She leans forward and grips her forehead. “Leeds. All these memories of you and Layla meeting here. The kiss in the pool, the song you played for her . . . is that me? Are these my memories?”

I can’t say anything. I just watch her as she grapples with the same realization I’m grappling with.

I think back on the last several months of my life, and how I felt like so much changed in Layla. It’s like she became a different person after that surgery.

She did.

She was a completely different person. Her entire personality changed; the way I felt about her changed. And now that I’m looking back on it, there are even similarities between the Layla who woke up from the surgery and the Sable I dated. Sable had bulimia. Layla became obsessed with her weight after surgery. Sable was obsessed with social media, and . . . me. Layla became obsessed with building my platform. Sable suffered from a number of mental illnesses, and the more days that passed after Layla’s surgery, it seemed like Layla was starting to suffer from those same mental illnesses. And the day we arrived here, I knew it was Layla who punched that mirror. I didn’t understand why she’d do it, but I knew she did it.

When Layla woke up from that surgery, she was not the same girl I fell in love with.

But all the things I loved about Layla in those first couple of months of knowing her are the exact same ones I started to notice in Willow. Her personality, her mood, her playfulness, the familiarity in the way she kissed, her strange and random facts. I used to tell Layla she was like a morbid version of Wikipedia.

That’s also one of the things I recognized and liked about Willow.

That triggers another memory that should have been an obvious clue.

“On the bed, upstairs,” I say to Willow. “The night you were watching Ghost. I said, ‘You are so strange.’ But I also said that to you when I first met you. Because . . . I was fascinated by you and enamored with you, and then when I met Willow, she felt so familiar, and . . .”

I can’t finish my sentence because it feels like the cinder block that has been weighing down on my chest has just lifted.

I no longer feel like I’m falling out of love with Layla, because I’ve been falling in love with her this whole time in Willow.

Layla is Willow, and now that I’m looking at her, I have no idea how I didn’t see it before tonight.

I take her face in my hands. “It is you. This whole time I’ve been falling back in love with you. The same girl I fell in love with the moment I saw you dancing like an idiot on the grass in the backyard.”

She laughs at the memory—a memory she owns. A memory we share together. A memory that doesn’t belong to Sable.

A tear rolls down her cheek, and I wipe it away and pull her to me. She wraps her arms around me. I had no idea how much I missed her until this very second. But I’ve missed her so much. I missed what we shared in the first two months we were together. I’ve missed her since the night she was shot.

I’ve had this constant hollow feeling inside me since that night, and for so long I’ve felt guilty for feeling that way. For feeling like I lost her when she was still right in front of me. I even felt guilty for the way Willow reminded me of her.

That guilt is gone now. I feel justified. Every choice I made . . . every feeling Willow filled me with . . . it was all justified, because my soul was already in love with hers. It’s why I felt an inexplicable pull to this place. To Willow. Even when I thought Willow was Sable, I still felt that pull, and it confused me.

It all makes sense now.

I press my lips to hers and I kiss her. I kiss Layla. As soon as she kisses me back, I feel everything I used to feel when I would kiss her. Everything I thought I’d lost. It’s right here. It’s been here all along.

I keep touching her face between kisses, amazed to finally see it. It’s why there was such a huge difference every time Willow would take over Layla. It’s why Willow seemed more comfortable and confident in Layla’s body. It’s because it was hers all along. It never belonged to Sable. Sable has seemed uncomfortable in it since the day she woke up from surgery.

Willow is smiling through her tears when she says, “This explains why I was so relieved when you showed up here, Leeds. It was because I missed you, even though I couldn’t remember you.” She kisses me again, and I never want to let go of her.

But something tears us apart anyway. The sound of the front door slamming shut.

I look over my shoulder, and the man is no longer standing in the kitchen.

We both rush out of the kitchen and to the front door.

“Wait!” I say, running after him. He’s climbing into his truck by the time I reach him. “Where are you going?”

“You don’t really need me anymore. You found your answer.”

I shake my head. “No. No, we didn’t. You have to fix it now. Sable is still in the wrong body. Layla is still stuck in nothing.” I wave my hand toward Layla. “Switch them out.”

The man looks at me pityingly. “I find answers, but that doesn’t always mean there are solutions.”

I try to remain calm, but I want to strangle him for that response. “Are you kidding me? What are we supposed to do? There has to be a way to fix this!”

He starts the truck and closes his door. He rolls down the window and leans out of it. “Only one soul can lay claim to a body. Sure, Layla is able to slip into her old body, but it’s only temporary. Like a possession. You’ll never be able to get Sable out of Layla’s body. Not until she dies, at least. But when that happens, they’ll both be dead.” He starts to roll up his window, but I frantically beat on the glass. He rolls it halfway down. “Look. I’m sorry this happened to you guys. I really am. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to figure out a way to live like this until the three of you move on for good.”

I take a step back. “That’s your advice? To leave Sable tied to a bed for the rest of our lives?”

He shrugs. “Well, Sable kind of brought it on herself, if you ask me.” He puts the truck in reverse. “Maybe you should let Sable leave, and you can stay here with Layla’s spirit.”

I’m so angry at that advice I kick the door of his truck, leaving a dent. I kick it again. I want to scream.

The man rolls his window all the way down and leans over the door. He sees the dent. “Now, don’t do that to Randall’s truck. He’ll be confused enough when he wakes up at work and can’t remember what happened to half his night.” He puts his cap back on and slowly begins to back out of the driveway. “A human dies every second, and they don’t always die the right way. I have a lot more people to help.” He raises a hand in the air. “I’ll keep in touch online. Sure would like to see how you two work this one out.”

He turns his truck around in the driveway.

We watch him in silence until he’s gone. Until it’s just the two of us.

He really was just here to give us answers. Nothing more and nothing less.

I’m full of a frustration that can’t be settled, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve been given clarity. It’s like the strand of hair that’s been strangling my heart finally broke loose and it’s beating that out-of-control, irregular beat again that only Layla’s presence can create.