If I were Freddie Benson exactly 156 days ago, I would've thrown a fit and declared Samantha Puckett the person I hated most. However, this is exactly 156 days after my point of reference, I still am Freddie Benson, and I don't curse her. I felt zero percent hatred even at the sight of a wreck that used to be Carly Shay.

I held Carly in my arms as she sobbed and heaved breaths in my shoulder. I occasionally patted her back and whispered shushes in her ear but she refused to stop from crying. It was times like these that I actually begged the heavens that I should have been Sam. After all, she was the only one capable of making Carly feel better. However, this situation, perhaps, is an exception. I guess that's why I was the one made to shush Carly and not the great Puckett.

Honestly, I didn't know what to do, and to make matters worse, the rain was pouring so hard. I was shivering. Obviously because I was standing in the middle of the rain trying to calm someone who was practically sobs and tears that turned into a human being. I looked up at the dark, nimbus-deflating night sky and almost cursed at it for aggravating the situation. It seemed as if it cried so hard like her – or rather, cried so hard with her. I don't blame the sky. I myself could feel the throbbing in my chest like her pain was contagious.

'I'm so sorry, Carly,' was all I could muster as I held her closer. 'I didn't know.'

If I were Freddie Benson exactly 156 days ago, I would've rejoiced like the lovesick little puppy I was. However, right now, all I could feel was grief for a friend who just admitted defeat. Ouch. Haha. I just felt an extra jolt of pain in my chest. I guess the fact that Carly was the type of person who refused to lose made the empathy I felt even greater.

She continued to cry in my shoulder and I continued to be helpless until she broke the silence between us with a whisper that I couldn't have understood if her lips were even an inch distant from my ear.

'I'm tired,' was what she mustered.

'I know,' I began and patted her back again. 'I'm sorry it has to be like this. We can think about what to do next when you get some rest.'

She cried even harder and I felt her shake her head in disagreement.

'I'm so tired of this, Freddie,' she said.

I just nodded. What else was there to do? She didn't budge from where she stood. I tried earlier but she didn't let me. I could only stare at the entrance of Bushwell Plaza as if the answer would pop out of there. And just when I gave up on that thought and concluded it was crazy and desperate, the answer indeed appeared in the form of what seemed to be a confused and worried Sam Puckett.

She was rushing outside, umbrella in hand, and only slowed down on her step at the sight of us. I could swear I saw her move slightly towards the lobby like she intended to come back inside but she stopped halfway. I wanted to shake my head and curse perhaps. But I didn't.

I only looked at Sam…because I didn't know what to say.

This may be new to me, but I knew when both my friends are in pain and when both of them haven't reached the agreement they deserved to arrive at – to make the other realize to whom they belong.

They shared something special – one that not even the pain in my chest, translated to love, is able to equal.

If I were Freddie Benson exactly 156 days ago, I would've left the picture. But now, I decide that I will return from day one and try to make sense out of everything. Because I am Freddie Benson exactly 156 days after and I refuse to let this go on like this.