Of course he’d forgotten.   Out of all the days, all the days to be swamped with work and have so many meetings, it had to be your anniversary.   The day you exchanged vows, the day he slipped the ring onto your finger and made you his.   There were uprisings in the districts a week ago that he’d still been working to patch up. So he hadn’t given a single thought to getting you a gift, or even to what day it was.   Here you were, crying while he stood at the door, at three in the morning. He’d forgotten, spent the whole day in meetings, and hadn’t even taken you out to dinner as he promised.   Coriolanus felt horrible.