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Zen's POV:

Tearful eyes looked at me searching for answers or reassurances I couldn't give. She kept looking at me pleading for some kind of forgiveness, and permission. She wanted freedom, and I who would give her my own soul, was not so willing to let her go. The love of my life was unhappy. I hadn't really noticed her change in attitude since both of us were so preoccupied with our careers, but now it seemed evident she kept all the frustration in for too long. We were always the envy of many, the successful surgeon and the pharmacist, and we loved each other, at least that's what I thought.

I adored her the first time she laughed, although its loud, it was adorable. That smile... the first time I saw her smile was when I sat behind her the first hour of immunology, I happened to sit behind her. A student next to her, mundane and filled with tediousness, said a sly comment about the professor or the something else I couldn't remember, and in means of being polite she smiled. The incredible wide smile that I lived for. I wanted an eternity of that smile. I wanted to be the reason behind it. She was withdrawn to her own circle of friends, never really flirted or attempted any advances toward the opposite sex, I just observed her. I kept sitting behind her, and noticed a lot of things about her. She always doodled on the right corner of her notebook, also when she wanted to stay focused on a difficult title she would tie her hair in a bun that blocked my view, her perfume always managed to linger with me the whole day, she loved her coffee too much; whenever I saw her she had her mug with her. Once she was in the courtyard under the cherry tree in spring, and she was reading a book for that Brazilian writer. I ran to the cafeteria, got two coffees and ran back to that tree, then took a breath and approached her. She was so captivated with her book, even raised her eyebrows at some parts apparently seemed interesting. With every step I hesitated initiating conversation, but if I didn't I would regret it. Never hesitate talking to a girl that reads, she probably is worth it. As I approached her I stood behind the bench she was sitting on, and cleared my throat. She noticed the sound, marked the page she was reading, and turned.

"Good morning" was the first thing I said.

"Good morning" she replied and gave me a confused look.

"Is this side of the bench taken?"

"Not really"

So I took the liberty and sat next to her on the bench. "So you are in my immunology class" she asked.

"Yes I sit in the seat right behind you."

"Oh so you are the one that takes pleasure in clicking your pen the whole hour?" and she giggled, that angelic giggle of hers, so different from her laugh yet seemed so in tune.

"Yes I believe so" I said than smirked.

There was a comfortable silence for a while then she asked, "So waiting for someone?" referring to the second cup of coffee in my hand.

"Well no I just like the campus coffee so much I always buy two." My horrible attempt at a joke, yet I heard her chuckle, I made her chuckle! "The coffee is quite good here."

"Well then its good I bought this one, two sugar with cream and a hint of vanilla right?"

She looked at me with the look of trepidation, cautiousness was her strong key, so I elaborated, "just a guess, you always did have your cup in class and it did smell of vanilla, behind you remember?"

"I guess" she replied with cautiousness and took the cup from my hand.

We spent hours talking about everything. Our plans for the near future, the places we liked to go to, our respective professions, our families, she even started to discuss the book she was reading; it was all about dreams and following ones heart. That made me like her even more, she was a lively person with a deep personality and a witty attitude. After that afternoon, we had others, which evolved to brunches, then to study dates after that dinners. One night we were having dinner at an Italian restaurant she loved so much, and she just asked "Zen?"

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