Keeley gave Aaron a genuine smile, thanking him as she left his car. His help that day was the kindest, most genuinely helpful thing anyone had ever done for her. She would have been in serious trouble without him.

It was sad that the person she'd depended on most had let her down so often when she truly needed him. Now that she was self-sufficient, he somehow always seemed to know when she needed help and came to the rescue.

If he'd always been like this, she wouldn't have fallen out of love with him.

That was a moot point now. She had fallen out of love with him, and too much had happened for her to ever love him again, no matter how kind he was. Still, it was a pity.

She returned to her paper and finished it forty minutes before midnight. Her grade would have suffered without Aaron's quick thinking, and she was grateful.

He had his good points. Sometimes.

Aaron had been sitting in his office, waiting for the day to end. Alistair had been on his case again about his nonexistent fiancée when Keeley texted.

Her distress seemed genuine, so he acted immediately. He'd promised to be there whenever she needed him, and she certainly needed him that day. Her anxiety was proof enough.

It had been extremely gratifying when she jumped into his arms, calling him the best. In that moment, he almost felt like they were back in college. He couldn't help but smile.

She seemed truly appreciative, a far cry from her usual begrudging gratitude. Maybe his sincerity was getting through to her. Or maybe not.

This was the least guarded he'd seen her in a while, making him realize he didn't know her as well as he thought. She did cartwheels! He'd known her for decades—they'd lived together for eight years—and he'd never known she could do cartwheels.

She said she did them occasionally to keep the skill. Had she only done them in this life, or had he simply never seen her do them, even when they were married? He'd worked a lot of overtime back then.

What did he know about her? Most of his information seemed to come from their second life. He hadn't paid close enough attention in their first.

Back then, his understanding of her boiled down to knowing that she liked trying new things, was a bit clumsy, kind-hearted, stubborn, loved her dad, and watched a lot of TV. Pretty pathetic for a thirteen-year relationship.

Everything he'd learned about her since being reborn had been true in their first life, and he'd been too dense to see it. She was fiery, passionate, intelligent, independent, a bit goofy, and brave.

Keeley had lost so much before he met her, in such a traumatic way, and yet she was always smiling. If that wasn't bravery, he didn't know what was.

Without feeling the need to impress him, she'd finally shown her true self. He'd missed out on enjoying her personality for all those years. She'd spread her wings without him and was soaring far above who she'd been.

What about him? Having thoroughly messed up with her, he was left in the dust. No matter how hard he tried to make things right, she would always keep her heart guarded.

Aaron wished things were different. He wasn't even sure what kind of different he wanted. Starting over from scratch would be nice. Or if she could find it in herself to love him again.

That was the biggest difference between one life and the next. Keeley definitely didn't love him anymore. She neither wanted nor needed him. He was inconsequential to her, but to him…she was everything.

He'd taken her pure, naive love for granted, and now it was gone. He wasn't altruistic—a big part of why he insisted on being good to her, even after she'd clearly rejected him, was that he wanted her to need him.

If he was always there when she needed something, she might grow to depend on him. Dependency wasn't love, but if it kept him in her life, he'd take it. He couldn't bear to lose her completely again.

Aaron worried what would happen after Cameron's wedding. His chances to see her would decrease dramatically. Today had been unusual; she almost never called out of work.

In the past few months, she'd only contacted him to say she didn't need food (to avoid wasting money and the delivery person's time) and when she thought he was engaged to Lacy Knighton.

What about after she finished school in December? He wouldn't even have the excuse of sending her food then.

New York was a big city. She could easily disappear. Even worse, she could leave entirely. He didn't think she would, since she loved it so much, but still…if pushed, she could pick up and go anywhere.

Being in a different city from her for four years had nearly driven him mad. It was comforting knowing she was within driving distance. He couldn't handle that again.

If love wasn't possible, he'd settle for friendship. If friendship wasn't possible, he'd settle for dependency. At the very least, Aaron needed to stay on the periphery of her life.

He knew she didn't consider him a friend anymore. When she talked about her birthday plans, she didn't leave any openings for him. She didn't want him there. She was only making him dessert because she felt indebted and hated owing people.

Keeley didn't care about him, and it killed him.

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