Keeley had been living with him for less than a week, and Aaron already missed her. Pathetic. It was just an overnight stay at her family home; nothing to worry about. But he missed her. She brought life into his apartment.

When he heard the elevator door open downstairs, he had to stop himself from running down to greet her. She probably wouldn't appreciate that. So he focused on his magazine and remained on the couch.

He planned to casually ask her about her time with her father, but then he saw her face. It was puffy, red-eyed, and streaked with tears.

Aaron immediately jumped up, barely restraining himself from reaching out. So much for playing it cool.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Keeley attempted a brave smile. "I guess there's no point in hiding it. Today's the anniversary of my mom's and Kaleb's deaths."

Oh. A pit formed in his stomach. He knew what that was like. June 16th, the day he lost her, was always the worst day of the year, until he'd been reborn. He was still burdened by memories on that date, but it didn't bother him as much because he knew she was alive somewhere.

"I'm so sorry," he said worriedly. "Um… do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?"

She walked forward and wrapped her trembling arms around him. He froze in shock. What was she doing?

"No, I'm the sorry one. I never realized… it must have been horrible for you after I died, and yet I was so nasty to you once you got me back. If I had the chance to meet either of them again, and they treated me the way I've treated you, I would have been destroyed," she sniffled. "Please forgive me."

What?! This wasn't right! She had nothing to be sorry for! Everything he'd experienced was the direct result of his own stupidity. Keeley's behavior toward him had been completely justified. He'd ruined her life.

"Don't apologize. You never have to apologize to me; I know I brought it all on myself," he mumbled guiltily, his arms tightening around her.

She sobbed into his shirt, and Aaron felt completely helpless. It seemed like, as usual, he was only making things worse.

He led her to the couch and sat her down before fetching tissues and water. She was probably dehydrated, judging by her eyes. She was crying too hard to accept his offerings, and he wasn't sure what to do.

Keeley desperately wiped at her eyes, but it made no difference. He gestured for her to scoot closer so he could put a comforting arm around her shoulders, but she surprised him by climbing onto his lap and burying her face in his neck.

His shirt collar quickly became soaked, but that was the last thing on his mind. Aaron was more preoccupied with the fact that the woman he loved willingly sat on him without being drugged.

He knew she was simply seeking comfort, but she wouldn't have done it to just anyone. She trusted him, however little that trust might be. All his efforts to be a good friend had paid off.

Aaron rubbed her back, unsure what else to do. He didn't have much experience comforting people. In fact, the only person he'd ever tried it on was Keeley, and she hadn't cried much. Or… she hadn't in their first life.

Either she was becoming more emotionally unstable, or she'd felt uncomfortable showing weakness in front of him then. He suspected the latter.

Even so, she was usually such a cheerful person. Seeing her cry was distressing.

He instinctively kissed her hair before freezing. That probably crossed a line. He relaxed after a few moments when she didn't react. Either she didn't notice or she didn't care.

Keeley snuggled closer as her sobs subsided, replaced by hiccups.

"…Do you want your water now?" he asked awkwardly.

She nodded, and he reached for it from the side table, careful not to jostle her. She took a sip before hiccuping again.

Several hiccups later, she scowled. "Stupid hiccups. I've had them on and off all day."

Probably because she'd been crying on and off all day, too. His heart ached for her. Loss was a funny thing. You could be doing perfectly fine, and it would hit you out of nowhere. It never fully left.

She took a deep breath before gazing into his eyes. "After going to the cemetery, we looked at old pictures and watched home videos… it was the videos that got to me most. I hadn't heard their voices in a couple of years."

Aaron didn't have many videos of Keeley. He wasn't the type to document things, and she'd pretty much stopped after they were married. The last pictures they took together were probably on their honeymoon. The few after that were professional photos from business functions.

The videos that did exist were short, silly, and usually didn't show her face. They were saved on her laptop and usually involved narrating what they were doing. He appeared in those videos more than she did.

But he understood what she meant about hearing their voices. Hearing Keeley's voice from beyond the grave—happier and less weary than in the last years of her life—always broke him. He only watched them when feeling particularly masochistic.

More often, he relied on pictures. Keeley took many when they were dating, even though he'd made her swear not to post them anywhere, fearing they'd reach his father.

She took pictures almost every time they went out, so he had many to choose from when he wanted to remember her smile. Not that he truly needed pictures—the image of his wife was forever imprinted on his brain.

The photos served as a physical reminder that he'd been happy once and lost it due to his poor choices. Aaron had struggled with extreme self-loathing ever since he lost her.

"I usually stuck to pictures," he admitted. "The only videos I really had just had your voice and showed me on camera. I didn't want to see my own stupid, emotionless face."

She let out a strangled laugh, instantly contrite. "Sorry, it's just… that's a really good way to describe it, but I didn't expect it from you."

He sighed. He really had been an idiot. Would it have killed him to smile at his wife more?

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