Time was a fluid concept, bounded by the little hands on the clock, and the human mind.
One minute the ring was on Cristina's finger, the next minute nobody knew where it went. One day Cristina's life was full of nightmares and drama, the next day it seemed like bad things had never occurred.
How much time had passed since the first time Burke tossed her in the air when she showed him her messy apartment? How many nights had they spent celebrating the ritual of love together, with their hands weaved tightly into each other?
Never had Cristina imagined their fingers would still be intertwined each morning when she was up. Never would she have believed that would bring a smile to her face more effortlessly than her morning coffee.
For better or worse, a lot of things had changed, but the grip was always unyielding, and only a surgeon as skillful as Cristina could disentangle her fingers one by one, without waking up her man.
Doing that was never easy, for nothing felt safer than having her hand held by Burke. How many years had passed, since there was someone to hold her hand and rescue her from the monsters hiding beneath the curtains and the bottom of her bed?
Tucking Burke's hand under the blanket, Cristina kissed him on his forehead, not wanting to leave the room.
It must have been hard, for her daddy to remove his hand from hers back when she was his one and only baby girl.
Eight days wouldn't have changed a person, but eight months together might. With Burke, there was never a need to count the days, but Cristina's cheeks grew warm as she starred at the shiny piece resting impatiently in the blue coffee mug.
Every morning she took it out and placed it under the light, hoping it would enlighten and guide her to the next step Burke was hoping for. Before Burke ever saw her, Cristina would always drop it back into her pocket.
Sometimes Cristina wished her head didn't betray her eight nights ago, for that one fine nod carried with it more promise than her 3-carat ring.
As Burke entered the kitchen space, all her worries were temporarily swept away. All he did was to cuddle her from the back, without noticing the blank spot on her finger.
Cristina's heart was not as heavy as the ring, but before she actually said yes, she felt like a living contract without a paperweight on top, lying on the desk complacently when all were calm, and ready to take off once the wind started blowing.
What would it take to steady herself, to become the woman Burke was looking for?
Getting ready to go to work, Cristina let her eyes be fixated on the kitchen sink.
Why couldn't she clear her doubt the way she rinsed her plate?
The patience in Burke had become so apparent that it nearly made Cristina guilty.
The man made her comfortable, he had made everything great, but deep inside there was a little voice, telling Cristina she wasn't ready.
If only there could be someone to talk to. If only her daddy was around.
Snatching her travel mug off the counter top, Cristina stood on tiptoe and gave Burke a quick but dynamic hug. That was the least she could do to stop him from staring at her, eagerly waiting for a more tangible answer.
When the clock hit five-twenty-four, Cristina knew she would be late.
Here was a man who's worth being late for, and there a woman taught to do the right thing at the right time.
The right thing had found her; it was the right time she hadn't found.
From the apartment to Seattle Grace, their 6-second kiss that smelled like coffee lingered on Cristina's lips.
The boundary of distance had been broken, as was the rule of the clock. Time had become relative when it was consumed by love.
Maybe she would say yes today.