Sadie stayed with my sister.

I set a small table by the window, lit two candles, and brought out the old photographs from our first apartment.

Callum had managed to make pasta with instructions and plenty of rest breaks.

The sauce was slightly salty.

We ate every bite.

“I owe you about ten anniversaries,” he said.

“You don’t owe me ten elaborate dinners.

I want ten ordinary years of telling each other what’s true.”