A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapters. I got to work on the story because my brother, who was supposed to stay for 3 nights, only stayed for one and then left this morning. And yeah, Puck is pretty much a douche right now….

Watchtower42 - Per your request, angst warning ahead!!! :)

Even though he'd lived in Cincinnati for four years, Puck had never really bothered to watch the sun rise over the Ohio River. But a scant four hours after he'd left Rachel's apartment in a panicked rush, Puck found himself sitting on a bench along the river, staring out at the water as the sun began to climb in the Eastern sky. He needed to go home – he was supposed to be at work in just a few hours– but the idea of going home to Kim with Rachel's scent still clinging to his body was too much for him to handle. So he'd driven around town some more, hoping that if he drove fast and far enough, the guilt and misery gnawing at his gut would stop trying to keep up with him.

What the fuck did I do? Those six words had become his mantra in the 240 minutes since he had run out on the only woman who had ever really believed in him, besides his own mother, in his entire fucking life. He knew, even as he was advancing through her apartment in the dark, trying to get the fuck out of there, that he was delivering a painful blow to her. Now, he'd wished he hadn't run. And even as he analyzed the situation minute by minute, which he had been doing, he still wasn't even sure how it had happened. He knew he was mad when he got there because she was cutting her from his life. But how did that anger translate into some hot-ass amazing sex with Rachel, who had suddenly become the only thing that could soothe his worry. How had the ended up in bed? And now, how the hell did they move on from it? Was there a way to move on from it at all or was it too far gone? Would she ever speak to him again?

He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets, and shivered as the chill of that May morning seeped into his pores. He stared across the river to the opposite bank, watching the cars move slowly in the early morning light. Why didn't I leave? Fuck, why did I even show up in the first place? Why didn't I stop when she told me to? What made me do it? Why did I need her so badly? And what the fuck do I do now?

Puck turned his head to watch the emerging sunlight cast a rosy glow on the bridges as morning rose of Cincinnati. The sunlight also seemed to illuminate his shame, anger, and guilt.

Shame for cheating.

Anger at Rachel for kissing him.

Shame for following her into that bedroom.

Guilt for everything that came next.

And brutal pain for the loss that he now felt and could do very little about.

"Goddammit!" He yelled, kicking the steel of the bench legs. He was an engaged man. He loved Kim, didn't he? He was planning on spending the rest of his life with her… And now he couldn't see past those moments in a moonlit bedroom with a woman who very much wasn't his fiancé…

Rachel.

Her name had always represented a safe haven to him. She had always offered him her friendship, her brutal honesty, and most importantly, she had faith in him when no one else ever did. But recently, he'd felt her pulling away; he'd felt her slipping through his fingers like fine sand and it made him forget how to breathe. So he'd tried to pull her closer; tried to remind her of their friendship and how much they'd meant to each other over the years. But all he'd done is ruin the friendship they'd had forever because of the inexplicable need he'd had to touch her skin to his; because of his inexplicable need to feel her as a lover instead of a friend. Puck realized, with a sick churning in his gut, that by pulling her closer, he might have just pushed her away forever. And the thought that she may go through the rest of her life without his name ever leaving her lips again was enough to bring him to his knees. What the fuck did I do?

When the sun was high over Cincinnati and the horrible situation he'd created was fully exposed in the daylight, Puck finally went back to his truck. Opening the glove compartment, he pulled the phone out that he'd discarded hours ago and turned it on. Once it started it up, he saw that he had 5 voicemails and 11 text messages. He knew Kim had probably stayed up all night, worried and crying. The guilt was like a sword through his already raging insides.

Kim.

She was an amazing woman. She loved him, he knew. They had a great relationship up until the wedding planning began. He hoped that they could have a great relationship again…didn't he? But how did he walk back into that apartment, make up with Kim, and pretend that his entire fucking world hadn't just been tilted on its axis. The weight of the world – his fucked up world – pressed against his shoulders until he felt so dizzy that he sagged into his bench seat. Nothing was normal and he didn't think it ever would be again.

Starting up his truck, he inhaled and swore he could smell Rachel's shampoo on his body. No way I'm going home smelling like her. Putting his truck in gear, Puck headed to the gym to work off some steam and wash off her scent. Later, after running on the treadmill for so long that his legs started to buckle, he stood under the shower spray. Closing his eyes, his heart thudded in his ears as he soaped his skin clean of that night, realizing even as he did so that he was washing away what may be his last tangible link to Rachel for a very long time.

Puck finally made it back to the apartment at 8am. When he parked, he noticed Kim's car in the lot and felt dread practically kick him in the balls. She should be at work. Fuck. Apparently she had the same idea he did about not going to work today…

He stood outside for a few minutes, fiddling with his truck in an an attempt to steel himself against the nausea he felt. Finally, inhaling deeply, he forced himself forward.

As Puck went to unlock the door, his stomach flipped and he lost his breath again. You can do this. Act casual. You didn't just cheat and destroy your relationship with your best friend because of a fight over a rabbi.

When he pushed open the door and stepped inside, Kim bolted from the couch and threw herself into Puck's arms.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Puck awkwardly patted her back with his hand, skin burning and betraying him with her in his arms.

I had sex with my best friend. I fucked Rachel.

"We have a rabbi confirmed. He is going to call my minister today to work out the details so that the ceremony goes off without a hitch." Her voice was full of tears and Puck felt his shirt become soaked as she continued to cry against him.

"Can you forgive me?" She looked up at him with her brown eyes swimming with tears. Puck's eyes widened. Brown eyes framed by big, dark lashes. Dark eyes that conveyed emotion and love and hurt and faith all with just a glance. Fuck. Rachel! I see it now. Holy fuck. She looks so much like Rachel in the eyes.... Oh God.

Puck closed his eyes against the constricting pain that gripped his chest. This is fucking torture. Why didn't I see it before? They look alike…what the fuck?

Pulling away and untangling herself from Puck's upper body, Kim wiped her red-rimmed eyes on her sleeve. "Where were you all night? I called and called. I was worried."

Puck turned as she was speaking and walked into the bedroom, not answering her question. She followed.

"Noah? Where were you?" She asked again.

"Uhh..." Puck began as he pulled his shirt over his head. I fucked Rachel. I had incredible, mind-blowing sex with Rachel and then I walked away from her like she was a one-night stand. "I drove around, closed down a few bars, and then watched the sun rise on the river. After that, I went to the gym and worked out. And now I'm home and I'm fucking exhausted." Puck pushed his pants off and climbed into bed, clad only in his boxers.

Kim watched him, looking like she wanted to say something. Finally, she spoke. "Okay, then. I'm going to head to work now. I called and told them I'd be late."

"I need to call in sick real quick, I guess." Puck grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket and left a message for his boss.

Kim changed into her scrubs and then walked to Puck's side of the bed. "I am sorry, Noah. I really am. I will try to be better about the wedding stuff." She bent and kissed him. When she pulled away, Puck forced himself to sound as relaxed and casual as possible, "I know, babe. I'll see you tonight."

With a soft "goodbye," she left. Puck noticed, as she disappeared, that she was built a lot like Rachel, too. Small, tight, trim, short…Dammit, the resemblance is torture. How have I not fucking seen it? Or did I just not want to see it?

Once he heard the front door close, he exhaled loudly and flipped onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he was relieved that she didn't suspect anything. I feel so guilty...but I can't tell her. I just can't....

Puck closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep. But every time he tried to clear his mind, he would see Rachel, naked and bathed in moonlight, begging him to fuck her. And then he would picture the way he ran out on her. And after that, he would gasp for air and wonder how he was going to get past this and go back to living the life he had before last night.

Rachel woke up a few hours after Puck had bolted, her eyes swollen from crying and her throat nearly stuck closed from thirst. She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of cold water. Taking a big drink, she padded back into her bedroom and grabbed her phone. Dialing her director, she reported an illness for rehearsal. There was no way she could go to work today. She sent Wren a text message that told him that she was sick and contagious and that she would call him later. I don't need to see him today.

Then she climbed back into bed, smelled the scent of sex still heavy on the sheets, and felt sick. She could still feel the burn of her thigh muscles as proof that he had been there. Her lips were still swollen as proof of his kisses. Her body on fire from the memory of the night before, she cried until she fell asleep again.

When she awoke again, it was late afternoon. Her head was pounding and her vision was blurry. Out of habit, she checked her phone. No missed calls. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

C'mon Rachel...you knew he wouldn't call yet.

She wanted to call him and scream at him because it would make her feel better. Instead, she grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch, which didn't smell like the scent of betrayal and heartbreak that had infiltrated her bedroom. She would deal with life tomorrow. Today was all about the death of a friendship...and her heart.

The second day, Rachel decided to rejoin the living. She forced herself out of bed early, put ice packs on her eyes to try (in vain) to reduce the puffiness from the gallons of tears her body had miraculously produced for her to shed, and then she went out to face the world again. Rehearsal went fine and everyone ignored Rachel's swollen eyes and pale face. She avoided Wren except for when she absolutely couldn't. At the end of rehearsal, she called out that she had an appointment and zipped away from him before they could talk. She hadn't figured out what to do about Wren yet. She had cheated on him...she felt like he should know. The honest part of her wanted to disclose it immediately and beg for his forgiveness. But the other part of her wanted to forget it had ever happened...forget that Noah and their entire relationship had ever happened. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to act like everything is fine when nothing is right.

When she got into her car, she checked her phone but there were still no calls from Noah. Her chest felt so tight that she rolled down the window and sucked in a few quick breaths of the spring air. What would he say, anyway? What is there to say? He said everything when he bolted....

When she hadn't heard from him in three days, the gnawing in her stomach that even Pepto-Bismol couldn't shake slowly turned into something very different. Rachel was mad.

Furious.

Enraged.

She wanted to rip his eyes out so that he could never look at her with them again.

Balling her fists, she stared around her apartment, looking for something to throw. After a futile search and the realization that her belongings were too nice to throw, she decided that instead, she was going to give him a piece of her mind right now.

Grabbing her phone, she called his number. It rang once and went to voicemail. An hour later, she tried again with the same result. In the end, each of her three calls went to voicemail after just one ring. She knew that trick; he was avoiding her.

Rachel, seething now, typed out a text message that simply said: You can't pretend it didn't happen. With a glare at his name on her phone, she hit "send."

Puck saw Rachel's number flash up on the screen for the third time that day and the burning in his throat began again.

You have to stop avoiding her.

He knew he had to talk to her eventually. He knew that avoiding her was only making things harder for both of them. But still, he pressed the "ignore" button, sending her to his voicemail for the third time.

What the hell do I say? Sorry I fucked you. Hope you aren't upset. I screwed up. Can we pretend that everything is okay? Can we go back to the day before that, when we weren't talking much but at least our friendship had a future? Can I pretend that I don't feel you every time I close my fucking eyes now?

Just then, his phone with a beeped with a text message from Rachel.

You can't pretend it didn't happen.

He read it and then re-read it, staring at it like it was Rachel herself. Her anger seemed to spew from every letter. His chest clenched with guilt again and the tug and pull that had wracked his brain began all over again.

Kim.

Rachel.

Kim.

Rachel.

Oh, God…Rachel.

Gripping the phone tightly, he flung it across the room, yelling, "Yes, I can," at it as it flew into the bookshelf.

Kim walked into the living room at that moment and saw the very angry look on Noah's face. He'd been acting weird for days. He was cold, seemed very distracted and horribly sad, and most of the time, it was like he was looking through her instead of at her. And it scared the hell out of her.

"Baby?" She walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. Dropping her arm around him, she asked, "What's wrong? You've been quiet for days now." Her voice was laced with worry and concern.

Puck closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. I cheated on you and fucked my best friend because I was mad at you. "Nothing. I'm just tired." I'm pretending that Rachel doesn't exist because it's less painful than dealing with reality. Except I can't pretend she isn't around because you look just like her, dammit. "The wedding stuff is exhausting and I'll just be glad when it's over."

Kim dropped her head against his shoulder. "Ten days from now, we'll be man and wife and all the stress will be behind us." Her voice was soft and wistful; she had no idea of the guilt and pain raging inside her fiancé's head.

"You're right, Kim," he finally offered, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. Ten days from now, if I am still in this much hell, I'm not sure that I'm going to be alive. This is killing me. Pain like this has to cause death eventually.

They reclined on the couch, not speaking, as they settled into silence. Puck ignored the pain in his chest as he studied the shape of Kim's lips and compared them to Rachel's. Nearly fucking identical.

"Things will get better soon, you'll see," she promised.

Puck said nothing. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out all thoughts of Rachel from his brain.

It was a mistake.

It didn't mean anything.

He quietly laughed as those thoughts ran through his mind. It was so easy to lie to himself if he tried.

Five days after their night together, Noah's silence was so loud that it reverberated through her apartment like a blood-curdling scream.

He's not going to call.

He doesn't care.

I don't matter.

I wonder if I ever really did.

As the tears ran down her nearly-raw cheeks, she spoke aloud to the room, "If you were trying to break my heart, Noah. It worked. I'm broke. I am completely and utterly broken. I have nothing left."

And at that moment, she made the decision: she was done with Noah Puckerman. He had used her, plain and simple. It had been nothing more than a quick fuck to take the edge off the anger he felt at his future wife – at the woman he actually wanted. After all those years of friendship, she had meant nothing more than any of the sluts he used to bring home in high school and college.

It's over. It's all over.

I'm never going to speak or even see him again. It's the only way.

Instead of more tears, like Rachel had expected, she felt relief. Her heart had been too wrapped up in him, and in the hope of him, for too long. She needed to learn to breathe again. She had to figure out how to suck in a breath that didn't contain the taste of him. She needed to forget that this whatever she had with him had ever happened. She needed to forget that he even existed.

Rachel stood in front of the window in her apartment, staring out as dusk overtook Cincinnati and slowly blanketed it in darkness. The town was too small for the both of them. Even if they never spoke again, it was inevitable that they would cross paths. Kim would be on his arm, probably smiling adoringly up at her husband, and they'd run into each other and Rachel would die all over again. I can't do that. I can't live like that.

But Noah wasn't talking to her and instead, had decided that it was easier to pretend that she didn't exist anymore.

Fine. If that's how he wants it, that's how it will be.

Turning from the window, Rachel walked to her desk and fired up her laptop.

I don't need him.

I don't matter at all.

I was nothing more than a means to an end.

Angrily hitting the keys, she typed out the web address to Southwest Airlines.

Perusing the destinations and sales, she saw an attractive location. Clicking on the link, she read. It had a great arts community, was in a gorgeous setting, and most importantly, it was over 2000 miles away from the mess that had become her life. She clicked on the "Buy Ticket" button, clicked the perfect departure day, and entered her credit card information. A few minutes later, she was printing out her itinerary.

If he's done with me, I'm done with him.

Next, Rachel looked up the name of a cross-country moving company. Finding their number, she called them.

Two hours later, she had everything arranged.

She was leaving Cincinnati.

She was leaving Ohio.

She was leaving him.

Packing up her memories proved to be a more difficult task than she thought it would be. Rachel didn't want to take needless junk with her to her new home so she had to spend a lot of time going through things. Starting in her bedroom, where she knew she had old clothes she could part with, seemed like the easiest solution. Yanking open drawers, she tossed the contents on her bed and began to go through them. She sorted through most of her things until she found a folded grey shirt. Unfurling it, she stared sickly at the "McKinley Football" printed across the front. Noah's shirt. She glared at the shirt, attempting to transfer her anger to the shirt's original owner. Timidly, she picked up the shirt and brought it to her nose. It didn't smell like him; she knew it wouldn't. Admonishing herself for her stupid moment of weakness, she yanked it away from her nose, used it to wipe up a stray tear that had escaped from her eye and then grabbed a small box, tossing it inside.

Later, she was pulling framed pictures off of shelves and fighting the urge to toss them across the room. Six of her 12 pictures included she and Noah at various places, smiling for the camera. She looked at a picture of them at his graduation and shot a dirty look at the stupid girl staring back at her.

"Idiot," she said to the younger version of her that was frozen happily in time. "He doesn't love you."

She threw the picture on the couch and grabbed the next one. This one was from one of their trips home to Lima. "If you would have run away then, you wouldn't have to do it now," she told the less mature version of herself.

"I hate you," she said to the 3-inch Noah beaming up from her in the frame. "I hate you...." She repeated the words, trying them on for size. They seemed to fit okay but as she walked around with them in her chest, she realized that while they fit, they weren't a good look on her. I don't want to hate. I just want to forget.

Rachel finally grabbed five of the six pictures and threw them in the box with his jersey. Keeping one, the one taken at her own graduation, she wrapped it in tissue paper and packed it in the box marked "Living Room."

When Rachel had cleaned out most of her apartment, the small box now contained his shirt, five pictures, several CDs that obviously weren't hers (Nirvana? Really?), a stuffed bear that he had won for her at a college carnival once, and a random pair of socks of his that she had found mixed in with her stuff in the sock drawer. Once everything was packed in the box, she angrily taped it closed and quickly scrawled his address across the top of the box. She would mail it before she hopped her plane. One last "fuck you" to my old life, she thought bitterly.

The Saturday before the wedding, a mere seven days before he was supposed to marry Kim, Puck sat alone on the bed in their bedroom. Kim was at work, trying to pick up a few extra hours before the honeymoon, when they would be gone for an entire month. Kim's parents had surprised them at dinner the night before and presented them with a month-long honeymoon tour of Europe as part of their gift for the young couple. Kim was ecstatic. Puck tried to be. He didn't give a fuck about Europe right now. He could barely stand to leave him own apartment, let alone the country. But Kim was excited, chattering on and on about all they'd see as she perused the itinerary, hugged her parents, and read the stack of pamphlets that came with the gift. As she rambled and rambled, Puck was struck again with how much she reminded him of Rachel. And it was like fucking salt in the huge gashes that had been torn in his gut in the past week. In the past, he would have called Rachel to bitch about how a trip to Europe was the last thing they actually needed as a wedding gift. But now, he could only laugh bitterly because he had no one to call. He knew he had to talk to her. He missed her so goddamn much that he was drowning in it. He was like a fucking sinking ship and he could tell no one. Nobody would probably even discover he was even missing until he'd gone under completely.

As he sat on his bed, he tried to shake the misery from his body. I can't live like this. I can't do this. If I just make things right with Rachel, I think I'll be okay. I need to apologize. I need to tell her that I freaked out. I need to explain why it happened, why I pursued her that night…except that I don't know why I did. I don't know what made me think it was a good idea. And because of that, he didn't call and he didn't bolt from his bedroom and drive to her apartment at a hundred miles an hour and beg her to forgive him. Instead, he muttered, Rachel, I'm sorry," and then sat in silence, unable to move at all.

"But Rachel, this is insane. Why did you just walk in and resigned mid-production like that?" Wren's brow furrowed at the brunette in front of him. They were standing in the parking garage that was attached to the theater. It was Wednesday now; just three days before Puck started his new life with Kim and Rachel started her new life far, far from him and Kim.

"I'm sorry, Wren. I...I just have to leave." She didn't know what to say without revealing the extent of her betrayal and heartbreak.

"Why would you leave? Your whole life is here? Your job...me...Puck."

Rachel involuntarily flinched at his nickname and pain flashed into her eyes. Wren saw the range of emotions on her face, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Finally, he spoke. "So this is about him, huh?"

Rachel said nothing, just stared at him with an intense gaze. She wouldn't lie but she didn't have to. Wren thought back to her calling in sick, her avoidance of him, her swollen eyes, the soulless gaze that seemed to have taken her over, and knew exactly what had happened.

Wren let out an angry sigh and leaned against his car. "When did it happen?"

Her eyes dropped and her cheeks reddened. "Eleven...Eleven days ago..."

"So you've been hiding it this long? I'm shocked, Rachel. It's not like you." He looked at her, his eyes showing pain but not anger. "So are you two running away together?"

Rachel closed her eyes. "No. I just need to leave....I have to get away for good."

"Where are you going?"

Rachel almost blurted it out but contained herself at the last moment. "I...I don't know yet."

"I wish I could say that I was surprised, Rachel, but I'm not."

"Wh...why do you say that?"

Wren turned and met her gaze. "Really, Rachel? I've seen the way you look at him when you think I'm not looking. I've known from practically the beginning that I was just a stand-in for him. I knew I couldn't ever really compare to him but I just...I just thought I would eventually win you over. But it looks like he won, after all."

Rachel snorted bitterly. "Wren, he didn't win. I'm leaving because of him."

Wren thought for a moment, then pulled out the keys to his car and unlocked it. Opening the door, he said, "If I don't have you, he won, regardless of what happened....Goodbye, Rachel."

Climbing into his car, he drove away. Rachel stood and watched him leave, guilt settling in her stomach next to the anger, rage, heartbreak, and betrayal that were already stewing within. At least she had been honest with him. It made it easier to deal with.

Two days before the wedding, Puck went to the shop to pick up his tuxedo. After paying (and reeling at the price), he hung it neatly in his truck and then headed home. Realizing that the tuxedo store was only a few blocks from Rachel's apartment, he suddenly found himself sitting outside her building. It was the middle of the afternoon so he assumed she would be at rehearsal. However, her car was parked across the street. He looked up into her window, wondering what how she was. Does she think about it? Or is she trying to block it out like I am? Two times, Puck pushed open the door to his truck. I have to talk to her. I have to see her. Two times, he pulled it closed again.

The third time, he found himself out of the truck and walking toward the building, his heart pounding in his chest. I'm so screwed up. I don't know how to get past this. I have to apologize and hope that someday, she'll forgive me.

His steps slowed as he neared the door until he stopped completely. She doesn't want to see you, Asshole. Not after what you did.

Shaking his head, Puck walked back to his truck and climbed in. His eyes traveled up to her bedroom window and then he saw it in his mind, felt it all over again. Every touch. Every kiss. The moaning. The way he'd felt so hard and large inside her small, tight body. The way she'd clamped down around him as she came....it all rushed back. Swearing against the shudder that wracked his body, he started his truck back up and slammed it into gear, pealing away.

"No, Dad…I have to do this," Rachel cried into the phone. She felt like she was breaking her father's heart by leaving.

"But Rachel, what happened that is making you give up your great gig and move all the way out there?" She could hear the frustration in his voice.

"Noah," she said softly.

"What about him? I mean, I know his wedding is tomorrow but…ohhh… Is that it, Rachel? The wedding."

The tears dripped from Rachel's cheeks as she said, "Partly, Dad…yes."

"And the rest?" he prodded.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel confided to her father a very sanitized version of what had happened nearly two weeks before. When she was done, her father sat in stunned silence.

"Dad?" she finally asked.

He cleared his through. "Sorry, kitten…I just wasn't expecting to hear that, I guess."

"I know, Dad…I'm sorry if it disappoints you. But I'm pretty disappointed in myself…and in him…"

"Rachel, what do you want me to tell him if he calls looking for you?"

Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Noah calling her father. "He won't do that, Dad. He's going on a honeymoon after the wedding anyway. He won't even know I'm gone for a few weeks. But if he does, don't tell him anything. I don't want to hear from him. I don't want to talk to him. I need to forget him."

"Okay, baby." Her father's voice was sad. "I wish I could hug you, honey. But please call me when you get there."

"I will, Dad. As soon as I get there, I'll get my new phone number and give you a call."

"I love you, Rachel. Be safe."

"I will, Dad, I promise. I love you, too."

"Bye, honey…"

"Bye, Dad…"

Friday night, the night before his wedding to Kim, Puck was sitting at his dining room table with a plate of food in front of him. Kim and her bridesmaids had checked into a hotel for pampering and girl talk. Puck had bowed out on a bachelor party that Kim's cousins wanted to throw. Instead, he was alone. And that's what I deserve, he couldn't help but think. He was getting married tomorrow but he was an unfaithful cheater. And how in the fuck was he supposed to act normal tomorrow if Rachel showed up?

He emitted a bitter chuckle at the thought. She wasn't going to show up. After what had happened, there was no way in hell she'd be there. And then when his mother and sister and some of their mutual college friends all grilled him about where Rachel was, he would have to come up with a convincing lie to cover for her glaring absence. "She's sick," sounded like a lame excuse to use for her missing his wedding. I fucked her. And now I'm ignoring her. And I'm pretty sure that I've lost her forever and I can't do anything about it because I'm an asshole who never deserved her friendship in the first place.

Yeah, he was fucked tomorrow.

Dear Tina,

This is hard for me to say but I have to say it. I am leaving Cincinnati. Actually, I'm done with Ohio. I have to leave. Things went too far with Noah and we can never go back to where we were. He is getting married tomorrow and all I know is that I need to be anywhere but here. So I'm leaving. Actually, after I send this email, I'm calling the cable company and having my internet connection shut off and my email account disabled. My cell phone will be disconnected in the morning. And as he is saying his vows, promising to love her forever tomorrow, I will be in the air, getting as far away as I can from him and the mess we've created.

Don't worry about me, T. I will contact you with all my new information once I figure out where I'm going to be and what I'm going to do. On the off chance that Noah decides to contact you to see if you've heard from me (and I don't anticipate that he will since he's been ignoring me for two weeks), please don't tell him anything. He doesn't need to know anything beyond the obvious facts: he had sex with me and then he left after telling me what a mistake I was. So now I'm leaving him.

I will be in touch, T. And I reiterate, don't worry about me. I know you will anyway and I adore you for it but I promise, I'll be fine. I need time to heal and move on. I'm not spending another day of my life hoping for something that was futile to begin with.

All my love,

Rachel

Next up: The wedding day…..