Elliot recovered first.

"You called me baby," he said softly.

Adrian touched his cheek. "Was that what I used to call you?"

"All the time. Especially when you wanted me to forgive you for something."

"Then I must have said it constantly."

Elliot smiled, but the expression didn't last. Adrian noticed a shadow pass through his eyes, the same one he'd seen whenever they talked about the years he couldn't remember.

They drove home after breakfast. Adrian tried to hold onto the warmth of their morning, yet an uneasiness followed him into the car.

He had begun to suspect that their marriage contained a story Elliot was afraid to tell.

At home, a courier delivered a narrow box addressed to Elliot. The return label carried the name of an expensive watchmaker.

"That's strange," Elliot said. "I didn't order anything."

Inside lay a watch with an engraved message: THREE YEARS, AND EVERY DAY I CHOOSE YOU. A card identified it as an anniversary gift from Adrian, delayed by a shipping error.

Elliot sat down abruptly.

Adrian read the card again. "Three years. Our anniversary was recently, wasn't it?"

"The day of your accident," Elliot said.

The words drained the warmth from the room. Adrian lowered the box onto the table.

"You were waiting for me," he said.

Elliot looked up sharply. "How do you know?"

"I don't. Not exactly. But every time someone mentions that day, you look as though you're waiting for bad news."

Elliot folded his hands. "We had dinner reservations. You were supposed to meet me at seven."

"Did I?"

"No."

Adrian waited. Elliot stared at the watch for a long time before continuing.

"I waited three hours. The restaurant staff were kind, which somehow made it worse. I kept telling them you were coming."

Adrian's stomach tightened.

"You were working," Elliot said. "There was a problem with a major client. You kept sending messages saying you'd be there soon."

"And I wasn't."

"At ten, I called you. We argued."

Adrian sat opposite him. "What did I say?"

"I don't remember every word. I was angry. You were defensive. I said I was tired of coming second to your company."

"You shouldn't have had to say it."

Elliot looked away. "I said maybe we needed some time apart."

Adrian felt as though the floor had shifted beneath him. "You wanted to leave?"

"I wanted you to hear me. I wanted us to change. I didn't know how else to say it."

"Then what happened?"

"You said you'd come immediately. I told you not to drive while upset."

Elliot's voice shook. "An hour later, the hospital called."

Adrian reached for his hand. Elliot pulled back, not in rejection but to wipe his eyes.

"I've replayed that call so many times," Elliot whispered. "If I'd waited. If I hadn't argued. If I'd just gone home."

"Elliot."

"You got in the car because of me."

"I got in the car because I made a decision," Adrian said. "The accident wasn't your fault."

"You don't remember."

"I remember enough to know you didn't cause it."

Elliot shook his head. Adrian didn't push. He moved his chair beside him and waited until Elliot reached for his hand.

They sat together in silence. Adrian wished he could offer a perfect explanation of the crash, but his memory held only fragments: headlights, wet pavement, the sound of a phone vibrating.

He refused to turn those fragments into a story he couldn't verify.

Later, Noah came over at Adrian's request. Elliot had gone upstairs to rest, leaving the watch on the dining table.

"Was I always this bad at showing up?" Adrian asked.

Noah glanced at the box. "You loved him. Nobody doubted that."

"That wasn't my question."

Noah sighed. "You were excellent at grand gestures. Less excellent at ordinary Tuesdays."

"Meaning?"

"You could organize a surprise weekend in Paris. But sometimes Elliot wanted you home for dinner, and you were still at the office."

Adrian rubbed his forehead. "Did anyone tell me?"

"Repeatedly. Including you, every time you promised to do better."

Adrian looked toward the staircase. He had spent days envying his former self for knowing Elliot so well. Now he saw the danger of romanticizing a man who had sometimes failed him.

"I thought getting my memory back would fix everything," Adrian said.

"It might help. But it won't do the work for you."

After Noah left, Adrian found Elliot in the small upstairs studio. Canvases leaned against the wall. An unfinished drawing showed a city street at dusk.

Elliot was trying to work, but his pencil hadn't moved.

"I talked to Noah," Adrian said.

"About us?"

"About the things I missed."

Elliot set down the pencil. "I'm not trying to punish you."

"I know. I'm trying to understand."

Adrian sat on the floor beside the drawing table. He didn't offer another expensive gift or promise a miraculous transformation by morning.

Instead, he asked what Elliot had needed on their anniversary. Elliot told him about the restaurant, the empty chair, and the speech he'd rehearsed on the way there.

He had wanted to say he was proud of Adrian's work. He had also wanted to ask for a life in which their marriage had room to breathe.

Adrian listened without interrupting. When Elliot finished, he admitted he couldn't undo the past.

"But I can show up now," he said. "Not just when it's dramatic. On ordinary Tuesdays."

Elliot gave a fragile smile. "It's Thursday."

"Then I'll start early."

He made them dinner that evening, simple pasta with too much garlic. Elliot ate at the kitchen counter while Adrian described his disastrous attempt to follow the recipe.

They laughed. For a while, the weight of the anniversary loosened.

Then Elliot saw the watch still lying in its box. He turned it over, reading the engraving again.

"He meant this," Elliot said quietly, speaking of the Adrian who had ordered it. "I know he did."

"I mean it now, too."

Elliot nodded, but tears gathered in his eyes. Adrian waited, knowing that reassurance couldn't erase three years of disappointments in a single evening.

Elliot finally looked at him and spoke so softly Adrian almost missed it.

When Elliot went upstairs, Adrian remained in the kitchen and opened his calendar. There were recurring meetings, project deadlines, and reminders to renew insurance. He searched for their anniversary.

A reminder appeared at seven in the morning: DINNER WITH ELLIOT. DO NOT MISS.

Adrian stared at the words. He had remembered enough to set an alarm and still failed to arrive.

He wanted to hate the man who'd done that. But the man was himself, and anger alone would not help Elliot.

He opened a new calendar event for the following week: DINNER AT HOME. PHONES OFF. He invited Elliot rather than assuming he'd be available.

When Elliot saw the invitation, he came downstairs holding his phone.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A proposal for dinner. Not an order. You can decline."

"You made it a recurring event?"

"Only if you accept the first one."

Elliot studied the screen. "You know a calendar notification doesn't make someone reliable."

"I know. Showing up does."

Elliot accepted the invitation. Adrian felt absurdly relieved.

They planned to cook together. Elliot chose the menu and Adrian volunteered to chop vegetables, a task that required no heroic purchases.

During dinner preparation, Adrian asked whether Elliot wanted to tell him about the anniversary restaurant. Elliot described the candles and the view over the river.

"I kept looking at the door," he said. "Every time it opened, I thought it was you."

Adrian stopped chopping. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"You don't have to forgive me tonight."

Elliot nodded, and they returned to the vegetables. Adrian understood then that an apology wasn't a magic trick. It was a beginning, followed by the ordinary work of doing better.

"Sometimes I wonder if you were happier before you remembered me."