Fast forward to a month later -- being finally done with Pedia, and going back to my niche. During these days, we'd see each other every morning for endorsements, and again after work to do something we both love: reading. We'd read our neurology books, but on some days we'd pause to read fiction. We would taste all sorts of coffee from different coffee shops

Fast forward to four months later -- you get to see me graduate. Four years of gruesome training finally coming to a close. Of course it's you I want the most to be there. We spend the night after the ceremony getting ourselves drunk with Asti, laughing all night long; me looking you in the eye and telling you that I'll make it my goal to also see you graduate. I'd keep wishing I'll be there to see that.

Fast forward to a year later -- we fight over the silliest things: where to eat, whose condo to sleep in, whose turn it is to buy groceries. I'll be easily annoyed because the stress of the boards adds to my existing anxiety. I throw tantrums in the morning and you console me, giving me the push to finish one chapter at a time. I spend the day studying or doing clinics for practice, then in the afternoon, I'm filled with excitement as I fetch you from work.

Fast forward to couple of years later -- both of us done with residency training. Real life waiting to unfold before our very eyes. We doubt. We feel afraid. But we step into the unknown and take a leap to starting a life somewhere far. Somewhere cold. By this time, our families know we're together and we meet them for the holidays. Fellowship won't feel lonely since we're together.

Rewind to now. Where things seem blurry. A time when things are uncertain. A time when choices have to be made and issues sorted out. A crossroad.

Maybe this is how you fight. Or how you don't. Maybe this is how we get there, or maybe this is how we lose. Is fast forward bound to be real, or is it going to be just another figment of imagination? The questions never seem to run out.

And then, a pause.