I'm a hardcore Ezria fan. It's a fact I can't deny; however, this story isn't the traditional Ezria story. If you can't stand the idea of Ezria ever breaking up or dating other people, you should probably hit the back button right now.

I own nothing.

Graduating from high school is supposed to rank as one of the best days of your life. I think it's safe to say that my graduation day was one of the worst days I ever had, which is funny because the day I graduated I had an extra reason to be joyful that came in a well-toned package adorned in a cute little vest. Yes, graduation day meant Ezra and I had succeeded. We had made it to the finish line, and along the way, no one had discovered us. We could finally start dating in the open. I knew it wouldn't happen immediately, but graduation meant that we'd always have the option. We could choose when to let people know we were together. In the mean time, we would be living in CA far away from everyone else. I had been accepted to UC Berkeley and Ezra was going to work at a school in San Francisco. I was set to live in the dorms and he was all set to live in the City, but we'd only ever be 20 minutes away from each other.

At least this is what I saw for my future, but an hour after graduation, that all shattered. I had just entered Ezra's classroom to help him collect all the posters and teaching material that he had accumulated over the past two years when I heard his voice behind me.

"Aria, we can't do this. We can't do this anymore," he said. I was dumbfounded. What was he trying to say? He couldn't be saying what it sounded like.

"What?" I squeaked out.

"I've been thinking," he continued, "that we can never actually be together. No one will ever accept our relationship. I'll always be seen as your teacher. You'll always be seen as my student. I don't want to build a life that is constantly gossiped about or that people judge. I just want…I just want to be happy without complications."

"I don't make you happy?" At this point I was starting to cry. I had to be dreaming, right?

His face-hardened and he stated solemnly, "Not anymore. Not anymore."

I had no response, so I just turned on my heels and exited the classroom. I walked briskly down the hallway and outside toward the football stadium. As I approached, I saw my friends huddled together talking animatedly. When they saw me, however, with tears streaking my face, their conversation stopped completely.

Spencer was the first to pipe up, "Oh my God, Aria. What's going on?"

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I tried to compose myself. I shakily began, "I-I-I-It's nothing you guys. M-M-Mr. F-F-Fitz was just helping me with a writing competition. I really wanted to win, but he just informed me that I'm not one of the finalists. I'm overreacting, I know."

That's all that was said on the matter and it would remain all that was said between us about my break up. Instead of talking, my friends encircled me in a giant bear hug. They knew what had happened. I had never once called Ezra Mr. Fitz except when I had to, and even then, I'd sometimes slip up. No, they knew. Months later, in fact, Hanna told me that after I'd left, she'd gone back into the school, walked straight into Mr. Fitz's classroom and slapped his soundly across the face before storming out.

My first year of college passed in a bit of a blur. I went through the motions of college—I went to class, joined some clubs, and I made some friends; however, every morning, I'd wake up with a wet pillow and a blotchy face.

The second year was better. I'd somehow maintained a number of friendships (I guess I'm a better actress than I thought), and now, I rarely woke up to the evidence of a night of crying. I did still cry occasionally for the future that I wanted that would never be mine, but most of the time, I would just try to figure out what was wrong with me.

By my junior year, I had pretty much recovered. Well, recovered is too strong a word, but I'd reached an equilibrium. I certainly wasn't happy or content, but I wasn't unhappy either. I was living in a neutral zone somewhere between the two emotional extremes. I was writing non-stop and had actually been published in a few campus publications. Plus, I had started dating again. Nothing serious, but the important part wasn't the longevity of the relationships, it was just that I was out in the world kissing frogs. It was a start.

Senior year was more of the same except for one thing: I saw him. I hadn't been actively avoiding Mr. Fitz while at Berkeley, but I by no means had been seeking him out. Sometimes before going out with my girlfriends somewhere in the City, I'd ponder whether or not he'd be there or think about what he was probably doing right then. I'd always snap out of it though because I'm no shrink but that can't be healthy behavior. Senior year my parents came to visit me for the first time, and they wanted to do all the touristy things—visit Telegraph, walk across the Golden Gate Bridge, go to the farmers' market at the Ferry Building, eat chocolate at Ghirardelli Square. We'd gotten through most of the things on their list, and on Saturday morning at 8 am (my parents clearly had forgotten that I was a college student who hadn't seen 8 am for years), they drove us to the Ferry Building. As I had in the past, I briefly considered whether Mr. Fitz would be there, but I quickly concluded that a man who could only cook 3 things had no business being at a farmers' market. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Within 15 minutes, while I was sampling some ridiculously delicious plums, I heard my mom practically shriek, "Ezra! Ezra! It's been so long. It's so good to see you."

He responded simply, "Hello, Ella." I was trying not to look at him; I was trying to occupy myself with picking out a few of those plums.

"Ezra, good to see you man," my father chimed in, "How's teaching going? Are you still writing?"

Before he could answer, a voice called out to him from behind. With that, I couldn't keep my focus on the plums any longer. I had to see who it was. It was a woman, but not just any woman. She looked like a Greek goddess. She was tall almost the same height as Mr. Fitz, slender with just the right amount of womanly curves, and she was blonde.

"Oh. I'd like you all to meet Jennifer. Jenny, this is Byron, Ella and Aria. Aria was one of my students in Rosewood."

We all exchanged a round of pleasantries before my mom, never the subtle one, chimed in with, "So, how do you two know each other?"

I stared straight at Mr. Fitz trying to brace myself for the only possible answer—they were together. Mr. Fitz didn't respond. He was just staring at me and it was as if he too was trying to brace himself for what was coming. When the silence became just a second too long, Jennifer stated, "I'm his wife."

With that the world went quiet. I could see my mom's lips moving excitedly and my dad patting Mr. Fitz firmly on the back, but in that moment, all I could focus on were the rings that graced Jennifer's finger and the gold band that Mr. Fitz was now nervously fiddling with on his left hand.

Then, something happened that drew my attention away. I saw Jennifer begin to move her hand gently across her abdomen in a circular motion. Looking more closely, I could see a slight bump, and with the knowledge that Ezra—no, Mr. Fitz—had gotten what he wanted, I passed out right there in the middle of the market. When I woke up, Mr. Fitz and his wife were gone and I was bundled up in my dad's arms as he carried me back to the car.

By the time my college graduation rolled around in June, I was fully recovered from the incident and was even dating. Jeremy wasn't like the other guys I dated during college. We could have a future together. I mean he wasn't what I wanted, but he was good enough. I could handle a future with him.

Two years later, Jeremy proposed. I said yes, of course. I didn't love him, but I chalked that up to being emotionally stunted after you know who. I kept rationalizing that I'd love Jeremy in time. I just needed time.

Within a week, my mother became completely wedding obsessed and began planning for my big day. I didn't really mind. I was happy to have the responsibility in someone else's hands. This wasn't the wedding I wanted, but I'd go about the motions and pretend.

We were married six months later on a beautiful crisp fall day in Napa. My mom really had gone all out on the wedding. It was at a beautiful vineyard and my dress was really one of the most stunning things I'd ever seen. At the reception, I was greeted by an onslaught of well wishers including of course Spencer, Hanna and Emily. We were gabbing away just as we always had, when I felt a tap on my shoulder, I looked around expecting to see Jeremy but instead I saw him. My smile fell.

"Aria," he began, "You look beautiful as always."

"Thank you, Mr. Fitz. Why are you here?"

"What do you mean? You invited me." He looked genuinely confused.

"My mother must have invited you," I said simply.

He nodded and continued, "I just wanted to wish you a happy marriage and say congratulations."

I smiled half-heartedly, and with that, he disappeared into the crowd and I turned back to my three best friends.

The next few years passed peacefully, Jeremy and I settled into a routine. I taught during the day and spent my evenings writing. Jeremy would sit next to me as I wrote, rubbing my feet, watching TV or working on his laptop. We were content, and when we found out I was pregnant, no one was really surprised. It was only natural, right? It was clear he loved me deeply and I professed to loving him right back.

Our daughter was born in the middle of the night in the middle of winter, and the minute I saw her, my heart melted. I forgot that it was 3 AM and that I'd been in labor for 22 hours. She was the most perfect thing I'd ever seen, and in that moment, I began to love Jeremy because he'd given me her.

A few days later, as I opened the numerous baby gifts we'd received. I came across a gift from Mr. Fitz—no, Ezra—with a card attached. It was written in his messy scrawl and it read, "Aria—you deserve to be sublimely happy. I hope the new addition to your family is filling your heart and your house with joy. Congratulations, Ezra and Jennifer". I read it through and I didn't feel pain or sorrow. All I could do was smile, because my baby girl did fill my heart and my house with joy.

By our tenth wedding anniversary, it was safe to say that I was totally gaga for my husband. He was truly the greatest man I'd ever known and he'd given me the most precious gifts possible—our daughter and our two sons.

To commemorate the day, we decided to go to the park for a picnic and go to the Exploratorium. Jeremy and I held hands as our two older children (our four month old was firmly strapped to my chest in a sling) raced ahead of us to find a sunny spot in the park to set up our blanket. I smiled contentedly and leaned into Jeremy's shoulder, resting my head on his shoulder as we walked. With a slight chuckle, he stopped and leaned in for a smoldering kiss, which was only broken when our son returned from his scouting expedition and cried "EEWWW!" at the sight of us.

As we arrived at the spot our children had selected and lay out all of our picnic stuff, I looked around us to get my bearings. Of course, that was when I spotted Ezra. He was sitting in the shade by the duck pond reading.

"Jeremy," I said, nodding my head in Ezra's direction, "I'm just going to go say hello."

Jeremy simply nodded. After our daughter was born and I'd fallen in love with Jeremy and our life together, I decided it was time to tell him all about Ezra. He listened intently, and when I finished, he smiled happily and kissed me. He acted like this was the greatest conversation we could ever possibly have, and maybe it was. I had finally fully opened up to him and we had no more secrets.

As I walked over towards Ezra, I looked just as I remembered him except he was a little thinner and he had a light dusting of grey hair that made him look rather regal. When I was just a few feet away, I called out, "Ezra, hi. How are you doing?"

He looked up at me, clearly a little taken aback by my presence. He cleared his throat, stating simply, "Oh. I'm fine. Thank you. How are you doing?"

"I'm well. We're," as I motioned to the rest of my family a few hundred feet away, "just having a little picnic. How's Jennifer? Do you two live in this neighborhood?"

He sighed and his expression darkened, "No. Jennifer and I are getting a divorce. I live in an apartment just a few blocks from here."

"Oh, Ezra. I'm so sorry. I really thought you guys made a wonderful couple," I said and I genuinely felt sorry for him. I sat down next to him and gave him a side hug, careful not to jostle my son, and rubbed Ezra's arm in a very maternal manner.

He smiled slightly at this and then after giving his arm a little squeeze, I stood up and said, "Well, I better get back to my family. It was nice to see you. Please, don't look so blue, Ezra. I have faith that it will all work out for you in the end."

With that I turned away and walked back to my happy life. The life I'd expected to have with Ezra not Jeremy. The life I'd made with the man who I used to see as a consolation prize but now realized was no such thing. Jeremy was the man I needed, and the man I wanted to wake up next to for the rest of my life. By leaving me, Ezra had given me this life with Jeremy. He gave me happiness without complications.

Ezra's POV

I watched as her husband greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and checked to make sure she was OK. Aria just nodded and smiled, not the smile of a vindictive woman who had just found out her life was better than mine, but the smile of a woman who was genuinely happy and content.

I had left her all those years ago because I was afraid of what other people would think of me. I was a coward, and now, I was the one paying the price.

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