In the relationship, Dr. Ratio was not what he seemed at first glance: responsible and caring. He treated you with deep respect, showing tenderness rarely, but always appropriately and precisely on target. You were good together; even a quiet evening in silence, when you sat on the same couch, each minding his own business, seemed to be the peak of the pleasure and trust established between you. You didn't need big words or grandiose deeds to prove your love; it was in the little things: the approving glances, the support, the help with problems, the complete understanding of each other's needs, and the ability to spend time apart without harming the relationship.

Veritas was not, in fact, a perfect partner and, like everyone else, had his faults. What set him apart, however, was his ability to admit his mistakes, work on them, and ask for forgiveness. He skillfully smoothed out the sharp edges that arose early in your relationship, continuing to work endlessly on himself as a person and a partner. Eventually, you became more than just an object of passing affection. Veritas genuinely cared for you, though at first he'd tried to avoid those feelings, seeing them as a burden. But now it was different-now he couldn't imagine his life without you.

If you compress a whole life into one morning, then even then a man preferred to have you around, even if invisibly. He wanted to be near you, even if it meant just having you hanging around somewhere nearby, especially if your face was a little stained in flour and your hands were sweet from fresh berries. Veritas takes a second to break away from concentrating on stirring the pancake batter with a whisk, obediently opening his mouth and accepting the strawberries from your hand, smiling with the edge of his lips at your satisfied laughter.

"Don't eat all the berries," he says, going back to making the batter. "I thought we were going to save them for pancakes? Then you should put the strawberries aside. Better put the skillet warming on the stove."