Then her parents came. Meeting them, and Tim, was accidental. They gave me the full picture of Arizona, and that scared me.

She always made me feel like I was the only person in the world. Yet, she had a life I had not yet considered, not fully, anyway. Arizona had goals, ambitions, plans, before me. I had fallen in love with someone who had dreams beyond getting married and having babies. I understood that; I also had dreams and plans and goals.

The obstacles between us became ever more glaring.

That's kind of when everything started; when the small world we had created began to fall apart. Her, realizing that her dreams of going to Hopkins would not allow us to be together. To my surprise months later, her accepting her offer to University of Washington without telling me. Then of course, the symptoms that I had been subconsciously ignoring for far too long. The missed periods, the breast tenderness, the slightest weight gain. I pushed it down, I ignored it. Until I couldn't anymore.

I had wanted a child forever. Truly, forever. Long before Arizona came into the picture. I had begged Owen to start a family, but every deployment set our timeline further and further back. By the time he was home for more than a few months at a time, we had grown apart so incredibly that discussing children was almost a fallacy. But it only took that one time, that one hasty sexual encounter between Owen and I that really only happened because of Arizona. It's ironic, isn't it, how things like that happen?

But it did. And I realized it when Addison asked me why I hadn't had kids yet. It just, came to me. I was literally being slapped in the face by reality (at a baby shower, making onesies, hanging out with pregnant nurses, for god's sake) but apparently it took Addison's pointed questions to make me realize it. Later, she would tell me she was suspicious that I was pregnant when she was asking me those questions and was trying to get a confession out of me. She is an OBGYN, she recognizes the subtleties of the physique changes in first trimester moms.

I expected the moment I found out I was pregnant for the first time to be one of the happiest of my life. I thought I would be that woman who wrapped up the pregnancy test and gave it to her husband in a box. I thought I would be thrilled, excited, and oh so happy.

Instead, I remember feeling filled with dread, telling Owen when he finally got home from work around 10:00pm that same night of the baby shower. Undoubtedly, he had been with Cristina in the hours prior coming home, he walked through the door with a big smile on his face.

That smile went away when I told him about the baby.

There were no smiles, no tears of joy and definitely no pregnancy tests wrapped up with cute bows and boxes. No, it was more of a simple statement of fact; "I'm pregnant", while I watched his mouth drop open in disbelief.

We had wanted this, truly. We had wanted a baby forever. But now? We stood there looking at each other, trying to pull ourselves out of the disappointment we both felt about this pregnancy. This was what we had wanted, just not how we had wanted it.

We didn't speak for over an hour, until he asked a question I knew he had been longing to ask since I told him the news.

"Are you keeping it?"

Did I know at that point? No, I don't think I did. I was still in shock, still desperate to hold onto what Arizona and I had. I wanted things to stay the way they were. I was finally happy.

Yet, I said, "Of course"

And then, he finally smiled, embracing me in a hug. For a moment, I felt the man I married. The man who wanted what I had wanted. Who could give me everything I had ever dreamed of, the kids, the suburbia life style, all of it. I had to hold onto that moment for months. Because after I ended things with Arizona, that moment was all I had.

I don't like to talk about the days that followed. The week of me attempting to distance myself from Arizona in vain. I was distracting myself from her in every way possible, surgery after surgery, meeting after meeting, all in an attempt to push her away. Was I really foolish enough to think that that might work then?

I knew what I had to do. I just, didn't want to do it.

I had been anticipating her questions for days until she finally confronted me. I was ready for it. I put my stern face on. I tried to detach myself, tell myself that this is what I needed to do, for the both of us. But the whole time she was talking, begging me not to end what we had, I was fighting the urge to completely fall apart. Watching her walk out of that door was the most painful experience of my life.

I threw myself into work after she left. Surgery after surgery after surgery. I didn't hire a new scribe; I did the charts myself, keeping myself at work even longer. Anything to distract myself, I did. Because any moment that wasn't occupied, I thought about her and I missed her. I missed her so much my stomach hurt, my chest felt heavy. Her loss suffocated me unless I actively fought against it.

I remember shortly after Arizona left (or I thought she had left), maybe 10 days or so had passed. I had been working nonstop, not sleeping more than an hour or two a night (with sleep came dreams and with dreams came Arizona, always). One of these days, I broke down. I lost a patient unexpectedly, during the beginning of what was supposed to be a long surgery. Suddenly, the rest of my day was empty and was told by Owen to "go home early". I panicked, borderline begging him for something to do. He sensed my panic and asked if I was okay. I nodded yes and ran to my office. I sat down and tried to do my research, but the memories of her wouldn't stop coming. Her bright blue eyes, the way she simultaneously shrugged her shoulders and smiled, the sweetness in her voice, the way she got me to dance again.

I felt stuck and suddenly, the room was much too small. Closing in on me. I began to hyperventilate and cry, feeling like I was going to die. Just as I felt myself start to lose consciousness, Addison walked into my office. She asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't breathe, much less speak. She asked me where my scribe was, and that only made me sob harder. Then, I think she came to realize was she suspected all along; I was in love with Arizona. She sat beside me and rubbed my back for almost an hour until I was calm enough to speak. By that time, neither of us knew what to say. So we sat there, in disbelief of my reality.

The next day, I told Owen I was going on a surgical leave and had accepted a temporary teaching position at the medical school. I told him it was to cut back and relax before the baby, but in reality, I couldn't stand the thought of going back to Seattle Grace one more day without her.

At first, Owen and I tried to be the married couple we always wanted to be. When we got home from work, we would actually talk, usually about the baby. We tried making dinner together, going on dates, reconnecting, like couples do. But this only made the distance between us more apparent. He missed Cristina. He stopped coming home happy and instead had to force a smile when he walked through our doors. I believe he was excited about the baby, I really do. I also believe he tried and wanted us to work and be a real family. But reality was starting to set in, we were nothing more than two people who wanted similar futures. We were not compatible and we were definitely not in love.

I never thought I would see Arizona again. I imagined, prayed, hoped, that she had flown across the country and never looked back. I wanted that for her, a chance to start fresh. I fantasized about her sailing through medical school and dominating her clinical rotations. I imagined her operating for the first time; her small, dexterous hands making subtle, fine movements in an effort to heal. It pained me deeply, but I even imagined her with someone else, a partner, finding happiness again.

She deserved everything, absolutely everything. I had taken so much.

These fantasies kept me alive when I ached for her so deeply I thought my heart might stop. I may never recover from letting her go, but I prayed she would find the strength to find herself again.

And then, there she was. Right in front of me, in my classroom. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, possibly producing some sort of coping type of hallucination. So I carried on with class while she sat there, flushed, looking like she was about to pass out. I was almost too scared to ask her to come to my office after class; I truly could not believe it was actually her.

But it was, it was her. Arizona. I don't even remember what I said to her. I don't remember feeling, saying or thinking about anything other than how shocked I was. I remember reaching out to touch her, feeling her warmth beneath my fingertips, knowing she was real and losing my will.

In that moment, I gave up. I was done beating against this false set of dreams I had caged myself in. I gave up on pushing myself away from her. I succumbed to her.

I didn't know what that meant then. I thought maybe we would carry on in a teacher/student relationship only. Maybe we could become friends, good friends. In the farthest depths of my mind, the thoughts I just couldn't allow to surface, I hoped we could be us again, whatever that "us" ever was or would ever be.

What I did know, was that I was done pretending I could ever exist in a world she was not a part of.

Giving up felt so good. I felt myself come out of the fog I had been in since she had left. Even Owen noticed; though he attributed my newfound happiness to passing the halfway point in our pregnancy and my love of teaching. But no, it was her. Being around her again, it helped. I know it helped her too.

But I continued to ask too much of her.

I turned to her when I thought I was miscarrying. I saw the light in her eyes when she saw the baby for the first time. When I should have turned away, I looked to her, sharing that precious moment of seeing my daughter with her. I got too close when we were alone in Addison's office. I taunted her, I wanted her to kiss me, I wanted to know that she still needed me as much as I need her. Then, I left her, cruelly, with my husband. Later, I learned she ran into the Leah's arms. I don't blame her; we all heal differently. But even now, the thought makes my chest ache.

I took from her again when I found out about Leah. Sure, I had imagined Arizona finding someone, but never had I put a face to the woman she entwined her hands with. It disgusted me, no, that is an understatement. It threw me into a blind rage. I hated Leah. Every part of me wanted to physically tear them apart when I saw them together for the first time. And the look on Arizona's face, it said everything, I'm sorry, but I need to try.

Had I not been 7 months pregnant, I would have gone kickboxing. There's nothing more soothing than kicking the shit out of those punching bags in times of anger. But a pregnant belly is not exactly conducive to kickboxing, so instead I drove to the hospital. I went to my lab, and smashed all of my faulty prosthetics with a hammer. It took almost an hour; I was dripping sweat by the end. At the end, I didn't even feel better. In fact, I felt worse. I knew then that Arizona and I could never be friends.

So, I took that last bit of her. I said…horrible things to her in that stairwell. Things I can't believe I said now. Things I said out of anger and jealousy. Things I can't take back.

Did Owen notice my sudden change in mood? Oh no, I am quite sure he was back to sleeping with Cristina at this point. Honestly, I was grateful. I couldn't handle our facade anymore.

I drew up divorce papers that night.

My plan was to wait until after the baby was born to serve him the papers. I didn't want this baby coming into a world where his or her parents were hateful towards one another.

But then the dance happened.

I was watching her all night. She had no idea, of course. While Owen was off socializing, doing his chiefly duties, I sat on the periphery of the party and watched Arizona.

It was torturous, really, watching her with Leah. Watching her try to be happy. But what hurt even more? Watching her scan the room, looking for me.

When I eventually lost sight of her. I cursed myself for being pregnant; I could have really used a drink right now. Especially when Owen came over and asked me to dance. I reluctantly obliged, despite being emotionally exhausted and wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep away the memories of that evening.

But then, there she was. Arizona. Swaying to the beat in the arms of Leah. I imagined myself in her place, having the privilege of holding her in my arms one last time. Did Leah know how lucky she was? Would she remember to cherish that moment with her? Would she ever memorize the curves of her back the way I had? Did she know I would give my life to be in her place?

No, no she couldn't, she wouldn't. Impossible. How could anyone love her the way I did?

For one moment, I closed my eyes, swallowing my sorrow, my loss.

And again, she was gone.

I separated myself from Owen abruptly. He looked to me inquisitively, and I told him I needed to use the restroom. Stupid pregnancy bladder, I joked. He nodded and said he would meet me at the bar.

As I quickened my pace towards Arizona, I couldn't help but notice Cristina Yang sipping on a drink, talking to another man at the bar.

I found her where I knew she would be. Our spot, somewhere only we knew.

She was so upset, furious even, with me. I understood why, I had taken so much from her. I had been unfair to her. I knew, deep down, that she loved me, and I took advantage of that.

But did I not have the right to be angry as well? Arizona came into my life without warning, unknowingly turning my world upside down. Had she no idea how much she owned me, how every part of me felt as if I was in orbit around her?

I professed this to her.

I almost let her walk out that door.

We could have pretended all of it never happened. We could have continued working towards the minute progress we had made. I could have returned to Owen. She could have returned to Leah. We could have tried to be happy apart.

But even now, I can't imagine it.

I couldn't bear the thought of letting her leave me again.

So I grabbed her. And I kissed her.

There was no hesitation in her lips.

We made love in a way we never had before. Intensely, passionately, longingly, forgivingly. She consumed me in every sense of the word. I fell so deeply into her in those moments I never wanted to surface again.

After, was clarity for me. It was always Arizona, it was always going to be Arizona.

The planets would bend between us now.