I hated it when Finn hit my face the most. Sure, they all hurt the same, but the other bruises I could just cover with clothes and no one would even know they were there. The ones on my face, though, were almost impossible to hide without heavy make-up, which I hated. Fortunately, people very rarely came over, so I'd only have to do that if Finn was having a get-together, which was a problem in and of itself, because Finn didn't like me in make-up, either. He usually was careful not to make visible marks when he knew he'd have people over in the near future, though, so that was almost never a problem.

Still, once in a great while, we'd get a package that I'd have to sign for or something like that, and I'd have to deal with stares and looks of sympathy. I hated those the most. It's like these people knew what was happening. I didn't want anyone to know how weak I was, but it was so hard to hide when the evidence was written on my face

The other thing I hated about those bruises, though, was seeing them every time I looked in a mirror. I'd see the black and purple and blue marring my face, and I couldn't help but feel shame. Sometimes, it was shame that I'd made Finn do this to me again. Other times, it was because it was a reminder that I'd fallen short of being the perfect wife. On the rare occasion that I'd really look deep inside myself, I'd feel angry that he'd done this to me. I'd almost feel like this wasn't all my fault...that maybe he was the problem.

Then I'd remember that everyone loved him, and that everyone hated me before he came around, and I'd know that it wasn't him. In fact, sometimes, I'd feel like I deserved worse.

I made Finn his breakfast that morning, and he left with a smile and a kiss on my cheek. I was glad that he seemed to have let go of our fight from the night before, and I hoped that his good mood would last him through the day, so I wouldn't have to have another night like the one before.

About an hour after Finn left, I heard a knock on my door. I sighed. I really didn't want to answer it. I couldn't deal with the looks, and I was pretty sore from where he'd hit me. I'd even had a little trouble moving around while I was cleaning, so I just decided to not answer the door for once, hoping that it wasn't anyone to check up on me. It wasn't until I heard a voice on the other side of the door that I started to panic.

"Rachel? You in there?" It was Santana. She couldn't see me like this. She knocked again, and I spoke up.

"Um...yeah! I'm here!" I yelled, running towards the door, and immediately regretting moving so fast.

"Oh, good," she said. "I thought you might've gone out or something."

I groaned. If I'd just stayed quiet, she probably would've just gone away. Why did I have to be so stupid?

"No," I said, trying to think of something. "I was just...getting out of the shower. I didn't hear the door."

"Okay," she said with a little laugh. There was a moment of silence, then she spoke up again. "Do you think you could open the door? Not that I'm not enjoying talking to you through it, but-"

"You can't come in!" I said before I could stop myself. I was trying to keep my voice calm, but I was freaking out.

"Why not?" Santana asked, almost sounding worried. "Is everything okay? You sound a little weird."

I almost started hyperventilating. What was I supposed to say now? 'Oh, I'm fine, I just don't want you to see the huge bruise on my face from where my husband smacked me last night'? She'd probably think I was pathetic.

"I-uh-I'm fine! I just need to...get dressed. That's all. I don't want you to see me in just a towel. That would be rude." It made sense...sort of. I'd told her I was just getting out of the shower.

Santana laughed a little bit. "Alright. I'll wait here. Just don't leave me hanging too long. It's cold out here."

I sighed in relief. I went upstairs and took out my make-up kit. It was hard to cover the bruise without looking like a prostitute, or at the very least looking like too much for someone who's just having a friend over, but I did the best I could. A few minutes and a few tries later, and with a new outfit (I didn't want her to see me in my cleaning clothes again. I wanted to at least look presentable), I was satisfied with how I looked, and I ran back down the stairs.

When I opened the door, I was greeted with a smile from Santana. If it was possible, she looked even better than she had the day before. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a button-up, purple shirt. Her hair was down, and it fell over her shoulders in waves. She looked amazing, and it made me feel a little...strange. Nervous was the word that came closest to what I was feeling, but that wasn't quite right, either. It was a pleasant feeling, though, so I decided to just smile back and not question it.

"Hey," she said, and then she leaned in and hugged me. I went a little stiff, both from pain and surprise, and she pulled away. "Sorry. My best friend is pretty affectionate, and I think it's starting to rub off on me."

I smiled and shook my head. "No, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting it. Maybe we could try it again sometime."

Santana started to laugh, and I just wanted the earth to swallow me whole. Why would I say that? Now she was going to think I was some kind of freak. I was sure she was about to walk away, still laughing at how weird I was, but she just walked into the house.

"You're funny," she said as she looked around a bit, and I followed her. "I like it."

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's just I don't have people over very often."

"Nothing to be sorry about," she said, "So did you run upstairs to get yourself all dolled up?"

"I-I-no." I had hoped that she wouldn't notice. She raised an eyebrow at me, and I just hoped that she didn't somehow know the whole truth. "I just figured I'd put a little something on."

She looked at me for a moment, before saying, "You don't need it, you know. You look great without it, too." I just blushed at the compliment, and then we dropped into silence. It was a little awkward. I just didn't know what to say. Santana seemed so at ease with herself...so used to associating with people and being the center of attention. It was almost intimidating.

"Um...would you like something to eat?" I finally said. "I'd be happy to make you breakfast."

"Breakfast sounds great," she said. "I mean, if it wouldn't be to much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all!" I said, probably a little too enthusiastically, but I was just glad that she hadn't left yet. "I actually love to cook. What would you like? Waffles? Pancakes? I make some pretty tasty potato pancakes, although, they take a while to cook, so if you're really hungry right now..." I trailed off when I heard Santana laughing a little bit. "I was rambling again, wasn't I?"

She nodded. "I'll just take some waffles, thanks."

I nodded and got to work. We made small talk as I cooked. Turns out, Santana was a couple of years older than me, and had just graduated from UCLA with a business degree She'd moved with her best friend Brittany to Ohio to get a business started.

"Why here?" I asked as I made the waffles. "Why not just start something in LA?"

"Well, Britt and I wanted to do something together, and she's a dancer, so we figured we'd start a dance studio or something. Problem is, there's too much competition in California, so we decided middle America was a safer bet, at least as a place to start. We tried Cleveland, but it wasn't really working, but then Brittany met this guy Mike who's also a dancer, and he lives here and has a nice chunk of money, so we went into business with him, and now we've got a set-up."

"That's amazing," I said. "So do you dance, too?"

She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I can hold my own at the club, but I'm nothing compared to Brittany and Mike. I do all the messy paperwork while they do all the teaching. It's a pretty sweet deal for all involved, and we're already getting some pretty good buzz around town."

"I bet," I said. "I remember having to drive three towns over just to go to dance classes as a kid."

"You're a dancer?" Santana asked, and I shook my head. "But you used to dance?"

"Yes," I said. "But I haven't for a couple of years."

"Why'd you stop?" she asked.

"I suppose my priorities changed. You know how it is when you get older. Different things seem important." I couldn't keep the sadness out of my voice. I missed dancing almost as much as I missed singing, but I couldn't keep that up and be the perfect wife. Something had to give, so dancing went as soon as I graduated. I couldn't tell Santana all that, though.

She laughed. "Get older? You look like you just graduated high school a year ago."

"Two years ago, actually," I said.

"See what I mean?" she said. "You're practically a baby. You could always take it up again. I'd even give you a discount at my studio."

I laughed as I finished up the waffles. "Are you trying to trick me into coming to your studio? Is that why you came over today?"

"Maybe," she said with a cheeky grin as I gave her a waffle. Her eyes went wide when she looked at the plate. "Oh my God."

"What?" I asked. "Does it look bad? I can make you another one. Or maybe something else all together-"

"Rachel, this looks incredible!" she said. "When you said waffles, I didn't think you meant fruit-filled, whip cream covered Belgian waffles." She took a bite and moaned. I felt my knees go weak and my breath hitch.

"You like it?" I asked with an inexplicable waver in my voice.

She nodded. "I'm pretty sure it's the best thing I've ever had in my life." I smiled, feeling like I'd finally done something right. "Are you going to eat anything?"

"I ate earlier," I said.

"Oh," she said. "You didn't have to do this just for me. I could've eaten later or something."

I shook my head. "It's fine. Like I said, I love to cook."

Santana practically inhaled the waffle, and I just watched her with a smile. I loved it when I could make something that people liked.

"Well, I ate that embarrassingly fast," Santana said with a chuckle.

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"I hope it wasn't too disturbing watching me shovel food in my mouth."

I shook my head. She'd actually been quite delicate while eating, even though she ate so fast. At least there weren't crumbs all over the table and the floor like when Finn ate.

"You should be a chef or something," she said with a smile. "Seriously, that was better than anything I've eaten in a restaurant."

I laughed. "No, cooking's more of a hobby for me. I don't think I could really do that for a living."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't mind eating like that every morning," she said. "Although, I'm pretty sure I just ate enough calories for the entire week."

"I really don't think you have to worry about that. Your body is amazing." I didn't even know why I'd said it, but when I saw Santana's smile get even wider, I didn't really care.

"So what do you do, then?" she asked. "It must be pretty impressive if it got you this house. Do you work from here?"

"Oh, I don't work," I said. "Finn and his parents pay for everything. I just keep house, mostly."

"Who's Finn?" Santana asked. I was confused. Had I really not mentioned him? How could I have gone this long without bringing up my husband? He was usually one of the first things that I brought up in conversation. Then again, I was usually talking to his friends. Maybe that's why it hadn't come up yet.

"Finn's my husband," I said.

"Oh..." Santana said. She almost sounded...disappointed? That didn't make any sense, though. Why would she care? "How long?"

"Two years," I said.

"High school sweethearts?" she asked, and I nodded.

"We started dating junior year. We got married after graduation." I usually went into a lot more detail when I told that story, but I didn't think that Santana wanted to hear it.

"Charming," she said, and I could've sworn that she rolled her eyes. I felt like I'd done something wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. "You seem a little-"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just...didn't know. I guess I should've noticed the band on your finger. I just got the vibe that...nevermind. It's not important. I should go."

"What, now?" I asked, confused. "Why?"

"I've just got some stuff I need to do...for the studio," she said, standing up. "You understand. Thank you for breakfast."

"Santana, whatever I did to upset you-"

"It's not you, okay?" she said. "I just have things to do."

"Yeah, sure," I said as I watched her turn away and leave. I'd wanted to ask her if she'd come back, but she was out the door before I had the chance. I didn't know why she'd left in such a hurry. What had I done to make her run off like that? I felt like all I did was screw up. I'd done it last night during dinner, and I'd done it again now. I felt so frustrated with myself.

I cleaned up the dishes from Santana's breakfast and worked on the house a bit, but I felt a lot less motivated than usual. I just kept playing the day over and over again in my head. It had seemed like everything was going well, and then I mentioned Finn, and she just...left. Maybe she really had been just trying to bait me into coming to her studio. Maybe when she found out I wasn't the one with the money, she'd been irritated that she'd wasted her entire morning on me.

If that was true, Santana was one of the best saleswomen to ever grace this earth.

But no, that couldn't have been it. It's not like she knew I was a dancer when she came over. Besides, I really didn't want that to be true. She'd been so kind to me, and that didn't happen very often. Then again, the girls in high school had been kind to me, but that was only because I was attached to Finn. If he hadn't been a part of the equation, they would've never stopped torturing me.

I knew I was overanalyzing this, but how could I not? Santana's departure had seemingly come out of nowhere, and I just wanted an explanation. I'd even thought about going over to her house to ask her what I'd done, but I couldn't get up the nerve. I didn't want to know what it was if it meant that our entire pleasant morning had just been a sales pitch.

Finn came home that night, and he was in a much better mood than the night before. I was relieved; I didn't think that I could deal with him on top of my thoughts about Santana.

"Hello, sweetie," he said as he walked in the door.

"Hey," I said, grabbing his things and putting them away. "How was work?"

"Awesome," he said. "I found the money, and actually managed to sign a new account. Plus, my dad was able to pin the whole thing on Johnson, so I'm not getting in any trouble."

Mr. Hudson was always able to save Finn's job when something went wrong. It usually meant that someone else was getting fired for the mistake, and it was always someone that Finn didn't like.

"So is Johnson gone?" I asked, and Finn shook his head.

"Final notice, but I'm sure he'll screw something up and get fired. There's a lot to screw up at that place."

I nodded and finished up dinner. We sat at the table and ate mostly in silence before Finn finally spoke up.

"What's with all the make-up?" he asked me, and I almost froze before I was able to recover.

"I put it on just in case anyone stopped by," I said. "My face is a little off-color." Finn didn't like it when I brought up the bruises, so we'd established something of a code.

"Why would anyone stop by?" he asked, a little sharply. I took a deep breath. I couldn't tell him the truth. The night had been going well, and I didn't want to test that.

"Oh, you know some of the boys from work stop by from time to time to get paperwork," I said, keeping up with the code. "I just didn't want them to get the wrong idea."

Finn looked at me for a second, and I struggled to maintain eye contact. I didn't want him to see through my lie, but I knew if I looked away, he would know there was something else I wasn't telling him. After a short while, he nodded, and I had to focus to not smile in relief that he hadn't questioned me further. I didn't know how much longer I would've been able to deceive him.

"Just remember to wash it off before I get home next time," he said. "You know how I feel about make-up."

I nodded, glad that he was in a good mood. If he wasn't, just seeing me with make-up on would've set him off. The rest of the night went smoothly. I gave Finn a massage and we watched some TV before we went to bed. I almost jumped for joy when he said he was too tired to do anything with me that night. I should've been happy as I crawled into bed.

Still, I couldn't get Santana out of my mind. I just wished that I knew how to make it better. I feared that she would never come over again, and that thought alone almost made me sick. Two days with this girl, and she was already the best friend I'd had in quite some time.

I prayed that Santana would come back, then I fell asleep.