, she could see a faint, flickering shimmer under her skin like a vein of violet light that refused to go out. "I can still feel the 'Successor' code, Alexander. It’s not a voice anymore. It’s just... a part of my OS." "The doctors call it 'Neural Ghosting,'" Alexander said, his voice dropping. "It will fade. Or it won't. But Silas... Silas won't be coming for you again."

My thumb hovered over Christian’s name. It’s not like I hadn’t thought about calling. Or texting. Or screaming into the void. But what would I even say? ‘Thanks for ghosting me like a college ex’? I took a breath and typed. Me: You left, Christian. Again. Not a word, no goodbyes. It’s on you this time. My fingers hovered over the send button for a moment too long before I hit send. No fanfare. No confetti. Just a soft whoosh and the sudden silence that followed it. Then I shoved the phone back into my pocket like it weighed a thousand bricks. Like he did.

I would give her that credit. "I am aware that a letter came from Grace Inc., but I still don't understand what this is all about." I raised my glass of wine to my lips and watched the woman's face slowly take on a red hue. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, probably calling in her patience. "The problem was that we didn't get a response. There was no letter or email, nothing. We were... ghosted." I took another swing of my drink. Then it appears that you have your answer. We don't want to do business with you."

The tie was nowhere to be seen, and a couple of buttons on his shirt were undone. We locked eyes for a moment as he stepped fully into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and turning the lock. “You sure have a knack for ghosting people don't you?” His voice deep and tough, like he had just woken up from a long sleep. I rolled my eyes and turned back to straining my dress. Not caring that my breast was on full display. “Ghosting people? No, Ghosting assholes, Yes” He fell quiet for what felt like ages, running his fingers through his hair. “I'm sorry. I'd rather you punch me than act like I'm not even here. You didn't read any of my texts and ignored my calls, Ana.”

If she is not here, where the fuck is she? “Thank you,” I say, walking away and entering my car. I grip the steering wheel and then slam my hands against it as my phone rings. Retrieving it from the inside pocket of my jacket, I answered without looking. “I heard you had a tough night,” I hear Ghost say on the other side of the line. The man knows me better than anyone and knows I am ready to punch someone’s brains out. “I’ve got a space to be filled tomorrow night. Are you interested,” he says.

“I'm more talkative than he is, and it's not because I enjoy talking, I just don't want people seeing me for what I truly am.” “And what truly are you?” Ghost exhaled a shaky breath, the corners of his eyes twitching uncomfortably. “One day Ginevra, you’ll discover the real me and you’ll loathe me.” He sounded regretful, torn, and confused. My understanding of the implication of his statement caused me not to push further for more answers. Nodding my head, I muttered, “you say you’re talkative, but you said not a word when you knew your boss was coming after me.”

Ghost’s voice, weak but alive: “…Still here…”

The silence after I sent the text was heavy. A thick, suffocating quiet that seemed to swallow the whole room. I stared at the phone lying on the bed, willing it to buzz, to light up with a reply. Anger? Pleading? Something. Nothing. The bond, that quiet hum of connection that had felt so peaceful just hours ago, was now a dull, persistent ache. Not the sharp, tearing pain of before, but a deep, hollow throbbing. A ghost limb, still feeling the phantom touch.

Guess this is the divine version, minus the bond. “I mean, great—we’ve narrowed it down to four impossible places to reach,” Nathan snaps. “And the one guy who can get us in has ghosted us for weeks!” I wince. Not at what he said—but how. His voice is full of gravel and knives. But to their credit, none of the gods retaliate. Instead, there’s a pause while the elder gods confer—apparently trying to figure out what “ghosted” and “MIA” mean. “Missing in action,” Selene offers, deadpan. “It’s a military term. Human slang.”