Flowers for My Grave

When I entered the house, Lucas was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead.

By his feet lay the bouquet I had prepared for him—a surprise that had long since withered beyond recognition.

Empty bottles of alcohol cluttered the table, their contents drained hours ago.

Lucas picked up his phone and dialed my number over and over again yet it would always go straight to voicemail.

He mumbled softly to himself, “Where did you go, Clara? Why aren’t you answering? You’ve always hated it when people don’t pick up their phones… Your medicine is still here with me…”

I sat beside him, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. “I’m right here. But you can’t see me anymore. You’ll never see me again.”

In the dead of night, his phone suddenly rang. The caller ID flashed the name: Ariana.

I looked away, my eyes brimming with tears.

He answered, “What is it?”

From the other end of the line, came Ariana’s voice. “Is Clara upset? Do you want me to help explain things?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll handle it myself.”

“Alright then, get some rest.”

After hanging up, Lucas drifted into a fitful sleep.

I sat quietly by his side, watching him.

I knew my time there was limited yet I wanted to spend my last moments gazing at the man I had loved so deeply.

Even when I needed him most, he was by someone else’s side.

In the middle of the night, Lucas’s phone rang again.

“Clara, you’re finally picking up. Where are you? I’ll come get you,” he answered groggily.

But a different voice responded. “Mr. West, it’s me.”

I recognized the voice of his assistant, Dennis Wayne—no doubt it was another work-related matter.

That night, I wandered through the entire house, room by room, lingering over every trace of my time with Lucas.

Those memories would soon vanish, just like me.

The next morning, Lucas left early.

I assumed he was headed to the office, but to my surprise, he drove south—toward the place where we first met.

I paused, startled. Why was he going there?

For three days, I followed him, watching as he revisited every place we’d been together, desperately searching for me.

But he had no idea that I was already gone, that I had died while he was at Ariana’s prenatal appointment.

Still, I couldn’t deny it anymore—Lucas did feel something for me.

Just as I was about to leave for good, I saw him take a familiar road. He was heading to my family’s house.

I did the math.

Troy would have already taken my body home by now.

So Lucas was about to learn the truth.

But... would he be sad?

On second thought, he had the right to know. After all, he was still my husband, at least in name. And part of me wanted to see his reaction—what would he feel when he found out?

When Lucas reached the front door, his eyes widened as he noticed the black mourning drapes hanging outside.

He froze. He was shocked.

For a moment, I thought I saw his hand trembling.

Troy opened the door, surprised to see him. They both stood there, stunned, for a few seconds.

Before Troy could stop him, Lucas bolted inside and rushed straight to the center of the living room.

There, I lay quietly in a casket among a sea of flowers, dressed in the purple dress he had always loved.

Only this time, my eyes were closed, never to see him again.

I couldn’t hold back my tears at the sight of my own body.

I stepped forward and gently brushed my hand over my face. The faint trace of tears still lingered on my skin.

Before I could fully process what was happening, Lucas lunged toward me, frantically clearing away the flowers around my body.

His voice was shaking, almost desperate. “Clara has asthma... there can’t be flowers in the house. The pollen will make her sick. Why would you surround her with flowers?”