My dearest beloved,

I have a feeling that you’re upset with me but let me tell you a story about the day you came back from the hospital.

For some reason, on this particular day, I don’t feel like getting out of bed.

That’s a lie.

Of course I know the reason.

I have the remnants of last night’s crying session on my face, all dry now.

But I still don’t want to get up.

I look over at your side of the bed and sigh.

If you were here, you would have nagged me until I move my .

But you’re not.

So I have to move my myself.

But my body feels like lead.

I just want to skip-

Suddenly, a call comes in.

“Are you dressed?”

“You want the truth?”

“Scratch that. Are you even out of bed?”

“…trying to.”

A long sigh on the other end of the call. “Look, I know, no maybe I don’t know, but I understand why you may not want to drag your here, but you have to. She needs you.”

She needs you.

Those three words were enough.

I end the call, slide out of bed and get ready for the day ahead.

As I walk down the hallways littered with the picture of us, I can’t help but stop and reminisce.

I pick up our favorite picture of us – a photobooth snapshot we took when we were travelling overseas. We were still so young then – in our honeymoon phase so to say – and we looked like we didn’t have a care in the world.

Not yet anyways.

I always wondered about us – why we ever worked in spite of our differences. I mean, we have our similarities and we bonded over them, but when our differences do surface, it’s so obvious that we get into arguments sometimes.

But we never left each other.

That’s what I like about us.

I set the picture down and glance at my phone. I still have a good two hours before the appointed time.

I put on your favorite sunglasses and hum to myself your favourite song as I leave the house, all the while plotting a route that will take me through all your favourite places.

As I drive down a familiar street, I remembered that this was where we used to hang out during our college days.

I pull to a stop in front of the coffee shop from our college days and decide to buy coffee for everyone.

As I wait for the drinks, I glance around the shop and smile.

I remember how we used to be before we were officially together.

You know this, but you were never my type.

And of course, you would never admit this, but I wasn’t your type either.

But somehow we still fell in love.

Ah, this is dangerous.

Because whenever I think about how ridiculous we started off, I would always drift down memory lane without meaning to…

We started college together and we always hang out with the same crowd, but we never really talked to each other.

One day, you handed me my favourite drink.

“How did you know this is what I wanted?” I asked.

You shrugged and replied, “This is what you usually order.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Have you been watching me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said with that lopsided smirk of yours, “I know what everyone usually orders.”

That was the start of everything.

Ever since our little chat, my eyes started to follow your every move.

At first glance, you looked like the cool one amongst our friends, but you were actually the mom of the group; you knew everyone’s favourite drinks and food and you were always the one mediating arguments between us for the sake of peace. Sometimes you were the prankster, mercilessly teasing everyone for your own amusement, but it was also your own way of cheering up our sad friends. You had quite a temper on you too, suddenly lashing out at us on your bad days, but you would always apologize after, always putting the peace in our group before your pride. But my favourite was you consistently getting offended at being called cute because you like being chic more. You were a bundle of contradictions and our friends could never get enough of you.

It was understandable – you were always entertaining and enlightening to watch.

Of course, it didn’t take long for you to notice.

“So who’s watching who now?”

You sounded so smug and I would have normally brushed you off, but I was busy fighting off the blush that was creeping up my face; you were sitting way too close to me and just hearing your voice was enough to send my heart fluttering.

When I had gained my composure again, I bravely looked you in the eyes and said, “Yes, I had been watching you. Got a problem with that?”

You stared at me for a moment before your face broke into a grin and you cocked your head to one side, studying me with an intensity that made me blush even harder than before.

“I don’t have a problem,” you drawled and somehow, your fingers were already toying with a strand of my hair, “but maybe you do.”

I blinked. “Me?”

“Yes,” your grin became wider and mischievous, “it seems that you have fallen for me.”

My first reaction was to laugh in your face.

“You’re way too confident,” I smirked and pulled your fingers out of my hair, “you’re not even my type.”

You were smirking too as you entwined your fingers with mine and pulled me closer to you, our noses grazing slightly.

“Are you sure?”

Your voice was low and soft and it successfully scattered every rational thoughts inside my head. I realized that if I lean in just a bit, I could have a taste of