If you were swept up by Addie’s centuries of scattered encounters and that heart-stopping moment when Henry is the first person to truly remember her, you’ll love how Henry DeTamble and Clare’s relationship in The Time Traveler’s Wife unfolds out of order. Henry’s uncontrollable jumps yank him across their shared life the way Addie’s bargain drags her through history—creating missed connections, bittersweet reunions, and a love story built from fragments. It’s intimate, aching, and structured around time’s tricks, much like Addie and Henry Strauss trying to hold onto each other against impossible odds.

Addie’s pact with the dark god who calls himself Luc trades her place in the world for immortality—with a price that stains every relationship. In The Picture of Dorian Gray, Dorian makes his own fateful exchange: the portrait bears his sins while he remains unmarked. As Addie learns what her freedom costs (those cruel, clever visitations from Luc; the rule that no one remembers her), Dorian discovers that every indulgence leaves a scar somewhere. If you were compelled by Addie’s dance with temptation and power, Wilde’s lush, uncanny tale offers a similarly gorgeous descent into the consequences of a wish granted too well.

If the lyrical cadence of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue—from 1714 Paris to New York rooftops, from sketches on café napkins to that unforgettable “remember” in the bookstore—made you linger over sentences, The Night Circus will feel like a spell. Morgenstern’s prose renders midnight tents and secret performances with the same luxuriant texture Schwab gives to Addie’s art-strewn memories and her cat-and-mouse with Luc. And beneath the enchantments is a slow-blooming romance that, like Addie and Henry Strauss, finds tenderness in a world ruled by impossible rules.

Addie’s long life—playing muse to artists, hiding in plain sight, slipping through eras where only Luc truly knows her—echoes in Tom Hazard’s secret centuries in How to Stop Time. Like Addie, Tom must keep moving, changing names and cities, protecting his heart. The novel stays close to one life and its fragile connections, much as Schwab’s story focuses tightly on Addie’s day-to-day survival, her small rebellions, and the risky hope she finds with Henry. If you loved the intimate scale of one immortal soul carving out meaning across time, this will resonate.

Addie’s curse erases her from every mind she touches, leaving her clinging to traces—portraits, stories, a carved ring, the one person who remembers. In The Binding, memories can be physically taken and sewn into books, rewriting who you are and what others recall. As Addie pushes back by smuggling herself into art and finally into Henry’s heart, Collins’s characters struggle to reclaim stolen selves and forbidden love from the ledgers that have erased them. If the themes of memory as both prison and salvation gripped you in Addie’s story, this will hit the same tender spot.