Dr Brun whisks me and Aubrey away the moment we step onto hospital grounds. His eyes bright and glimmering with so much hope I feel a little bad inside. In the past week, the doctors at the convention have made a breakthrough discovery – that together with the recent medical report which revealed that the tumor in Chloe's brain has shrunk to a reasonable size.

We walk through the hospital park, Aubrey's and mine's eyes fixed on the ground as we listen intently to his explanations. The brunette is way out of character today; his arms are flailing everywhere – his voice pitched higher than before and livelier than ever. He sounds like a man who has just gotten a Yes from his girlfriend after proposing, or a father who has just seen his baby girl after a long labour. I can't help but get past my current emotional state to send a quick and amused glance Aubrey's way. The blonde herself has her lips pursed tightly, a rose red creeping up her cheeks for effort.

"So. I think we are en route to a surgery soon and I guarantee that it'll be successful! At least an 80%. On my name, Beca." The brunette halts his steps suddenly and turns on us. His beady eyes magnified at least once through those thick glasses of his. His eyebrows raised above his hairline as he eagerly awaits our response.

I turn to Aubrey who stands rooted and stunned to the ground next to me. Her lips parted and curled to reveal her perfectly aligned teeth – the expression she'd always wear when she wants to say something of the opposite effect in the nicest possible way. I knew I can't count on her for this.

"Chloe's gone."

"What?" I sigh, running my fingers through my hair and fisting a whole chunk of it as I deliberate my answer. As expected, his smile immediately falters, the light fading off from his face. "What do you mean, she's gone? Where did she go?"

"She took off after... After Mrs Greene's passing." Aubrey cuts in politely, reaching to grab my hand and holding it tight.

"And you guys have absolutely no idea where she went? Beca, Aubrey – this is serious." He tries to laugh, his eyes searching ours out, looking for signs of this possibly being part of some candid camera act. When we remain stoic and solemn, he finally realizes it's all true. "This could possibly change her life forever! You have to find her!"

"But Dr Brun-"

"No! I won't accept buts, Ms Mitchell! We have come too far and I am not giving up on my patient." His brows knit together and lines form on his forehead as he takes a step closer to us, his sight zoned in on mine, "Tell me, you're not giving up on her too."

Of course I'm not.

When Mrs Greene collapsed out of nowhere at the end of the vows, everything went crazy. Women were screaming and crying, men – possibly her sons were rushing towards her and crowding over her and Mr Greene, yelling her name and all sorts of numbers to the people standing nearby.

"Call the ambulance!" They shouted, their faces marred with tears. "Call for help! Somebody, please!"

When I finally got out of my own shock, I turned to my right where Chloe was and found no one. My hand was left bare and open; every trace of her vanished as if she was never even present at the wedding. I ran home from the hall, promising Mr Greene I'll be at the hospital later. When I bursted through our apartment, I stopped, holding my breath. Everything looked intact – she hasn't gone back there at all.

So I tried Aubrey's but theirs only contained shouts and screaming as the couple couldn't decide again where they want their own marriage to be celebrated. I hollered at them to stop fighting; I ranted and raved at them, demanding to know if they've seen the redhead.

I was on the brink.

Aubrey looked at me, her eyes piercing through mine and she immediately knew.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pacing over to me with her arms outstretched whilst Stacie rushed off to her bedroom to look for her phone. I let myself be engulfed in her bosom but my arms stayed limp as if they've been leaded.

"She's not here."

"Promise me you'll find her, Beca."

I look at our joined hands; his grip firm and almost deathly. His eyes are sincere and kind, though the eye bags have somewhat made him squint a little. After what seems like a thousand years, I nod.

I promised.

"Where are you going to find, B?" Aubrey asks in a timid voice as we walk away.

My mood has swung extremely since Chloe's left. I'd be crying my lungs out in one moment, laughing gaily as if nothing has happened in another, and then bearing down at her with words that not only pierce but also cut with a salty aftermath at the snap of my fingers. The poor blonde has suffered the brunt and all she's got is the shortest end of the stick.

Because Stacie has asked her to give her time, the blonde did strictly so. Phone calls aren't made at all – not even an email or a text was sent. I did spy her stealing glances at her phone from time to time, and locking herself in bed under covers when she thought I was sleeping just to reread all their text messages. The brightness of the screen illuminating her face, her tears glimmering in the reflected light.

She's clinging on to an imaginary hope for both our sakes. In her mind, as long as one of us is still sane, we will all be and functioning. Since young she has always been the stronger one, holding us together like the glue mixture that held on to the wood chips in a plywood plank.

Whilst I cried openly, displaying my wounds for all to see, she has to hide hers and let them flow freely in secret places. She's been looking forward to this marriage more than anyone else – more than Stacie even. She's the one who proposed, the one who sang, the one who made the first move, and the one who kept Stacie back.

The brunette wasn't all bad, of course. She loves Aubrey with all of her – that I believe. But their fights are getting too much for her and she needed a breather. The brunette left with a kiss on Aubrey's lips, letting her hand fall as she took to the door. Whilst it was needed, a break from any form of contact with the brunette is killing Aubrey – she is literally wilting inside.

"I don't know but I've got to try." My voice matching hers as we clamber into her Prius. We sit in the vehicle for a long while, not moving and not talking. The only sounds present are that of our heavy breathing and the ringing in our ears against the silence in the car.

"Take me to Claire's again." I finally say, rousing her from her thoughts. The blonde looks dazed for a moment before acknowledging my words. She shoots me a look that asks if I'm sure. I nod my certainty at her, sliding the seat belt across my front as I lean back into the seat.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into her ear, my breaths still heavy and laborious from our romp in the bed earlier.

"Why?"

"I'm a jackass for how I treated you at work before."

"It's okay. I'm not that good myself." She pulled my face towards her and pecked me on the lips. We pulled apart slightly and leaned our foreheads together. "I'm actually glad we started out that way."

When I arched my eyebrows at her confession, she laughed. Her head lolled back as she belted out heavenly sounds of joy and glee. I sighed, relishing in that moment.

"I think it makes me cherish you now," she calmed down slightly and said, her teeth baring into a wide grin as if what she's just said was a joke but one look in her eyes and I knew.

She meant every word.

"So you cherish me, huh?" She nodded, pulling me closer to her again and sniffing the top of my head.

"Always."

I stare at the doorknob in front of me, silently counting down to the seconds as I await the approach of the apartment's occupants. The shuffling of feet behind the wooden panel sends shivers down my spine. Chloe can possibly be standing right there behind the door, looking at me through the peephole right now. That thought both creeps me out and excites me to no end.

"Chloe?" I call, rapping on the door once more.

The door swings open, revealing a mop of red hair. Her emerald green eyes sparkling in the sunlight as she looks down at me. For the average Caucasian woman, I'm considered a shorter prototype. Not that my redhead minded it a bit, seeing how she's only taller than me by 6 centimeters.

"Beca."

"Is- Is Chloe here?"

"I've told you before already. She's not here." Claire shakes her head, leaning against the door jamb with her arms crossed in front of her, impassive.

I sigh, bowing my head low. Chloe's mentioned before that her sister has bought an apartment here in Manhattan and is staying alone. I peek past her body and spot a shoe cabinet in a corner; a whole line of shoes is arranged neatly along the length of the furniture. Amongst them is this pair of neon green Converse chucks – it has a hole at the side of the left shoe, the rubber lining of both shoes are torn where the balls of the feet are.

Those are Chloe's chucks. She's left some shoes and clothes at Claire's because her collection is taking up too much space in our apartment. The laces of the chucks are undone – unlike her usual habit of keeping them tucked away neatly when she's not going to wear. That's strange.

"Where is she?" I ask again, nodding towards those chucks and looking back pointedly at her. Claire turns and sees the chucks, sighing as she facepalms herself.

"Great."

"Why is she avoiding me?"

"Beca-"

"Is she here? Is she?" I push past the sister and barrel through the apartment, shouting her name as I go around the rooms for signs of the redhead. Aubrey walks up behind Claire and places a firm grip on her shoulders.

"Don't worry. Let her be." She says, watching as I grow increasingly frustrated at yet another fruitless search.

"I wanted to say don't bother, Beca. Chloe's gone for the weekend to our Aunt Collins."

What? She let the redhead roam the streets by herself? I start taking in huge gulps of air as I throw death glares over at the sister. How can she do that? What if something happens to Chloe?

"What the heck are you thinking, letting her go out alone?!" Instead of my voice, Aubrey's own agitated shriek fills the apartment. Both Claire and I stare at her dumbfounded; the kraken has broken loose again. I can see her veins pounding against her temples, her eyes flashing dangerously. Claire herself looks like she's about to throw chunks - her face going from shock to perplexity, and finally into anger. She shakes her head, slumping down against the wall. She runs her hand down her face before throwing us a dirty look.

"You think I would let my precious sister do that? Are you nuts?"

"But you just sa-"

"I said she's gone, I didn't say I let her go alone."

Good. Well at least I know now where she is. She's safe, that silly girl is safe. Aubrey taps me on the shoulder and motions to the door.

"To Aunt Collins."

"You know what they call me back in college?" I asked, swinging my racket hard at the tiny black ball flying towards me. It flew off tangent and hit the side wall before flying back towards my girlfriend. She sidestepped it and walked towards the exit, triumph written all over her face. I winced when the ball hit me hard in the shin before bouncing off somewhere else.

"Let me guess," she quipped, taking a long drink from her bottle, "epic squash loser."

I pouted and tossed my racket away, opting for my water bottle as well. Once we both rehydrated, she motioned towards the court, gamed for another round. I shook my head, shifting my duffel aside so that I could have a seat on the bench.

"Beca..." She called, tugging at my hand and swinging my arm side to side. "Just one more game for me, please? I promise I won't call you names."

"But," I lifted my arms wanting to make a point, only to get my train of thoughts derailed. I sighed and dropped the arms, defeated.

"What?"

"I'm all rusty. I used to be good at this, alright?"

"You say that; you'd missed more than half your service, babe."

"Chloe..."

"Fine, I'm sorry. Look, we can catch up. I'll guide you." She flashed a smile, her voice pumped with sincerity as she offered me her hand again. My eyes darted between her outstretched hand to her sweaty forehead. Sit here and continue to be a loser versus letting a pretty redhead like her win.

Didn't seem like I have a choice.

"Okay, all you have to do now is to drop the ball – not with too much force because it'll bounce straight up and that's not good, okay? Drop the ball with a gentle downward push, like you mean to drop it but you don't want to force it." She stood behind me, our hips connected as she held on to both my hands. The tiny black ball held tightly in my hand as she moved it up and down, showing me the direction and the amount of force required to drop.

I couldn't let the ball go too high; I couldn't let it go too low either.

"Just make sure your arm is straightened when you drop it. Now drop." We watched the ball drop and bounce up to the height where my swing would meet it at the most optimal angle. She let out a squeal of glee and quickly placed another ball in my hand.

"Now, time for your swing. When you swing, you swing with your entire torso. Your core provides the strength for your swing. You would want a powerful and accurate ball, right? So you turn like this," she held on to my waist and racket arm, turning me anti-clockwise whilst holding my hips still. I felt my cheeks flushed at the contact. This redhead's seriously got me all worked up – not over the ball but-

"Beca, concentrate!" She chided, her grip tightening around my wrist. We did a few more rounds of the "turn and hit" before she actually let me have a real swing at the ball. When we came to it, the ball bounced off the springy netted face and flew towards the wall with such grace and power, I almost teared. It hit a good few inches above the service line.

We did it. I turned in her arms and hugged her with such ferocity, I'd forget about the rebound. I won't say I was badly hurt, but the bruise took a week to heal.

"Look at you all sweaty," she cooed, lifting my shirt up and above my head and using it to wipe off excess perspiration. I tilted my head back to give her more access to my neck, closing my eyes as I enjoyed the little massage. It ended all too soon when she suddenly pushed me into the cubicle and under the cascading water. I shivered as the cold liquid hit against my heated skin. The redhead pulled the curtains behind her with a smirk before shoving me against the wall, trying to resume her previous task.

Only this time, she's using her lips.

"Chlo..."

"Mhmm?" She nipped and licked at the skin, making tiny popping noises that sent squirms down my spine. In a good way.

"Shorts..."

"Really, someone's getting eager already."

"They are getting wet, babe." I pulled away slightly and turned the tap off. Both of us looked down at my white pair of sports shorts – not so white anymore. And so not decent.

Might as well remove them.

"Beca, please. Just let her be." Claire pleads, standing between the door jamb and the door itself, holding on tightly with her hands. "She just needs to think everything through."

"Everything? What everything? Claire, do you realize that an opportunity for her to get well has presented itself on a plate right now? Dr Brun's all ready to remove that tumor for her and she's... just gone like that! How's that supposed to make me feel? How's that supposed to make all of us feel and think?"

"You don't understand, do you?" Her voice filled with challenge as she closes the door behind her, effectively locking us in.

"No, I don't." I'm getting louder, my arms crossed in front of me. Aubrey steps to the side, not wanting to get into this head on just yet. I bet all my grandmother's knickers that if she's in, she'll go all the way. Claire won't stand a chance. "So explain to me. Please."

Lost, derailed, getting voided – these are the very emotions pulsing through me as I speak, my breaths getting labored again. Despite her house's air-conditioning, the back of my shirt is starting to drench and stick to my skin.

"Tell me, please. Why is she doing this, why did she leave me?" I can feel my lips quiver, a stray tear rolling down the side of my cheek.

Claire shakes her head, knowing it is impossible for anything else but the truth now. She gestures towards the couches, and takes a seat herself. Aubrey and I follow suit, choosing to sit on the love seat next to her instead. Somehow in the span of two weeks, Chloe has managed to intrude herself on Claire's living space. Every corner – big or small, screamed Chloe. Colors predominated the living area; a few books on interior design laying on the low-rise coffee table, and the small but insightful stack of DVDs gave it all away.

She has indeed been here – her presence still felt though it's getting dimmer and dimmer. But it's still Chloe Beale nonetheless.

Claire motions to the books, picking one up and flipping to a page that has been dog-eared. "Chloe would kill me if I tell you everything – that's not my place. But I thought maybe this will somewhat explain a part of it."

I pull the book towards me, setting it on my lap. It's heavy and loaded – newspaper clippings of various apartment listings have slotted in between the pages of the book. It is also filled with cut-out articles on TSC-SEGA, proof that the redhead herself has been researching on her own thing as well. Well, at least she hasn't given up on herself. I search Claire's eyes intently, trying to eek out any trace of deception but find none.

She won't dare to lie to me anyway.

"That magazine-" It's a magazine? "-is dated last month. My sis has been on this for a while already. Don't you think she's trying to convey something at all? Even if it's in secret?"

I study the earmarked page, unfolding the flap and evening out its crease as my eyes flit through its images. Flattened red ovals have been drawn all over with inscriptions scribbled all over in the same red ink. There're phrases like "our future bedroom", "this color is nice for our kitchen", "Beca would like this couch" and, this I love: "Our future love nest."

Chloe has been planning our future together. I peer over at the rest of the stack, seeing how the dates ran a few months back; it has always been on her mind. I throw a glance at Claire who simply nods and leans back into the couch looking relieved.

"All these silly blueprintings and idea-scrapbook have been going on for the past couple of years; she kind of got obsessed over it near the start of last month though, and it's all she's been doing since she came here. She said it'll keep the tears at bay."

I run my fingers down the surface of the page, feeling the slightly creased spots where her tears must have landed.

"Why, Claire?"

"I don't actually know. She won't say. All she's ever mentioned was how she doesn't want to hurt you. That's all she said when she appeared out of nowhere at my doorstep having knocked the daylights out of my door."

The older redhead is trying to cheer me up. She must be tired too.

"We're gonna go." Both Aubrey and Claire whip their heads over at me, their eyes widen with surprise. "Come on, Bree." I tug the blonde at her hand, leading her out of the apartment.

"You're seriously not considering going to Aunt Collins?" Aubrey asks as she pulls up in the lot in front of our building. I nod, scrolling through my unread messages. Most of them are from Fat Amy giving me updates on work stuff. A new girl has came in to replace Chloe for a while. According to our resident gossipmonger, this "chick has gotten Luke drooling all over her. Ms Dean isn't pleased." I chuckle at the text and tilt my phone so that Aubrey can read it too.

She sends an amused tsk my way and turns to look out the car window. The weather has been rather chilling these days with scattered periods of passing rain clouds. I'd silently thank God for the lack of thunderstorms though. Without the redhead, I won't know who to turn to for my thunder buddy. Unlike Chloe, Aubrey would simply sleep through the loud claps of thunders and the blinding flashes of lightning.

"Oh my gosh."

"What?" I frown, reading a text from Ms Dean about an upcoming project that would need my expertise. Expertise in what?

Aubrey doesn't answer. She throws the door open and sprints up the steps towards her apartment. I quickly turn off the engine, locking the car behind me as I chase after my best friend. Long legs versus short legs, this can take a while.

"Aubrey?" I pant out, sucking in as much air as I could with my body bent over, holding on to the door jamb for support. "Aubrey." Why isn't anyone answering?

I look up and realize why.

She reaches up to her face with a shaking hand. Her fingers run over the wet contours, tracing the tear stain. She gently tugs and flips the lower lip with her thumb, wondering if it still tastes the same. A small smile slowly creeps across her face - her eyes roaming down its object, lavishing it with desire. Her other hand floats down to grip around her waist, clutching on tightly and pulling her closer.

"You're back." Aubrey breathes out slowly as she takes in the sight of her beloved fiancée; her voice shaking, as though afraid that this is a figment of her imagination. "Are you real?"

Stacie chuckles and runs her entire arm around the blonde's waist, pulling her flush against her front. Their lips stood mere inches away from each other, their breaths combined to fog up Stacie's black framed glasses. "I'm very sorry I left. I missed you."

Aubrey stares at her, her face a cemetery of emotions compared to Stacie's tearful smiling one. I frown, not knowing how my best friend is going to react. Usually it's easy to tell: a miniscule nod of the head, a tiny quirk of an eyebrow, a slight tremble on the lips – these are all absent. I watch as Stacie opens her mouth again to speak. Her first words are probably at the tip of the tongue when Aubrey suddenly lunges forward and closes the gap between their lips.

"Don't leave again. Promise me." The blonde whispers into her lips. Stacie shuts her eyes and leans in to complete the kiss.

"You have no message."

I nod grimly at the nice lady from the answering machine as I take a long drink from the cold soda can. What was I expecting – for her to call me and tell me why she just left like that? I want to be angry, I want to be so angry at her so that maybe this won't be so painful at all. But the truth is, no matter how many layers of emotions I pile on this void, it will never go away.

It won't go away.

I throw the can on the floor and crush it with my foot, throwing its aluminum carcass into the bin before making my way to bed. A soft knock on the door stops me in my tracks and I wheel around. Chloe?

"Beca? Are you in there?"

"Yeah." I call back, slumping down onto the couch with disappointment.

"I'm sorry I ditched you in the car earlier. Do you want to talk about what happened at Claire's?" I shake my head and clamber out of the seat, staggering towards my room. Aubrey keeps on knocking and calling my name. I guess she got the hint when I slammed the bedroom door behind me. I sigh as my head hits the soft pillows, burying my face into the covers.

Still smells like her. Fruity from her favorite shampoo, mixed with bits of her drool and body scent. It's getting faint but it's there. It's still there and I'm thankful - can't sleep without it. I feel my eyes fluttering close as exhaustion starts to take over when my phone suddenly blares out Sweet Child of Mine. I've got to change this damned ringtone.

"TGIF, Short Stack! Where are you?!"

"I'm at home, about to sleep. What's up with the voice anyway? Are you in a library?"

She scoffs. "Righto, pint size. You've got to come over. Right now!"

"Why? I'm getting pretty comfortable here. I just got back and it's cold out." I shuffle deeper into the covers trying to prove my point, facepalming myself when I realize she's not here to witness my comfort.

"Fine, I get that you're on leave and whatever but Becs - there's someone whom you would really want to see here. I won't miss it if I were you."

I throw the doors open and make a sprint for our workstation, bumping into people without a care if they're holding a stack of papers or even a cup of hot coffee – which by the way, really hurts. I'm a few tables away from that hint of red hair when someone lugs me around the waist and throws me into a chair. The impact made the air whoosh out from my lungs and I sit there gasping desperately, my knuckles white as I grab on tightly to the arms of the chair.

"What the heck, Am-" Lilly clamps her hand down on my mouth before I can complete my sentence. It is then that I realize my group of friends cum coworkers has gathered around me. All of them are either squatting down or bent over so that Chloe wouldn't see us over the mountains of piles of documents and books.

Which is weird in itself because the entire office hates piles of any sorts. Whilst printing blueprints and design proofs (and contracts in black and white) are important, Ms Dean has set the green rule that unless necessary, use of paper should be kept to a minimal.

I quirk my eyebrows at them, wondering if this is some kind of conspiracy to get me napped and shipped off somewhere for money. I'm sure I'm worth a lot. I hope I am worth a lot.

"Shush," Lilly says. Because everyone else is so quiet, I can finally hear what she's saying, clearly. "Chloe doesn't know you're here."

"Yeah, she'll totally kill me if she sees you."

"But-" my voice muffled by Lilly's hand and I roll my eyes at the futile attempt to speak. Lilly makes an apologetic face and loosens her hand. "Thanks. Anyway, I thought you told me to come here to see her."

"Yes but you got to do it quietly and in stealth." Luke chimes in, his voice a weird imitation of Fat Amy's conspiratorial voice.

I narrow my eyes at his words. "What, stealth as in James Bond stealth? Are you serious?"

Everyone nods, solemnness written on their faces. Even Bumper is frowning – he only frowns during serious conversations. Ms Dean often wonders why Bumper is always looking so annoyed at her during meetings. Oh bless that woman.

I stare at all of them for a while, hoping that this is some kind of a joke that maybe Chloe has tasked them to carry out the moment I'm in office. After a few moments of silence, I finally give up and to them, consent for doing this. I just want to see Chloe.

"What are you bummers up to?" Fat Amy and co freeze. I feel my eyes widening at the voice of the intruder.

"Plan B, Plan B!" Fat Amy mouths to the rest and they quickly whip around to face the redhead, effectively hiding me behind a wall of erect human bodies. Through the gaps between their arms, I can see Chloe trying to look over their shoulders but failing. She then pouts and her eyes demands to know what the gang is up to.

She doesn't really like being left out on things.

"Uh, nothing. Luke is just showing us his nude photographs." Luke scoffs loudly and throws a glare at Fat Amy.

"What?! Naked Luke? Hey I want to have a look too!" Yup, that's my girlfriend – always eager to look at nude pictures of others.

Fat Amy frowns, knowing she's blundered, "Uh no, no. I mean Bumper's nude photos." It's the brunette's turn to make a face. Actually, it's not so much of an offended face (like Luke's) more than a shocked one. Chloe mirrors his expression, taking a step back.

"Oh, then it's okay."

Everyone remains where they are in silence. I can hear the office clock ticking away as they play the waiting game, hoping they'll outlast the other – Chloe vs the rest of the world. I sigh loudly, totally forgetting my deal with Fat Amy. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Chloe's jaw drop at the sound.

"Wh- Who's there behind you?" She asks, her voice timid and shaky.

"Me. It's me, Chloe." I push past the rest and present myself in front of my girlfriend with my hands tucked into my front pants pocket. Gosh, I do hope she's still my girlfriend.

"I'm- I'm the nude photographs they're talking about."

Instead of silence, a cloud of awkward tension has descended upon us. It almost feels as if we've gone back to olden times when we are no more than a pair of snarky, snap-at-each-other's-necks work partners. Chloe looks shocked to see me. Her eyes dart behind me at the rest, demanding an explanation for my presence here.

Fat Amy casts a quick glance at her fellow conspirators, motioning with a hitch of her head and they promptly move to head back to her workstation. Bumper mumbles a good luck as he ambles over to join the rest. All this while, Chloe kept her eyes on me.

No matter what she's going to say, I'm sure I don't want our coworkers hearing. So I jab my thumb towards the pantry and she nods, turning to walk towards the appointed location with me tagging right behind.

"Ow!"

I wheeled around and felt my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach at the sight of the redhead. She's on all fours and tears were threatening to break through the floodgates. I quickly made my way to her, squatting down so that we're at eye level.

"Hey, you okay?"

"No! I'm hurt!" She snapped but she didn't push me away – that's always a good sign. I gingerly helped her to shift so that she could sit on the ground. Her knees were scrapped with blood oozing out from the dirty cuts. Her palms and wrists were also bloodied and bruised from breaking her fall.

"I'm sorry you fell down." She pursed her lips with her eyes shut as I poured water over her wounds, rinsing away the dirt from her skin. "Does this hurt?"

"You want to try falling and skinning yourself? Yes, of course this hurts. Ow!" She hissed again as I dabbed at the cuts with a cotton pad drenched in iodine solution. "Can you please be more- Ow! Hey!"

"I'm sorry. Please bear with it." I mumbled, pulling a roll of bandage over her knee. She pouted and helped me hold the gauze in place, grimacing when I applied force to tie the bandage in place. She remained quiet for the rest of the bandaging, save for a few hissing here and there whenever her cuts come into contact with the stinging solution. Once done, I flashed her a smile and offered my hand to her.

She grabbed on to the outstretched hand and tried to get up, wincing as pain shot up her legs. "My ankle, I think I twisted it or something."

I turned my head and examined the rest of the trail, blaming myself for insisting that we should go hiking that day. She tugged at my hand and I turned back to look at her. "I don't think I can walk."

"Never mind. Come, try to stand and hop on to me." I turned around and bent my knees, my back hunched over. She held on to my hand and slowly pulled herself up.

"Are you sure about this?"

I nodded, hitching her up with my arms tucked behind her knees. She gave a little squeak at the sudden jolting, her arms wrapped around my shoulders for support. We walked the rest of the trail in that manner. I could feel her heart beating fast against my back, her face leaning against the back of my neck as my feet hit against the dirt path. It was actually rather romantic if you'd ask me – what with dusk falling around us and the sun setting down behind the trees with the birds chirping happily around us.

"Beca," she whispered, as if scared that her voice will scare away the moment.

"Mhmm." I craned back to look at her; her eyes were fixed on mine. She tightened her grip around me as she licked her lips.

"What if one day I get so fat that you can't carry me?"

I chuckled, hitching her up again to get a better leverage and grip. I could feel her pouting against my neck as I continued walking down the path, our journey in the park ending soon.

"Then I'll get just as fat as you, and we can roll around together."

I stand with my arms crossed, leaning against the dining table. She pulls the glass door closed and slowly turns around; her eyes downcast and not meeting mine. I try clearing my throat but she wouldn't look up.

"Chloe?" I try again.

"Yeah."

I sigh. This is like talking to some child who's feeling guilty over some booboo made. I unfold my arms and make my way over to her, slowly and carefully paced so that I won't scare her away. She finally looks up and meets my eyes just as I come to a stop a few inches away from her.

"You came back."

"No, I came back to work."

I bite down on my lower lip. I expected this kind of response but it still stings. "I thought you're at your Aunt Collins."

"Claire won't let me come back to work so I let her think I'm headed to Aunt Collins. Hailed a cab the moment she disappeared around the bend after she dropped me off."

"Chloe, you're making everyone worried. Why are you doing this?" Exasperation is slowly making its way up my nerves as I listen to her nonchalance in the entire matter. Seriously, doesn't it bother her that there's whole bunch of people worried sick for her?

Her eyes flitter everywhere, checking out the furniture and objects around the pantry as if they are of more importance than my question. She then closes her eyes and I can hear her breathing evening out.

"Chlo-"

"Let's break up."

What? I must be going crazy. Did she just say-

"Let's break up," she repeats, her eyes still closed. Usually at this point in the conversation, tears would start rolling down her cheeks but right now, there's none. I part my lips to take in a huge gulp of air through my mouth, feeling it dry up the buccal cavity as it passes down my gut. My feet are numb and leaded. I try to move them but I can't. In fact, my whole body has went numb. A loud ringing resonates in my ears as I replay her words in my mind.

Let's break up. Let us break up.

In the past week filled with restless sleep (or no sleep at all), I have imagined all kinds of scenarios happening when I finally find my redhead and reunite with her. None of them reflected this scene; it's not included. Breaking up with Chloe is never an option to me. It is non-existent.

That's why I've never imagined it; that's why I couldn't find any word in response to that statement, to that request. Except,

"Why?"

She shakes her head, her floodgates finally working as her cheeks get overwhelmed with tears. Her shoulders heave as she tries to contain her sobs. She doesn't want this. But a nagging voice at the back of my head tells me that she needs this. Why?

"Beca, I'm sorry but we can't be together anymore. I'm sorry."

"You can't just say that, you know?" I remove my glasses and rubs my eyes against the back of my sleeves. "You can't just decide for us both.

"I'm a sick person, Beca! Don't you get it? I may leave you anytime and I don't want that!"

"Chloe."

"Don't Chloe me, it won't work. I've been working up to this for the past week. I'm very sorry that I left without a word but I can't look at you when I know I needed to do this, do you understand? I need this, Beca. I can't be with you."

"But Chloe," I grab her hands quickly and shake her to shut her up for a bit, "No, listen to me. Dr Brun has found a way out. You can be better, Chloe! There is hope!"

"There isn't! Okay? I saw it – I saw me marrying you right there in the hall that day!" My eyes widen at her words, my hands losing its grip. "I used to see a future with us, Beca. I saw it. It was happy and hopeful. And then I saw us getting our vows out before that altar and I felt all warm and fuzzy and suddenly, it was snatched away from me. I saw me collapsing there. It's not Mrs Greene, Beca. It was me. I saw me. I used to think that this sickness won't stop me from getting the happiness I wanted but-"

"Chlo-"

"I could be taken away from you anytime. Don't you see it, Beca?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you. If I could turn back time, I won't even step into your life at all. You need to be with a healthier person, babe. Not someone like me who can just die anytime. Not someone like me who- who gets into seizure or has- has her brains exploded because of some stupid tumor that doesn't go away." Her voice cracks towards the end as another wave of sobs breaks her countenance.

"Baby, you can survive that surgery, I promise you!"

"Oh yeah? What are the stakes, Beca? What's the percentage like? 60? 70? Even having a 90% chance scares me to no end because that's a 10% area where I would never wake up and see you again."

I find myself swallowing thickly at her words, trying to find a comeback but I can't. Not because there's some truth in them, but because I can't believe she's been thinking all of that. Chloe takes a step closer to me and wraps her arms around my waist. Her chin digs into my shoulder as she holds on to me for dear life.

"I love you, Beca. I love you so much that it hurts. I can't lose you. I can't." She pulls back and leans in to kiss me. I melt into her lips, feeling her warmth engulf me in this cold and unfeeling pantry.

"Then don't, ever." I whisper into her lips; my hands caressing and cupping her face.

"I won't but once I'm gone, I would." In that moment, I realize what she meant. She places her hand over my left chest and presses in. We can feel my heart racing against my ribcage, and I reach over to hold her hand in mine. "It'll be better for me to leave now than to take a whole piece of you when I'm really gone."

"Stay with me, Chloe. Please."

"You'll find someone better," she lets out a heavy breath before continuing, her fingers running through my hair whilst the other hand explores my facial contours, "someone who can love you and not leave you at all. Someone who will look into those beautiful eyes and you can feel them staring right into your soul and makes your world go silent in that moment."

"Baby..."

She leans in for another kiss. "Goodbye, Beca Mitchell."

It's painful to say goodbye to someone you don't want to let go. But it's more painful to ask someone to stay when you know all they want is to leave.