Happy New Year! Thank you to all who have commented, or favorited, or even just read the story. I'm so grateful for all of you and I hope you have a wonderful year. Here's chapter 4, hope you enjoy!

I just stand there with my phone to my ear. At some point he stops talking and it's too late balances on the tip of my tongue, teetering, but never falling out into the real world.

"Lara Jean? Are you still there?" he says, slurring his words. He sniffles. "Please still be there."

I breathe in deeply. "Yes Peter, I'm still here." My tone is flat, which is just the way I want it to be.

"Can you stay with me, please? On the phone, I mean."

"I don't know, Peter." Part of me wants to, but the other part of me says that I didn't deserve what he did to me so why should I? But that's the thing, isn't it? No matter how much you convince yourself that you want to say no, you really want to say yes. Because it'll be different this time.

But it won't. And you should know that by now.

I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep the tears in. I've cried enough already. I probably look gross and I really wish I had a tissue.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he whispers.

And then I realize. "Yes you did. You knew exactly what you were doing and what would happen. The only thing I don't know is why. So enlighten me, Peter." The words feel foreign as they roll off my tongue. This Lara Jean feels angry, and bold enough to say something like that. And I don't think I like her very much. So I take a breath, and I soften. "I just want to know why. Why'd you give up on us?"

"Because I…, Because…, I don't know." Words fail him.

"You don't know? That's all you have to say? " My voice is strained and wobbly.

"I can fix this," he says with determination. It doesn't come out slurred or tired or annoyed, just…, determined.

"There's nothing you can say to change any of this." I look up to the ceiling, my vision blurred again. "Go home Peter."

"I know you're hurt and angry and you have every right to be, but-"

"How would you know that, we haven't seen each other in months.," I throw his words back at him. "You don't know me anymore. And I don't know you anymore," I say with a tinge of sadness in my voice.

"I didn't mean that. I didn't mean any of it. I was in pain, and I didn't think about what I was doing, who I was hurting." He sniffles and then takes a deep breath in. "I'm humiliated." I can feel him holding in sobs. "I didn't want you to see me that way, Lara Jean."

"You didn't think that I'd love you no matter what?"

"I knew you would…," he says with a crack in his voice. "But I lost my scholarship, Lara Jean. I was about to become this college dropout with no idea what to do in the future and no plan B." My eyes widen and I flinch at his words.

"What?"

"I almost lost everything. And I didn't know what to do and I took that out on you, and I'm so sorry."

I don't pinch my nose anymore. I just let the tears fall freely. They drip off my chin and onto the floor, and I can see the carpet growing wetter and wetter. "I didn't know." Suddenly, I feel a wave of nausea pass over me. There's a war in my stomach. "How could I not have known?"

And he says three simple words that explain everything. The tension, the fights, the break up. "I never told you. I'm so sorry."

I muster up all the courage I have inside of me to say what I'm about to say. Because I know if I say it, it's not just his heart I'm breaking.

"Maybe that's just not enough anymore."

And this time, I hang up on him.

I go back inside and put my hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs. I crouch, with my back leaning against the door.

"Lara Jean?" a groggy voice comes through the darkness. Mellie turns on the light and walks towards me. "What happened? Are you okay?" She crouches down too, and puts her arm around me.

"It's P-P-Peter." I get out.

When I first met Mellie, I'd never thought that we would become friends. I don't even know now. She's my friend, but I don't know if I'm hers. I think that's one of the worst feelings to have. At some point in between delegating chores and listening to each other cry over the phone, I understood. And I think she did too. I remember the first time I cried over Peter, she told me all about how she and and her boyfriend would fight a lot as well. That so much of loving him, was fighting with him, that she started to question whether it was really worth it or not.

"Maybe it's when you stop fighting, that it's over," I say as if I'm still wide-eyed and hopeful that Peter will call me back and everything would be fine.

"Maybe. But my point is, if it ever gets to that point, you should know that you deserve better." She presses her lips together and tilts her head to the side. "I don't know your whole story with Peter, remember what I said? You know, how my mom always told me never to cry over a boy." When she was little, Mellie's dad had left, in order to have a family with someone else. She told me this when she and her boyfriend had their first fight and she forced herself to stop crying.

I look down at my lap. I'd always thought that I got really lucky with Daddy because he made our family feel whole after Mommy died, and now whenever I think of what Mellie said, I call Daddy. I wish things had been different for her. But she says that things happen the way they do for a reason.

I'd always thought that things that were meant to be will always find their way back to each other.

But maybe she's right.

She doesn't tell me not to cry tonight.

She just rubs my shoulder until I stop shaking so much. Then, she gets up and comes back with a box of tissues.

"Thanks."

She hesitates for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. There's nothing to say." It's like all the love has run out, and the ocean is drained.

"There's always something to say, LJ."

I dry my face with tissues but it feels like it's no use. I get up and offer a hand to help her. "I think I just need time. Thank you for waking up at this hour just to talk to me."

She nudges my shoulder with hers. " I did this for purely selfish reasons. Wouldn't want to live with a mopey Lara Jean." I give her a small smile for the effort.

We separate to our own sides of the room. I pull the blanket up to my chin just like the way Mommy would when I was little and couldn't sleep. We'd finish the Night Night tea and she'd pick me up in her arms and tuck me in. When I got older we'd have tea together but I'd said that I didn't need to be tucked in anymore. And so she didn't.

Now, I would give anything for her to do it again.

I close my eyes, and all I can see is Peter. Him driving me and Kitty to school, him putting his hand in my back pocket, him kissing me in the treehouse until I am breathless, him at the wedding, and finally, him sitting somewhere alone calling a Lara Jean who used to think the world of him. Only he didn't get that Lara Jean.

I get up, head over to my desk, and I do what I do best. I write another love letter. And I hold nothing back. Because Mellie was right, there's always something to say.

Dear Peter,

I've always believed in the fairytale romance. Love at first sight, first loves lasting forever, and soul mates. I hoped to find someone who could be that for me. And for that, I'm truly sorry. Because you're not prince charming, Peter. You're just Peter, and I should have just loved Peter, the boy. I didn't mean to push that on to you but maybe it did anyway. Maybe, despite you doing everything you can do to avoid something happening, it decides that it must happen anyway because you can't fight fate. Just like how I fell in love with you.

And despite everything, I still love you. I could never bring myself to hate you no matter how hard I try. But sometimes loving someone is just not enough, right? That's what you taught me. And I will always remember it. At some point, even before the letters stopped I knew you didn't love me as much as I loved you. Love you. And that's the only reason I can think of that explains why you gave up. When we said that we'd risk it all, I held nothing back from that point on. But you did, Peter. You did.

You're with Gen now, and I know you don't hold back with her. Because she just gets it. She's not innocent little Lara Jean who still thinks princes exist and happily ever after can happen. I thought that was what you loved about me. I suppose I was wrong.

I don't believe you when you say that you aren't better than this. I know the Peter Kavinsky who would drive my little sister and me to school every day, who set up Sixteen Candles scene for me, who would write me a letter every week when we started college. That'll always be a part of you. If only I could tell you this. If only you would believe it.

I would have loved you despite everything, Peter. Because that's the thing about love. It never gives up. And I may not have been able to help you or save you, but I would've tried. To me, that's all that matters. It's that you try, Peter.

So here we are. A billion worlds apart. And all I can think of, is how much I love you, and how much I'm going to love you for the rest of my life. It'll be less and less every day, but it will always be there. And that's okay. Because we had our time, and we have our proof that we loved each other. I would spend the rest of my life trying to figure out why, but I won't because don't I deserve better than that? Don't I deserve to move on?

It's too late for us now. Maybe we could have made it if you had said something, anything, but you didn't. It's all gone now. Because when I write, I know it's goodbye. I'm not just putting a bow on everything we've been through though. I will cherish what we had forever.

Do you remember the treehouse Peter? I hope you do, because it was where you first told me you loved me. Where we first became real. We'll probably never see each other again in this lifetime but I hope you know that that was my favorite moments of all the moments we had together.

I love you Peter Kavinsky, the boy who has my heart wholly, truly, completely.

Love,

Lara Jean

The page is wet with my tears and already, some of the ink is smudging off. I open my drawer to find an envelope. It's nothing fancy like the envelope I used for my first letter to him, but it'll have to do. I seal it and shove it in my bag.

I don't address it this time.