I am walking with a spring in my step. Suddenly, it feels as if the selective sun has decided to put me in its pool of generosity. New Yorkers seem kinder, friendlier. The muscles in my cheek feels weary, but I cannot ease them if I wanted to. I half expect Bollywood music to start blasting from all the speakers available in the city so I can start dancing with this liberation.

I jump two steps at a time in the quest for my apartment, this joy adrenaline too massive for the elevator. When I reach my front door, my happiness deflates and is replaced by a cold fear. My front door is creaked open. I swallow a huge lump in my throat and consider knocking my neighbours door, though grumpy mister Frank will only start yelling profanities at me. I pull out my phone and grab the fire extinguisher in the hallway and question myself again whether this is wise, but the wake of my joy leaves a form of enigmatic adrenaline and bravery in me. I take in a huge breath and kick my door fully open.

"Get out or Ill beat you-" I halt in my tracks, my words hitched like a sprinter deciding whether a particular hurdle can be surpassed. My blink multiple times to make sure that this joy didnt toss me in some high that my visions have failed me too. But it is very much real.

"I have a key," says Rachel, sitting crossed leg on my bar stool, her fingers tentatively tapping on her thigh. I cannot form words. I cant decide whether Im happy to see her or not. "Put that thing down," she tiredly tells me, gesturing to the fire extinguisher.

"Not yet," I say and she lets out a soft grunt. A surge of anger rises inside of me, singeing away all my happiness. I raise the weapon higher above my head. I take cautious steps towards her, for some reason expecting her to take off like a startled pigeon. "You better have a good ass explanation." Rachels shoulders are hunched forward, her body curling into herself as if unsure of herself. "And why are you here? Finn is back at your apartment."
"I cant face him yet," she says in a voice so timid the city almost drowned her out. "I cant face him yet because I need to talk to my best friend, so please; sit down and be my best friend."

Im surprised she has the audacity to be so calm and assertive at the same time. Then the anger inside of me deteriorates and I know that if I was in her position, I would want my best friend too. I slide on the bar stool next to her and put the fire extinguisher down onto the ground. My whole body ia tingling in fear and excitement of what Rachel has to say. This feels like debate club all over again - waiting for the opponent to say their piece before you can craft your own. Her fingers are still playing on her thighs, her brown hair canopy her face so Im left with an air of mystery that isnt resonating well with me. I can already feel my impatient nature coursing through my veins.
"How about I prompt you?" I offer because sitting here waiting for her to start talking is unbearable for me. Rachel looks up and her eyes are red rimmed, tears stinging at the corners. She muffles an Okay through her stifles. My dive into a quick brainstorm to prioritize my questions. "Where did you go?" I ask, albeit I dont think thats the most pressing question to be answered.

"Sarahs apartment," she tells me. Now my instincts have truly been solidified. I shift in my stool, for some reason feeling nervous around Rachel which is odd because Ive never been nervous around Rachel. Her whole decision has changed my perception of her, and now I dont see her as the girl who is a testament to how things get better anymore. I work up the next question and ask her. "Have you called Finn back?" I ask and she shakes her head and drops her gaze from me. I feel a pang in my heart knowing my brother is still living as halve, worrying for his fiancé. I know Im all out my questions, or at least my brain is still trying to gather its bearings that I dont have it in me to fathom another question, but I do and its the only one that matters.

"Are you leaving Finn?" The question sounds absolutely ridiculous in my head. Like something I never thought I would say in a million years. I wait for a response, subtly wiping away the sweat on my palms. My heart is racing at the anticipation. What if this is her Goodbye?

"I dont know," she says and I am angry again. My hands itches to reach for the extinguisher to smack her across the face with it. I am about to snap her back into her senses but she goes on. "I have a theory that all this doubt I have in me is merely just cold feet and that once were married, Id be reminded of how he made me fall in love with him. But these are theoretical."

"What do you assume the reality to be?" I ask. She sucks in a huge gulp of air as if that whole sentiment wore her out. Id love Rachels theory to be her reality, but I know she has a preconceived idea of how it would actually be like.

"The reality is I cant marry him without knowing for sure that hes the one for me," she tells me. It makes me wonder now; how people perceive relationships. You never really see the chinks in an armour, theyre built to give an illusion of strength, but seen up close you see the flaws. I think thats how we see relationships; you think theyre fine but there flaws there. It makes me wonder with how I looked at Blaine - I assumed he was all okay, that his armour was intact despite my decision to leave. If only I had paid better attention to them, maybe then he wouldnt have tried to take his own life.

"Then you have to tell him. You owe that much decency, Rachel," I tell her, in the most blatant possible way I can because thats the obvious solution there is. But there is something itching inside of my throat, trying to find its way through my mouth. It dawned on me that Rachel might be making mine and Blaines mistake - leaving a relationship that hadnt run its course. "Does he make you happy?" I ask Rachel. She raises her face from her palms, eyes stained from her pain. She looks disoriented, as if it was the last question she expected. Her face is riddled with complexity and I know that Happy is too broad a subject to ask.

"Does he make you smile?" I ask. "When hes gone, do you miss him? When youre with him, do you wonder how you got so lucky? As you walk down the stairs to meet him for date night, do you experience this whole other level of butterflies in your stomach that you cant stop smiling?" Rachel stares at me intently, as if going through her own archives and realizing what shes risking to lose. "And when you left him, did you miss him so much you felt suffocated, as if you could actually die from missing him?" I dont realize the tears that have filled my own eyes until Rachel brushes them away with her thumb and clasp her fingers over my hand.

A million and one thoughts are going through my head - of Blaine, of what could have been, of everything. Ive grown tired of pretending he doesnt affect me because he does, in every waking second of my day. Ive kept him locked inside a metaphorical box but Ive let him out and now I feel him all around him, everything I wish I hadnt given up. "Please dont leave Finn," I tell Rachel through muffled sobs I never noticed forming around my words. "Its not my place to say, and I know what youre struggling with is different from what I did with Blaine, but if you love him, stay and fight for him."

All traces of my happiness have vanished into an oblivion and are replaced with overbearing thoughts of Blaine. Rachels touch isnt doing anything for me. My insides feel as if theyre shattering into ruined fragments from the realization of what I let go before I was ready to. I thought Ive distanced myself, moved on. All I did was put it on hold until a trigger greeted me with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Its not too late for you either," says Rachel. I look up at her, brown comforting eyes gazing at me, calming me. I sigh at her words because theyre true, the task just is too daunting for me to harvest every facet of it. I tremble just thinking about it. Then I realize how Im being self-centred when theres clearly a more imperative issue here sitting on my barstool. I pull my composure and wipe my tears away from any traces of my own chinks. "You need to go to him. Now. Hes been worried sick about you, and Id stay clear of Santana for a bit longer - or hire protection when you see her."

Rachels smile is a brief one as she returns back to playing with her fingers. I know shes a little disappointed the subject has gone back to her and Finn because thats her own daunting task. I clasp my fingers with hers and tell her that its going to be okay, but she looks as if she still has something on her mind. "What if Im too late," she states. "Now Finn knows I have doubts, and you know how insecure he can get. What if Ive botched this for the both of us?"

"Hes going to be scared. Terrified even, but if he loves you like I know he does, youre not too late," I tell her. She sighs heavily and gets to her feet, smoothing out the creases of her cream blouse. "Then I guess we both have to find that out." I frown at her, confused, because if she wants to drag me in as a third or spokesperson, shes gone mental. "You need to talk to Blaine, and I need to talk to Finn. Lets go."

I raise my eyebrow at her. "Yours is clearly more urgent than mine. Excuse you, Im not the one with a wedding in a week," I tell her. I dont know how she finds humor, but she does and she snickers nervously.
"Thats still not for sure," she tells me. My heart is hesitant, afraid what thread this will pull.

Will this break me, force me to relive so many memories Ive kept hidden? Will this finally close the chapter on Blaine? Both scenarios surprisingly are not ideal, but I know I cant stau couped in this apartment without a closure. I take Rachels hand and we walk out of my apartment. When we arrive downstairs, Sarah is waiting at the sidewalk, chewing gum and wearing a tank top that reveals way too much.

I am boiling just by the sight of her. I know she isnt the one to blame, but if she actively took part in Rachels decision without stopping her whatsoever, I want her nowhere in our proximity. "Shes with her best friend. You can run along now," I tell Sarah in which she frowns and rolls her eyes at me. My hand is quivering to slap her. She ask Rachel if this really is what she wants, glaring at me as if I have a gun pressed against Rachels back. "You dont have to marry the dude. He cant even remember your rituals."

Rachel drops her gaze and for a split second, I think she has reconsidered her options. Has Sarah been the one to inflict this idea into Rachels mind? My blood rushes to my knuckles at the simple thought of it. "You dont know anything about their relationship so how about you take a step back before I make you."

"Am I really being threatened by a queen?" she remarks, scoffing me away as if Im not worth her time. I am about to scream a profanity in her face, but then Rachels hand move so quickly to leave a resounding smack right in Sarahs cheek. The girl stumbles backwards, eyes riddled with disbelief. "Do not talk to my best friend that way. Youre out of my wedding." The simple fact that Rachel still refers to her wedding as a living thing spreads a smile across my face. Sarah looks infuriated. She glares at the both of us before she takes off at the opposite direction.

I applaud Rachel for finally coming to her senses before we jump into a cab. Rachel doesnt say much and I can tell shes too deep in thought and flooded with anxiety to even mouth anything. The cab takes us to her apartment building and I know I should call Finn first, tell him that I found Rachel. I know my brother tends to he flabbergasted he is surprised. I open the door of the cab but Rachel puts her hand on my forearm. "I need to see him alone," she tells me. "And you have somewhere you need to be." A lump forms in my throat. I know this was going to come, but I never expected it to be this quick and sudden. I search in my heart for the happiness that was there just momenta ago, but come up bear.

"Its going to be fine," she tells me and I dont know how the impending situation now became mine more than Rachels. I watch as Rachel leaves the cab and enters her apartment, seeking from all the small time procrastination I can.
"So, where to?" ask the cab driver, tapping his fingers onto the steering wheel as if every second I take for myself cost him millions.
"Gilbert Wright Memorial Hospital, please."