The ending of Sarah and Harry's story, will they or won't they?
It has been five years since Harry and Sarah have seen each other. Sarah is now 29 and she is happily living in New York and pursuing her career. Harry is now 30 and he is living in Ho...
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My hand raises up to the unfamiliar apartment door, my heart hammering in my chest as I wait for Kristina to answer. Years ago Kristina halfheartedly explained why she was moving, why she just couldn't live under the same roof as me anymore. Corey broke up not only me and Harry, but also my friendships with the people I love most.
I hear her scurrying around, slowly getting closer to the door. She isn't expecting me, and I wasn't preparing to even come here. But I've realized something in last few days, that I'm going to need her now more than ever.
The door swings open, Kristina standing on the other side. She's holding the door only open a crack, making sure that I can't get in unless I'm invited. A sharp pang stabs through my heart, hating that Kristina and I even have to act this way.
"Sarah?" She's looking at me as if I have two heads, as if she doesn't even remember giving me the address. Her hair is in a high bun, and her fingers are covered in paint. New York helped her realize that her passion had been for art and not partying.
"Can I come in? Please?" I beg her, hoping she'll see the desperation in my eyes and cave in. Kristina and I used to be inseparable, sisters that were never related. Now we're strangers, two friends that's used to have it all and know everything about each other. Now I don't even know where she likes to shop or eat.
"Are you okay?" Kristina is acting concerned, I can tell. It makes me want to run away and hide, hide because maybe I just can't confide in Kristina anymore. Maybe I don't have her love and support anymore, no matter how many times she insists that I do.
"I just really need to talk to you." With that, Kristina hesitantly lets me into her apartment. I glance around, just taking in the place that Kristina has been calling her own for the last five years. It's small but industrial, a Perez t fit for Kristina.
We walk around her art set up in the middle of the room, her floors stained with various colors of paint. She leads us over to her small leather couch, the both of us plopping down onto it and facing each other. I have her attention, nods the time to tell her.
"Hold my hand." Kristina gives me a confused look, her eyes glancing down at my outstretched hand. Again, she hesitantly puts her hand in mine, the both of us feeling awkward as I decide that it's time she knows the truth and only the truth.
Once I start talking it's as if I can't stop, as if I can't say enough about what Corey did to me and how I reacted. I tell her about my way of coping, about how I'd wished she would've stayed. I tell her about how badly I needed her, but also felt like I couldn't go to her because I had let her down.
Kristina pretty much cries throughout my whole confession, the both of us a sobbing mess by the end of it. Kristina doesn't interrupt me and she doesn't pull away. It's just us, and I feel safe telling my best friend everything. It feels as though some more of the weight has been lifted, as though I made the right choice in telling her.
