The first few days living with Aaron were strange. Keeley tried her best to avoid him, but she wasn't always successful. She needed to catch her subway before he left for work, but she invariably ran into him downstairs as he ate breakfast.

He sipped his coffee and put on his tie, just as he had when they were married. It was unsettling. He always greeted her with a gentle "Good morning" and asked if she'd slept well. This was markedly different from their married life.

The juxtaposition of the familiar and unfamiliar was jarring. She would return his greeting, saying, "Great, thanks," and grab a yogurt or bagel on her way out, after quickly drinking the coffee he'd made.

Her days in the lab were normal, and she craved that consistency. She ate vending machine sandwiches, collected data, and observed the lab animals. She spent far more time staring at rats and mice than anyone should.

When Keeley returned home, Aaron was usually in the living room with one or both cats. He'd ask about her day, and she'd give a brief summary while preparing dinner.

After dinner, she avoided him, holing herself up in the entertainment room, swimming downstairs, or reading on the terrace.

Running into him in the halls happened occasionally, and she tried to act naturally, but it didn't always work. The strangest thing was his unconcealed happiness at seeing her.

When they were married, he'd been an ice block. Even before he deliberately started ignoring her, he acted indifferent to her presence, despite often being nearby. A warm Aaron was far stranger than a cold one.

Around 8 PM, Keeley was curled up with Molly in the entertainment room, watching a cooking competition show, when he knocked. She gave him a quizzical look. It wasn't the bathroom; he didn't need to knock. It was his house.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I got some ice cream downstairs. I thought you might want some."

"Okay," she replied, that wasn't too strange. "What kind?"

"Ben & Jerry's. I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I may have gotten four different flavors…"

She couldn't suppress her laughter. "Well, at least we'll be stocked up for a while. What did you get?"

"Half Baked, Cherry Garcia, Peanut Butter Cup, and Strawberry Cheesecake."

Keeley sighed in relief. "Those are all good. At least you didn't get any Chunky Monkey."

Aaron frowned. "Why would I? You're allergic to bananas."

He remembered that? She'd mentioned it only once, in college. He'd been about to kiss her after eating a banana, but she'd stopped him to avoid an allergic reaction.

"Well, yeah, but it's a popular flavor. I thought you might have gotten some for yourself," she said weakly, unwilling to insult him by implying he'd forgotten.

He shook his head. "I'm not taking any chances. You had a hospital visit because of it once, so I cut bananas out of my diet."

That had happened when she was ten, after someone at school gave her banana bread without warning. She didn't have an EpiPen back then, so she needed hospital treatment. But how did Aaron know that story?

She raised an eyebrow, and he clarified, "Your dad mentioned it once."

Her dad was a blabbermouth. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd embarrassed her. But when had that happened? He hadn't seen her father much in this life, so she guessed it was from their previous life. Aaron had a surprisingly good memory, but it was a remarkably specific detail to recall.

It reminded her of something he'd said in high school—"I notice everything about you." Back then, she'd wondered if that applied only to this life or the last. This confirmed the latter.

Keeley wasn't sure how to feel. He'd occasionally been attentive, but silently so. When they were dating, he'd just happen to have bandages, a snack, or something else she needed, without comment.

She wanted to ask, but decided against it. She was about to pause the show to get ice cream when Aaron stopped her.

"I'll bring it to you. Which flavor, and how much?"

"Half a pint of Cherry Garcia, please."

He returned with two bowls a few minutes later, looking almost sheepish.

"Do you mind if I watch with you?"

It was his house; she couldn't object. And he'd brought her ice cream, so she felt generous.

"Go ahead."

"So, what's this show about?" he asked, settling beside her on the enormous couch-bed.

Keeley patiently explained the premise and the rounds. It was her favorite show, because of the bizarre ingredients the chefs had to use to avoid disqualification.

They sat companionably, eating ice cream as the show progressed. She nearly knocked over her bowl when a contestant started making vinaigrette with less than thirty seconds remaining.

"You idiot! You're not going to get it on the plate!" she yelled, dramatically clutching her head.

Aaron looked up, startled, then burst out laughing—a genuine, deep laugh she hadn't heard since college.

She blushed crimson and apologized. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"

He laughed harder at her panicked reaction to the ice cream bowl. She scowled. "What's so funny?"

"I think I finally understand why you never wanted me to know what you were watching. It wasn't the shows themselves; it's because you think the people on TV can hear you," he chuckled.

"It's instinctive," she said defensively, crossing her arms.

He'd known about her reality TV obsession all along. Why hadn't he said anything?

She hadn't told him, fearing ridicule. He only watched the news. Reality TV was the opposite of that. Many considered it mindless, and she assumed he'd share that view and tease her, as he had about many things back then. He was much better about that in this life, although it still happened occasionally.