She's too good for him.
He can see it, he knows it in the very depths of his mind and soul, that she deserves so much better, so much more than him, that what he can give her.
Yet she stays by his side.
Even through the nightmares that plague him endlessly, the fights, the jealousy, the breakups, the late night calls, the stress, she stays.
He knows that the men she works with see how beautiful and perfect she is. Because sometimes when he comes to get her, he sees them, standing in the next room or even across the hall, watching her, glaring at him as he's holding her and kissing her cheek softly, they stare bitterly, thinking that they deserve her and wanting to kill him.
He knows that some of them are good enough, and if he really loved her, he would let her be with that kind of man. One who could kiss away her fears, rather than the other way around.
But he also knows that she loves him more than anything, and that she wouldn't be happy with another man, even if she didn't have to wake up to his sobs and screams, or if she didn't have to spend her money on tomatoes. She would be miserable.
And so he thinks that they are right for each other, even if it's unfair, even if it's ridiculous and bewildering and sososo strange that she stays and is always there.
Because the adoration and blind love he feels whenever she's sleeping on his chest and lightly snoring and her unbelievably soft hair is spilling across his arm, and her body is making his numb with it's weight and she opens her eyes and yawns and snuggles back into him and her blankets, he just knows that he has to be the one to love her forever.
Or when she's watching her medical dramas on Thursday nights in her pajamas, scarfing down a pint of chocolate ice cream while he's writing another thesis paper, and he can hear her laughing at the stupid doctors stupid jokes even though she's separated from him by a flight of stairs and about six inches of solid dry wall.
Or when they are caught in a match of yelling and he stops being angry for a second and she's so brilliant and on fire in her anger and he realizes that she's just way to amazing for him and his stupidity.
Those little moments are scattered throughout the days that they spend together and they usually occur in the moments of silence and blissful peace, when he takes the time to look at her and thank her and know that it's not enough.
These are the moments that give him confidence as he pulls the small velvet box from his pocket and slides it, open, across the small table they managed to get at this over crowded, noisy restaurant.
He watches her face intently as she continues to read her menu intently, and realizes, after a moment, that she doesn't see the box and it's implied message.
He almost bursts from anticipation and excitement and wants to scream at her to stop being so infuriating and look at the ring he bought her, but he wants so badly for this to be a surprise. So she has to see it herself.
It's when she gets thirsty and grabs for her water and the glass knocks the box over, that she sees it.
He knows that he will always remember everything about that moment.
The look of intense surprise and satisfaction that comes into her face, the music that's playing, the feeling of falling that's melting through him and even the color of her dress that night.
And her solid, confident Yes.