Weeks went by. Liesel and Max fell more in love by the day. Liesel began to notice the strangest details about him. He had a scar on the bridge of his nose, he had the slightest gap between his front teeth. She found herself loving all of these things about Max because they made him unique.

He never ceased to amaze Liesel. At night, they would lie together and comfort one another in restless sleep. Max would wake early in the morning to head to work and would kiss Liesel's head ever so softly, as to not wake her, and whisper to her, "I love you my word shaker."

He believed that she couldn't hear or feel him, but in truth, she always woke when he left the covers. His warmth was all that kept her asleep. She couldn't bear sleeping alone.

He always walked in the door with the familiar smell of fresh baked bread on his shirt. She would be making supper for the two of them and hear the door open.

"Smells good," he said, approaching her and wrapping his arms around her from behind. He kissed her neck and she giggled.

"It'll never be done if you keep doing that," she said playfully. She gave him a quick kiss and a smile.

He was happier now, brighter. His smile lit up the room like a thousand suns. His eyes no longer seemed shadowed, but a vibrant, dancing black. They squinted when he smiled at her. Liesel loved this about him. He only smiled like this at her. She would walk past the bakery on the way to work and see him at the register with a costumer. His smile was plastered on like a poster in a young girl's room, Liesel could tell. His genuine smile was so much more charming and charismatic. A kind of charismatic that made her weak in the knees every time.

One night, Max came home and he didn't hold her. He didn't eat. He didn't even say hello. Liesel took the pot off of the heat and went into the bedroom to find Max lying there alone, his back to the door.

"Max?" she said.

He didn't look up.

"Max, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Please..."

Liesel stepped into the room a bit more.

"Please talk to me," she pleaded.

He didn't acknowledge her. She sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his shoulder. She moved to kiss his cheek, and as she came closer, the lantern revealed a bruise on his face.

"Max..." She was shocked. What had happened?

"Liesel, don't worry. I'm fine."

He sat up and turned to her. The sight made her gasp. His nose looked broken and his cheek had a blue and purple bruise across it.

"I want to know what happened," she demanded.

"Someone saw the number on my arm. They knew...and he was a strong believer in the Nazi. He waited until I left the bakery and took me into an alley. After a few hits, I got a punch in. And once I started, I couldn't stop. I killed him..."

His knuckles had bruises the colour of olives on them. Liesel tried to hide the fact that she was crying. She wanted to be strong for him.

"God will never forgive me," he muttered. She scooted closer to him and saw the tears running out of his black eyes and down his swollen cheeks.

Liesel knew little about Judaism, but she knew that murder was the worse of the sins. She didn't know what to say to comfort him, so she simply held him. She could not picture Max, a gentle soul, harming anyone.

Soon, the quiet tears turned into sobs and words in a language she didn't quite understand. It must have been Hebrew. She held him there for a while, then brought him a bowl of soup. He was quiet and refused to eat.

"Max, you cannot starve yourself. Please eat. For me."

"Nein, I am not hungry."

"Max..." Liesel looked into his eyes. They were deformed and discoloured, but still his eyes.

Max sighed and took the bowl. He ate slowly, Liesel sitting beside him watching to make sure he finished.

"We will get through this, you know," she told him. "You didn't kill an innocent man. You killed a brutal, heartless, inhumane soul that does not see the value of any life but his own."

"It's not his fault," Max replied. "He was probably raised this way. To hate Jews. To see them as traitors to Germany. He was displaying nationalism. That does not constitute his death."

"He would have killed you, Max. You know that."

He sighed again. Liesel could tell he was tired and didn't feel like talking about the subject any longer.

She unbuttoned his work shirt which smelled of freshly baked bread and took it off of him, laying it on the bed beside her. She took his head and guided him to lie down. She kissed him softly.

"Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight Liesel."

"I love you."

"I love you too, word shaker."

Liesel rose from the bed and his eyes shut. She took his shirt and started washing it. The early April breeze came in through the open window and her hands began burning from scrubbing.

After she had finished rinsing the shirt, she hung it to dry and slipped into the bedroom. She was sure that Max was dead asleep by now, so she unbuttoned her pale yellow dress and let it fall to the floor in waves of fabric. She then paced toward the drawers that held their clothes and pulled a nightgown out. She slipped the soft gown over her head, allowing it to drape over her thin body like a curtain, then brushed and tied her long blonde curls in a knot.

When she turned around, she was startled to see Max propped on one elbow, looking at her. Had he been watching the whole time?

"You're so beautiful," he said in awe.

Question answered.

Her eyes darted down and she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly self conscious. No one had ever seen that much of her before. Liesel was a very modest girl; seeing her shoulders was a rare sight.

"I didn't know you were still awake," she said in a mousy voice.

"I can never sleep when you aren't here."

She stood there looking at him awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"Don't be embarrassed, you have nothing to be embarrassed of. It's just me."

"It's not like I flaunt my underdressed self around to everyone, Max."

He let out a breathy laugh to that. "I would sure hope not, I'd be battling the whole country to demonstrate my love for you."

She stepped over to him and sat down. "Nein, they wouldn't matter to me."

"Men wouldn't give up so easily for a beauty like you."

"They would never want me unless I stripped down and painted myself red."

"I love you in all of your forms," he said sheepishly.

"And that's all that matters."

She kissed him softly, trying not to hurt his bruised face, and laid down beside him.

He pulled her close.

"You know, Liesel Meminger," he whispered, "I'm going to marry you someday."