It's chilly today. The stale air whips at my face, and the saltiness of the ocean burns my nose with each breath I take. I lean against the metal railing, hard and cold no matter how much warmth it drew from my body.

I just let my body hang there. I am too tired. When I left the apartment, it seemed as if I had a goal in mind—to talk to you, convince you, persuade you, I don't even know. But when I finally found you by the ocean, the breeze twirling your soft blonde hair around your beautiful face, I didn't have any words to say after all.

So I just watched the ocean with you.

But then you take out a cigarette and bring it to your lips. I snatch it from your hands and throw it to the ground, quickly stomping out the flame. I've always hated that my own smoking habits turned you into an occasional smoker as well.

"It's bad for you," I say under my breath. Even I can hear the edge in my own voice. I grimace, wishing the words came out more gently.

You stare at the squished cigarette on the ground and shake your head. "You don't own me, Santana." Then you glare at me before looking out toward the ocean again.

"You used to like it."

"What?"

"My possessiveness."

"And you used to think that my smoking was hot."

I look away. What can I say to that?

"C'mon, let's go back in."

You shake your head, refusing to meet my eye.

"Britt."

"You go."

I sigh and head back toward the apartment. But something draws me to you, won't let me take another step. And when I turn around again, you had also turned toward me. In this moment, when our eyes burn straight through one another, a tinge of hope fills me again. I suddenly remember what we used to do, what we used to be.

And, for a second, I think that it's enough. I honestly think it can save everything. Slowly, I raise my hand to you. "Brittany?"

You look down at my palm, and so many emotions flash through your eyes that I can't even tell what you are feeling. Your body twitches; then, your hand extends toward mine.

But you stop. You shake your head and look out at the ocean again. "I'll come in later," you whisper.

My heart breaks just a little again.

"Does Chinese sound good, Britt?"

You glance up from the television and nod. "Yeah."

"Sesame chicken, right?"

You tilt your head and look at me quizzically.

"What?" I ask.

"Never mind," you say, turning back to the television again.

Things like that happen way too much these days. Looks I can't read, emotions I can't feel. I used to know everything about you. I order the sesame chicken anyway.

When it arrives forty minutes later, I set up the dinner table, which really just consists of my shoving a pile of magazines, unread letters, and unpaid bills aside. We eat quietly, and all I can think about is good conversation starters.

When did our relationship come to this?

After that, all I can think about is when I even began to need to think of conversation starters around you. Everything used to come so naturally.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see that a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth. Instinctively, I reach out to wipe it away, but you instantly flinch away from my hand. It hurts more than I thought it would.

When you realize what you did and see the pain in my eyes, you relax again and jut your chin out for me to try once more.

I don't.

You pick up a napkin and wipe it off yourself.

Several minutes of silence later, I ask, "How's your chicken?"

You shrug. "Alright."

"Just alright?" I ask. "But sesame chicken's your favorite."

You look up at me, and I can tell there are words at the tip of your tongue you are holding back.

"What?"

"Nothing," you say.

"Tell me."

You sigh. "Sesame chicken stopped being my favorite a long time ago, San."

I blink. "Since when?"

"Since that time I got food poisoning from it."

"But that was, like, months ago," I say incredulously.

You grimace, never breaking eye contact. "Yeah."

That night, I crawl into bed twenty minutes after you did. You are reading a new book I didn't know you bought. I am too tired to read that night. So I just turn off the bedside lamp on my side of the bed and tuck myself under the covers. I will myself to sleep, but I can't. I always needed absolute darkness to fall asleep. So I toss and turn, hoping you would get the hint.

Maybe you do, but you don't do anything about it.

At last, I get up and ask, "Britt, could you turn off the lights?"

You purse your lips. And, without saying another word, you toss your book aside, flip the switch, and snuggle into your pillow. With your back facing me.

I thought I'd have more luck sleeping this time, but I don't. It's because you are clearly unhappy with me, and I could never fall asleep knowing that.

"Hey, Britt?" I mumble tiredly.

You don't say anything.

"Britt?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Unconvinced, I place my hand on your shoulder, hoping it would be as soothing as it used to be. "I miss you," I whisper.

After several seconds, you say, "I miss you, too."

I shuffle closer to you, remembering the times when we couldn't get enough of the physical contact. But when I press a kiss onto your bare skin, your body goes rigid.

I'm surprised at first, then simply offended. Quickly, I roll away from you and bury my face into my pillow.

"San," you choke, placing a gentle hand on my waist.

"What?" I mumble.

"San…"

I bite my lip, fighting my tears. But still, a single teardrop leaks from my eye and runs down my cheek. "Let's go to bed, Britt," I whisper.

I feel your hand hover over me for another moment before the bed shifts as you roll away.

I cry myself to sleep that night.

I wake up to the blinding sun the next morning. The air had turned warmer, the trees greener. It feels good. I feel good. After I got ready and changed into my work clothes, I walk out of the room and find you having breakfast at the dining table. I touch your shoulder and say, "Hey, Britt, I'm going to work now."

You glance up from your cereal and nod. "When are you going to be back?" you ask.

"Probably six or so."

"Okay." You smile just the slightest bit. It's beautiful. It reminds me of how much I miss your smile. "I'll wait for you for dinner then?"

I grin. "Perfect." And, for the first time in a long time, it feels like things are going to change. So I bend down and peck you on the lips. You seem surprised, but pleasantly so. It almost feels normal again—kissing you. It happened so naturally that I can't even believe we had gone weeks without it.

I come home that night to a dark apartment and your sleeping body on the couch. I kneel down beside you and watch you for a moment before sweeping the bangs from your face.

Your eyes open slowly, and you mumble, "What time is it?"

I glance at the clock next to the television. "Nine."

You get up and straighten out your clothes. "There's food in the fridge," you say, not even looking into my eyes as you pad into the bathroom.

I sigh and make my way over to the kitchen. The box of pasta is more than enough for two people. You didn't even have dinner.

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months.

And, still, nothing has changed.

I still love you with all my heart; I could never stop loving you. That isn't the problem and never was.

We didn't fall out of love, just out of sync.

There was a girl at the bar when I went for drinks after work. Nothing happened. She came up to me and talked to me. She was cute. Tall, thin, pretty. A little superficial, but it was just a random hottie at a bar; what do you expect? I flirted with her. Admittedly, she flirted with me first, but, still, I flirted back. Only because I hadn't flirted with anyone in months, though. I missed the attention, and I missed some playful, harmless flirtation.

It sure felt nice at the time, but the moment I slip into bed with you, the guilt comes rushing into my thudding heart.

I can't handle being in the same bed with you, doing something so innocently intimate while knowing that, just an hour ago, I was flirting with another woman.

I creep out of the room quietly. I go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, to clear my mind. But, even after I finish the water, I'm still not ready. So I plop down onto the couch, hoping to catch some sleep there. Maybe the guilt won't be so painfully present if my body isn't next to yours.

It doesn't work. The last thing my body wants is to sleep. Instead, it just thinks and thinks, about you, about us, about what we've become.

I give up on sleeping at last. I turn on the television, watch some meaningless infomercials, and decide to just watch a movie. I flip through our DVD collection and come across a familiar and poorly designed cover. I chuckle quietly to myself, remembering your experiments with Photoshop and how you were convinced for the longest time that you would make an excellent graphic designer.

I slide the disc into the DVD player and settle back into the couch, already finding so much comfort in this flickering television in this dark, dark room.

I couldn't stop smiling at you. Hell, I couldn't stop smiling at all that day. But especially at you. Those muscles in my face went crazy every time I caught a glimpse of you in your beautiful white dress, your eyes bluer than ever.

And, when I stood just a foot away from you, my heart was ready to burst out of my ribs and land in your hands because, my entire life, I had given you everything, and now I was about to give you my heart. It was both the scariest and the best decision I had ever made.

And was it the right decision? Boy, how could it not have been? Looking at you, all five foot eight worth of perfection, I knew that you were the best thing that ever happened to this entire world, and, for some inexplicable reason, you chose me. I would be the world's biggest fool to let you go.

"Do you, Santana Lopez, take Brittany Susan Pierce to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

I watched the sun hit your face, watched your blonde hair gleam under the light, watched your eyes shine with joy, the same joy you brought to my life. And I knew. "I do."

"Do you, Brittany Susan Pierce, take Santana Lopez to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," you said. A wide grin broke out on your face, and your eyes twinkled with unshed tears. I knew then that I would never see anything as beautiful for the rest of my life, and I was perfectly content that the rest of my life would be spent with you.

As the string quartet began their piece, I took a deep breath and prepared to recite the lines I had burned into the back of my mind.

That, still today, resides in the depths of my brain. And so, along with the television speakers, I repeat those words.

"I, Santana Lopez, take you, Brittany Susan Pierce, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part."

But, just as you were about to make your vow, I couldn't help but choke out, "I love you, Britt."

The tears finally rolled down your cheeks then, and you let out the lightest laugh. "I love you, too, San."

How could I have forgotten the promises I had made on that perfect day? To love, honor, comfort, and cherish you and only you? To have and to hold you, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish you till death do us part? How could I have possibly forgotten?

I find myself crying silently as I continue watching our wedding DVD, remembering how in love I was with you then and realizing how in love I am with you still.

Because no matter what it was that we were stumbling through, those vows I had made years ago would never change. You are my wife and forever will be.

You wiped the tears from your eyes and chuckled sheepishly. After composing yourself, you gazed into my eyes and said—

"I, Brittany Susan Pierce, take you, Santana Lopez, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part."

I glance up from the television, and I see you leaning against the wall, whispering those words, those promises that you have never forgotten as well.

"You're up, Britt," I croak. I didn't realize what the crying did to my voice.

"Yeah," you say. "Been up for a while."

I swallow the tears stuck in my throat, and I carefully study your face. Still the exact same one as in the wedding video, only older, a little more worn out. But just as beautiful and just as perfect. "I met a girl at the bar today," I blurt out.

Your lips turn down slightly. "And?"

"And we flirted," I say. "But I don't know what I was doing, flirting with her. I mean, sure she was cute, but nowhere near as beautiful as you."

You cock your head at me, unsure of where I'm going.

"I've never met anyone as beautiful as you, Britt, and… And you're my wife." I say the last part almost as if it's a surprise. "What am I doing?" I mutter to myself. "Britt, I don't know what I've been doing these past months. I-I'm married to the most beautiful woman in the world, and I'm flirting with other women. What is wrong with me?"

"It's not all you, San," you say gently. "I haven't been the best wife either."

"I'm sorry, Brittany," I sob.

You come over and wrap your arms around me. "I'm sorry, too," you mumble into my hair. "I'm sorry, too, Santana."

When I look up at you, your brush the tears from my cheeks and smile at me. "Come back to bed?"

I clasp the hand you offer me, and I let you lead me back to our bedroom. I slide into bed first. And then you slip in behind me and pull my body into your arms.

I'm about to fall asleep, but there are words I need to say to you before I do. So I turn around and look into your eyes. "I love you, Britt," I whisper. "Always have, always will."

You smile at me and caress my cheek with your thumb. "Till death do us part," you say.

I hold back my tears and nod. "Till death do us part."

And, for the first time in months, we kiss.