When they drove into the basement parking lot of the Phoenicia, Tristan's over-protective coworkers suddenly fell silent. Neither had witnessed this level of wealth before, nor had they suspected it of Tristan's husband. 

"Fuck me" said Millie, "Even the garbage looks clean." 

Tibur started to wonder, why Tristan was working in a foreign supermarket for peanuts when he was married to someone with serious money. 

"Have you lived here long?" he asked Caleb, trying to calculate how much this place must cost per month. "I thought you had a place in the old town..."

"It hasn't been long since we moved here" Caleb replied, remembering the date he was supposed to have arrived in Modesh with Tristan.

The deposit alone would be more than Tibur spent on rent in a year. In the elevator, a screen was advertising the building's private spa. 

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of five-star hotel?" asked Millie, "My place doesn't even have a bathtub..." 

Tibur had often looked out of his window and wondered just how different the people were that lived across the way; it made sense now why the man with the nightly visitors didn't care how much noise he made - these people had no reason to give thought to anyone outside of their lavish little world.

"Just to remind you" Caleb told Millie, "Tristan has lost his memory. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember you... and try not to take it personally. It's been a lot for him to deal with. Best you don't try to talk about the past at all. He'll remember when it's time..." 

Caleb looked almost sad at the prospect of Tristan getting better. Tibur thought he was probably imagining things. 

"Understood" he said, "We can get to know each other again. It's not like we had much of a chance the first time around..."

Caleb ignored his pointed comment. As much as he'd taken Jed's place, he wasn't about to assume all the culpability for how much of an asshole he'd been.

The elevator doors opened, and a Tristan-shaped lump was revealed on the couch. 

"Is he sleeping?" whispered Tibur. 

Caleb walked over and gently removed the blanket that covered his face. His warm smile as he watched Tristan sleep was enough to quiet a little of the restless concern that had been gnawing at Tibur's heart. 

"Why don't you two sit outside while I cook?" asked Caleb in hushed tones. "Tristan will be in pain when he wakes up; he'll need to eat something to take his medicine." 

Tibur had to put his hand over Millie's mouth when she saw the pool, for fear of her waking Tristan with her exclamation. 

"Fuck. Me." she whispered. 

The view looked out over the picturesque Modeshi Marina. Tibur was a little disappointed he couldn't see his building from where he stood; it was like the common people had been erased from view. 

"All this and he works in a fucking supermarket" said Millie. 

"People have their reasons" said Tibur, ignoring his own, somewhat similar impression of the situation, "Our own wealth is not determined by that of our partner."

"Bullshit" said Millie, "If you found yourself a rich girl you'd quit your job in a heartbeat." 

Tibur had to disagree - if only to save face. 

"Once I'm done with my studies I'll be able to support myself comfortably" he said, "I don't need a sugar mama to take care of me..." 

Looking around at the glittering pool and the shining terrace, for a split second Tibur considered if he could really stand by those words should a wealthy widow offer to support him. But if that were the case, what he'd have to give up in return wouldn't be worth it. 

"I think I'd be like Tristan" he said, "Even if the girl was rich I'd still go out to work. I'm not sure what the deal is between those two exactly... but until Tristan can remember, there's not much point in asking."

"Do you want me to dig around a bit?" asked Millie, "Try to find out about them before the accident..?" 

Tibur didn't want to upset Tristan by asking anything he'd struggle to answer; neither did he want to piss off the husband by delving into his relationship. 

"This isn't a murder mystery" said Tibur, "There's nothing to solve here. They're just a couple with an unusual dynamic is all. I thought that outside of fairytales, rich people only dated rich people, while poor people dated poor people. Isn't that how it's supposed to go?"

"Then find yourself a poor girl" said Millie, "That'd be much more your type."

Despite the fact that she herself was happily single, it didn't stop Millie wanting to push her friends into relationships; if only to observe them for her own entertainment. 

"Oh don't give me that look!" she said as Tibur glared, "You know it's just because I've never known you with a girlfriend. I think it would be interesting to see how differently you'd act."

"I'm not looking for a girlfriend" Tibur replied, "I'm quite content as I am. You of all people should understand that." 

Millie realized pretty early on that the dating life just wasn't for her. She never grew out of thinking kissing was gross, and that sex was entirely avoidable. Friends were nice, but romantic partners were too much of a hassle. It didn't mean others' relationships held no interest for her though; Millie was more than happy to hear the gossip and weigh in with an outside perspective. 'I'm the one to ask' she'd said when offering advice to friends, 'my opinions are all enitrely objective.'

"Alright, fine" she relented, "I guess we'll both stay single. It's only Tristan then that we need to worry about..."

The subject of their concern was beginning to stir from his sleep. 

"Take your time" said Caleb, suddenly by his side and helping him to sit. "Your coworkers have come to visit you. We'll eat lunch and I can introduce you. Don't try and force yourself to remember. We have all the time in the world."

Tristan was somewhat thankful for the reminder. He was supposed to have lost his memory and had almost forgotten. He nodded his head in agreement, and Caleb helped him to take a seat at the table.

"He's awake now..." Caleb came out and told the visitors, trying to remain calm in what could be the beginning of the end for his lies. 

"Hello" said Tibur, approaching Tristan slowly like he was trying to pet a stray cat. Tristan held their names at the tip of his tongue but would not let them free. Tibur... Millie... the man that brought you here is a liar... and so am I...

"Hello" said Tristan, sticking his gaze to the table in front of him. 

"Why don't you come and sit down?" suggested Caleb, as he brought the chicken salad he'd prepared to the table. "Oh" he said, "I forgot to ask if you have any dietary requirements..."

"I don't eat beef" said Tristan without thinking.

The table was quiet. Tristan's cheeks were getting hot as he wondered what kind of response his sudden memory would garner. Caleb smiled, but his eyes were panicked. 

"That's right" he said, "So I made chicken. But I was wondering about our guests? I think there's some tofu I could fry if you'd prefer." 

Tibur and Millie assured him that the food was fine, and remembered Caleb's advice not to push anything; even if it seemed that Tristan might be recovering faster than they'd thought. 

"I'm sorry this is the first time you've been invited over" said Caleb, "We should have had you over sooner. Work was busy... but since Tristan's accident I intend to slow things down."

Tristan ate and listened in silence. He didn't believe the words he was saying... did he? If Caleb were truly delusional, it could explain a lot about why he'd brought Tristan home with him.

"Is your company nearby?" asked Tibur, "Do they mind you taking time away to look after your husband?" 

All he could think about was how much money he would lose from not working - and how the rent for this ridiculous apartment would continue to pile up regardless. 

"I can choose my hours" said Caleb, "I may have prioritized the wrong things in the past... but at least it's given me the means to be a little selfish. Now I have the freedom to choose what I want out of life."

"Must be nice" said Tibur, "having a choice..."

Millie kicked his leg under the table. "Didn't you choose to close the shop for lunch?" she asked him, "Shut up and eat your salad. Things could be worse."

Tibur had almost forgotten that Tristan was sitting there with his arm in a cast, various wounds on his body, and no memory of who he was. Rather than wallow in his own pitiable situation, he should be thankful that at least he had his health.

"Have you got enough to do, Tristan?" Tibur asked him, "Do you want me to bring you some books to read?" 

Tristan looked to Caleb as though seeking permission, but whether it was to accept the offer, or determine if he was even allowed to answer, Caleb wasn't sure. Either way it was a habit that needed to be broken.

"Would you like that Tristan?" Caleb asked him.

"Okay."

Tibur told him he'd bring over some of his favorite novels and non-fiction books so Tristan could take his pick. 

"It's not like I'm far from the two of you" he said, "at least in terms of distance."

In terms of wealth, he may as well have come to the Phoenicia to clean, rather than expect to share a table with its residents. 

"You're lucky" said Millie, "I have to ride my bike halfway across the island just to get to work. It must be nice to have a friendly face nearby, I didn't realize before that you lived so close to one another..."

Tibur had been wondering about that too, why it was that even recently, Tristan always walked in the opposite direction when they finished work. He and Millie both looked to Caleb for an answer to their lingering curiosity.

"That's on me" said Caleb, "I'd often have Tristan come and meet me so we could go home together..." The lies kept spiraling. "From now on, when he returns to work I'll come and pick him up. You'd be welcome to ride home with him if you wanted, Tibur. Though it may be a little while until he's ready to come back..."

Tibur shrugged. "It takes as long as it takes" he said. 

Tibur had spoken at length with Mr Melik to ensure that Tristan kept his job; even though his husband certainly had the means to support him, it didn't really matter. Not everyone was happy having to rely on their partner to survive.

"I'd like to come back soon" said Tristan, "Or maybe even visit if that's okay..?" 

Again he glanced at Caleb. Beneath the table, Caleb's fist was clenching. Tristan was still too self-conscious around him, he needed to find a way to fix it. A way to put him at ease. 

"I don't know when you're next free, but I'm planning on setting up a projector soon, since Tristan likes to watch movies. Maybe the two of you can come over and join us one night? If he's up to it, that is..." 

While the visitors seemed interested in the idea, Tristan was left wondering how much more Caleb really knew about him; not to mention how he'd come to learn it all. Caleb walked the guests to the elevator after their meal, while Tristan was left with his thoughts at the table.

"Sorry" he said, when Caleb returned, "I should have started cleaning up... I wasn't thinking."

The dishes were the least of Caleb's problems. He gently laid a finger on the edge of the plate that Tristan was reaching for. 

"Who says you have to clean up?" he asked, the emotions welling beneath a veil of calm, "You are hurt. You are healing. You have nothing to apologize for."

Tristan's large wet eyes looked up at the man that claimed to be his husband. 

"Then what should I do..?" he asked him pleadingly, his lost soul striving for rest amongst the rubble of his trauma. "I don't know what I should do..."