1. Leyland Graham

Leyland Graham

“You always paint me so well,” my wife murmured from behind me.

The warm scent of her favorite perfume emanated throughout my workspace as she settled in to watch.

Clementine Warren-Graham was my soulmate.

We’d gotten married six months ago after three years of dating.

I knew the moment I laid eyes on her at a charity gala that she would change my life for the better.

“You don’t think I should touch up your cheekbones?” I queried as I stroked the canvas with my brush, layering her brown skin until it matched her unique shading.

She was a mixture of coppers and dark browns, tall with slender fingers made to play the piano. Her eyes mirrored a moonless night—so dark they reflected the purity of her soul for everyone to see.

I saw her for who she was, even the small imperfections she tried so hard to hide. Those were my favorites: the tiny scar above her right eyebrow from falling off her bike at ten, or the sunspots at the tip of her nose that resembled freckles after forgetting to put sunscreen on in the middle of the hottest summer Texas had ever had.

As she leaned her head over my shoulder to take in the masterpiece I called Evergreen, the warmth of her skin filled me with peace.

This is where I was meant to be.

“It’s perfect, Leyland,” she murmured close to my ear. “Now that you’ve got it right, it’s time to wake up.”

She shoved me forward before my mind could register what was transpiring, driving me into a stark white place that felt hollow and void.

Low murmurs turned to loud shouts as I opened my eyes and squinted at the faces around me.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Leyland Graham,” my mother cursed. “You had me scared to death.”

I blinked a few times and cleared my throat, confused by the pain in her voice.

A swarm of nurses entered the room, and my reality slowly came into view.

How did I end up in the hospital?

“Mr. Graham, do you know where you are?”

I frowned but nodded while looking between my parents.

She asked more questions while informing me I’d been in a car accident that caused a little swelling on my brain, forcing them to put me into an induced coma. Though shocked by the revelation, I couldn’t focus on anything but the absence of my wife.

“Where’s Clementine?” I asked.

My parents looked at one another, wearing concerned expressions that didn’t make sense. I only wanted to know where my wife was.

“Leyland, who’s Clementine?” my father asked gently, moving around the bed.

“What do you mean?” I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my abdomen stopped me. “She’s my wife. How don’t you know?”

“Your wife?” my mother murmured, looking from me to the nurse. “When will the doctor be in?”

“Dr. Roker is in surgery but—”

“What’s going on?” I questioned, a sense of dread filling my stomach. “Did something happen to Clementine? Was she... Was she in the car with me when I crashed?”

The idea of unintentionally harming the love of my life made my heart race.

My skin burned with the need to see her face, to feel her skin against mine again.

The monitors at my bedside started to beep incessantly, and I could hear my parent's frantic voices as my vision blurred.

“Clementine,” I murmured before everything went dark.

“Why would he think he’s married?”

My mother’s voice was just above a whisper as she spoke, slowly rousing me.

“I don’t know, but we need to be here for him when he wakes up , ” my father spoke just as gently. “Did you hear the despair in his voice?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting the nightmare to be over.

Wasn’t I married?

It felt so real.

Her touch .

Her scent .

Her laughter .

She’d been real, I feel it.

“Knock, knock, I’m Dr. Warren,” a voice I knew all too well, followed by a smell I could never forget. “Dr. Roker asked me to come down and check on your son on his behalf.”

I forced myself to stay silent, hoping that she was real—that this wasn’t another cruel joke.

“Dr. Warren, thank you for checking in. I’m Georgina, and this is Leyland Senior.”

I imagined a subtle nod with a warm smile attached from Clementine as the sound of running water filled the room.

“I understand you have some concerns about his head trauma and some of the long lasting effects. I’ve looked at his chart and believe your son will make a full recovery. He might be lethargic or confused for a while, but nothing time and proper rest can’t fix.”

As her soft fingers brushed the skin of my forehead, I found myself slowly opening my eyes to see if it was her.

Those beautifully dark irises I’d fallen in love with met mine, and a sense of relief filled me. Noting the tiny scar and smattering of sun spots, I smiled.

“Clementine,” I called softly, reaching up to touch her face only for her to pull away.

Her eyes were wide before she schooled them.

“Leyland, this is Dr. Warren, not Clementine,” my father said sternly. “Clementine doesn’t exist. You were never married.”

I ignored him, gaze pinned to the woman who had been in my head and heart—the woman I married just six months ago.

“Is your name Clementine Warren?”

“Leyla—”

She nodded, and my mother went silent, the reprimand on her tongue dying with the confirmation that I wasn’t completely losing it.

“But we aren’t married,” she said, sweet but firm. “The body and mind are complex things. You were in an induced coma for a week and a half. Give your body time to heal, and your mind will follow.”

She smiled, but the wariness dancing in her eyes didn’t match what she wanted to convey.

I knew in my heart that she was my Clementine and watched her every move.

“Are you married?” I asked after noticing the large diamond ring on her finger. “That ring doesn’t fit your personality.”

It wasn’t anything like the vintage green moss agate I’d gotten her.

She looked down at her hand and slipped it off as if she hadn’t realized it was there.

“Sorry about that. I forget about it sometimes.”

I glanced at my parents, who were closely watching us interact.

“Dr. Roker will be in soon to go over your chart in more detail,” she went on, ignoring my inquiry. “Do you mind if I listen to your heart before I go?”

I nodded.

“You can always listen to what belongs to you,” I muttered low enough for only her to hear as she leaned in to press the bell of her stethoscope to my chest.

With eyebrows furrowed, she met my gaze and held it.

“Sounds good… at ease,” she murmured before switching the bell to my back. “Take a deep breath.”

I followed her command, and she hummed.

“You sound a little congested, but nothing to be too concerned about. I expect you to rest as much as you can.”

Our eyes met again, and I wanted so badly to get lost in her, to make up for the missed time. How had I dreamt up a three-year relationship that led to marriage in only a week and a half? Was it possible?

She turned to leave, and I fought to keep my mouth closed.

“Clement—Dr. Warren,” I called, losing the battle with myself.

Clementine turned with the most tumultuous look in her eyes.

“It was nice to meet you.”

She smiled and nodded.

“Take care of yourself. No more driving after a long day of work.”

I watched until she disappeared and shut my eyes to reel myself in.

“I guess it was all a dream,” I muttered.

“Or maybe it was fate,” my mother said, speaking for the first time since Clementine confirmed her name.

I sighed, relieved to hear they didn’t think I was losing my shit but saddened by the happiness I felt being fabricated.

“Yeah, maybe so.”

Fate had a way of shaking up your life when you least expected it.

Now what was I supposed to do?