Vedran booked a table for Saturday without looking at the calendar on Sabina's fridge. When he told her, she immediately shook her head. She could not that day. Nothing was written beside the date, only a little circle in blue pencil. Her husband had died on that day five years earlier. Vedran knew, but kept the date somewhere distant, among facts you think will never enter your ordinary weekend.
He offered to go with her. She said she was going alone. He offered to drive her, wait afterwards, prepare lunch. Each offer was kind, and behind each the same question grew: why did she not want him that day? Sabina looked at the olives she had just transferred into a bowl. 'Because I don't want to explain how I feel to anyone,' she said.
That night Vedran lay awake in his flat. He knew there was no attractive way to express that kind of jealousy. Still, he imagined the man he had never met as a perfect rival, spared every future argument and bad habit. Sabina had sometimes told him how her late husband left wet towels on the bed. He was forgetting that ordinary flaw now. All that remained in his mind was the way she said his name.
On Friday he told her everything, awkwardly and without excuses. Sabina did not try to prove she loved him more. She said she sometimes missed her former life, including the arguments and wet towels. She loved Vedran, but could not promise to stop missing what she had lost. He sat beside the table and slowly peeled the label from a water bottle. He stayed for dinner. They never reached a sentence that would settle everything.
On Saturday he did not message to check whether she needed anything. He repaired a shelf in his flat, watched a match, and picked up his phone several times. Towards evening she called him herself. She asked whether he knew where fresh bread rolls could still be bought. Of course she knew too. He said the shop on the corner was open until nine.
She arrived with a bag of warm rolls and a tired face. She did not recount everywhere she had been. Vedran brought out plates and she found the jam. His restaurant reservation had been moved to the following week. While they ate over the kitchen sink, Sabina rested her forehead against his shoulder and remained there long enough for the roll in her hand to grow cold.