Sassi takes a sip of her water. “Good night.” Her tall silhouette floats out of the room.

“This is all too much,” my voice is breathless.

“I know,” Arek agrees.

After a few moments, I pass him, my shoulder brushing his. Yet his hand reaches out and stops me. My heart flips from the way his eyes stare into mine. This feeling in my chest is strangely addictive.

“There is no way to stop your mind. It is healing, just as your body did. I can’t control it. But it’s my job to protect you. And I will.” There is hesitation, then he continues, “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Without any more words, we slowly wander through the dark halls, back to the room that started everything. A thousand moments forgotten has turned into a thousand questions in my mind.

“So that’s why it was you?” I ask.

“What?”

“You’ve been watching me because I am your wife.”

“Yes.” We reach out at the same time to open the door, and I lay my hand on his. He looks at me.

“But after so many years? Why? Why didn’t you just go on with your life?” I ask.

Unexpectedly, his guard drops. “You’ll always be my wife.”

He stares at me as he pushes the door open to the room. A telling look spreads across his face and my curiosity is overwhelming. “What?” I ask.

“The hardest part was being invisible. Still . . .” He is quiet for a few moments, yet his words don’t seem as calculated as before. “Many times, we would laugh that even though you were Willow, Remy still showed up.”

He wanders over to the dresser and sits on the edge.

“She’s still here—in me?”

“A bit. We watched the way you took care of Rick.” My eyes widen and he nods. “No normal child can kick their mother’s boyfriend out of the house when their mother hasn’t the guts to. Kilon and I had just been discussing our plan to get rid of the guy when I see his clothes flying out the window.”

My voice comes out resilient, a broken child winning just once. “I knew the only thing he would chase was his Super Bowl ring. He didn’t follow his clothes, so I had to chuck the ring.”

Arek smiles, “We didn’t know your plan until he tried to get back in and you had already locked the main door to the apartment building. Then a few minutes later, the cops showed up.”

“George helped me.”

“The front doorman?”

“Yeah.”

“He is a nice old man,” Arek agrees.

My head drops to the side with curiosity. “Is? He can’t be alive still.”

Arek rubs the back of his neck when he shrugs his shoulders. “We had to post him somewhere else. As a Velieri, you must move around quite a bit, or you run the risk of someone finding out your age. A group called the CTA, Correctional Territory Authority, manages relocation and helps Velieri start again.”

“George is alive?” I laugh.

“And will be for quite a while.”

On the window seat is a folded blanket that I grab and throw around my shoulders. The introduction to this world is still so hard to believe.

“My first steps, the first time I drove a car . . .” I list off to him.

He finishes my thoughts, “When you broke your arm, the first time you lost a pet, the sadness . . . the happiness. . . All of it. We were there.”

“My first kiss.” I breathe out and he quickly follows. “When I broke my arm, it took forever to heal. Why? If I’ve been like this my entire life.”

“But you haven’t. There was always the possibility that you would become Velieri again, but it is never understood whether someone who dies will have the chance. Books and rumors have mentioned that people may be restored because they have more to do, or God’s miracle to undo the unjust of human decisions, or some believe in the power you had before. But when you were attacked just a couple of months ago and you died—we knew. There was still Velieri in you. We don’t understand the rebirth process. Only that it will take seven years for your strength to be as it once was.”

We examine each other, waiting for the other to make a move, as my fascination for him draws me closer.

“Arek, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He drops his head to the side and closes the distance as though he’s done this a million times before—maybe he has. It’s nearly impossible to handle the way he is watching me.

“That I don’t remember.”

“You will.” He reaches out to move a piece of hair from my face. “Willow, I’ve waited years, hoping you would remember, but right now, it is best that you don’t.”

“I want to know everything.”

“We all do, but instead we should sleep.”

“Will you stay here?” I point to the corner, finally accepting that when he is in the room, I sleep better.

He takes in a deep breath, then nods. “All right.”

Within minutes I slip into bed as he lays blankets across the couch that is too short for him. In the window is a reflection detailing his every move, and for the first time peace descends and my eyes grow heavy as my head sinks in the pillow.

“So, the clothes in the dresser?” I ask quietly. “You have another woman in your life?”

“No.”

“After thirty-three years I’m sure that gives you a chance to get remarried.”

“Getting remarried or divorced is very much an Epheme concept. We don’t.”

I am tired and my eyes are sore around the rims, but what he is saying is shocking. Of course, coming from a society where half of everyone has gone through a divorce, it is difficult to understand.

“No one divorces?”

“It happens, but it is rare.”

“How is that possible?”