Hello, guys!

A few story threads are closing with this chapter. The Jenna situation is resolved, finally. But I also added one Emison thread that was very important early on but then, as with many things in PLL, it was never mentioned again. I think it was definitely worth it to address this in this chapter.

I really hope you enjoy this! I swear things will be moving forward after that.

With love,

White Tigresss

Chapter 5 - The Perfect Storm

The air outside the police station felt lighter than Alison expected, but the weight of what came next pressed heavily on her chest. Veronica's reassuring hand on her shoulder as they reached the car was both grounding and a reminder of the fragile relief this moment brought. Toby's statement had set her free, legally at least. The rest was up to her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hastings," Alison said quietly as they stopped by the car. "For everything."

"You're not done yet," Veronica replied, her tone firm but kind. "This is your chance to rebuild what's left—don't waste it."

Alison nodded, her mind already spinning through the tangled threads she'd need to pull. Emily's trust. The group's forgiveness. Her own redemption.

Veronica dropped Alison at the hospital, her heart heavy with guilt and gratitude. She had to see Toby, had to understand why he had stepped in for her. She didn't deserve it—not after everything she had done. Her younger self had been driven by selfish motives, weaving secrets into her already tangled web. Toby had been one of them. She should've protected him back then, but instead, she'd stayed silent.

Alison entered her friends' room, her gaze immediately finding Toby. The others froze, sensing something significant had shifted.

"Why did you do it?" Alison asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Toby met her eyes steadily. "I did what I had to do."

"Wait, what's going on?" Spencer interjected, frowning as she and the others looked between them.

Alison took a breath, steeling herself. "Toby gave a statement to the police. He told them the Jenna Thing happened because I knew that Jenna was raping him and that was me trying to protect him."

Hanna's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."

"Toby, why would you do that?" Spencer pressed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Because Alison going to jail now wouldn't help anyone," Toby said firmly. He turned back to Alison, his tone softening. "You've already paid the price for things you didn't do. This… this was enough. If you still feel like you need to atone, know that you already have."

Alison's throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to deny she deserved forgiveness, but the words wouldn't come. She nodded silently.

"What happens now?" Emily asked from her bed, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

"The police told me I'm free to go," Alison said quietly. She glanced at Toby, her chest tightening. "Thanks to him."

"You owe him big," Mona quipped, breaking the tension with a wry smile.

"I know," Alison said, her voice soft. She turned to Toby again. "Thank you. Really."

"You're not the same person you were, Ali," Toby said with a small smile. "Give yourself some credit."

Alison nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her gaze shifted to Emily, who had been uncharacteristically silent. She approached the bed cautiously, her chest constricting when she noticed Emily leaning away slightly.

"Em…" Alison began hesitantly.

"I'm not ready," Emily said, cutting her off. Her voice was firm, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil beneath.

"I know," Alison said, her voice breaking just enough to reveal her vulnerability. "I just want you to know… whenever you are, I'll be here. For whatever you need."

Emily didn't reply, her gaze dropping to her hands. Alison lingered for a moment, then nodded to herself and stepped back. The weight of unspoken words followed her as she walked out of the room, leaving behind the people she had hurt but still hoped to rebuild her life with.

The hospital corridors seemed quieter now, the distant hum of machines and faint chatter from nurses a backdrop to Alison's thoughts. She didn't head straight home after leaving the room. Instead, she found herself wandering, her feet taking her to the hospital's small courtyard garden.

There, she sat on a cold bench, her hands clasped tightly around her phone. Emily's words echoed in her mind: "I'm not ready." The rejection wasn't a surprise, but it still stung.

"Figured I'd find you here."

Alison looked up to see Caleb approaching, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He didn't sit down immediately, instead standing a few feet away, studying her.

"What do you want?" Alison asked quietly, not in the mood for a lecture.

"To make sure you're okay," Caleb replied simply. When Alison gave him a skeptical look, he added, "Look, I know we haven't exactly been best friends, but I know what it's like to feel like you're on the outside looking in."

Alison let out a bitter laugh. "That obvious, huh?"

Caleb shrugged and sat down beside her. "You're not exactly hiding it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Alison toyed with her phone, her mind racing. Caleb finally broke the silence.

"You know, Emily's tough, but she's not invincible. She's just trying to protect herself and the girls. But she also loves fiercely. You've just got to give her time."

"I don't know if time is enough," Alison murmured, her voice cracking slightly. "I've made so many mistakes, Caleb. What if I've burned all my bridges?"

Caleb leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then you build new ones. Look, nobody's saying it's going to be easy. But if you're willing to put in the work, Emily will see that. She always does."

Alison glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Caleb smirked. "Because I've been where you are. And because Hanna would kill me if I didn't at least try to help."

A small smile tugged at Alison's lips. "Thanks."

Caleb stood, stretching slightly. "Don't mention it. Just… don't give up, okay? You've come too far to stop now."

Alison watched as he walked away, his words lingering in her mind. Maybe Caleb was right. Maybe there was still a way to prove to Emily that she could be trusted again.

BREAKING NEWS: Toby Cavanaugh Exonerated in Stepsister's Accident Case

Former Rosewood Police Department officer Toby Cavanaugh has been officially exonerated in connection to the accident that left his stepsister Jenna Marshall blind, sources close to the investigation confirmed. Mr. Cavanaugh, who had previously served time in juvenile detention for the incident, has been cleared following new evidence and a sworn statement revealing the true circumstances of the case.

Initially convicted based on circumstantial evidence, Mr. Cavanaugh was accused of causing the accident. However, it has come to light that the incident was caused by another individual acting to protect Mr. Cavanaugh from sexual abuse. In a surprising turn, Mr. Cavanaugh chose to shoulder the blame at the time to avoid escalating tensions with Ms. Marshall.

While the Rosewood PD has acknowledged the error in Mr. Cavanaugh's conviction, they have not commented on how the investigation was mishandled or whether Mr. Cavanaugh will receive any restitution. Legal experts note that such cases often lead to civil lawsuits or formal apologies, though neither has been announced.

Attempts to reach Jenna Marshall's legal team for comment were unsuccessful.

This development raises significant questions about the procedures used in the original investigation and the broader implications of systemic flaws in the justice system. Further analysis is expected as the story continues to unfold.

A few days later, the girls were finally released from the hospital. Though relieved to return to the familiar comfort of home, Emily felt a weight pressing on her chest. This was only the beginning. The scars the dollhouse had left weren't just on her body—they were carved into her very being.

Pam held her hand tightly as they climbed the porch steps, her grip a silent lifeline. Emily squeezed back, grateful for her mother's unspoken understanding. The streets outside had felt too loud, too chaotic—car horns blared, footsteps echoed too sharply, and every sudden sound sent her heart racing.

"Do you want me to stay a while?" Pam asked softly as they reached Emily's bedroom door.

Emily shook her head. "I'm okay, Mom." It wasn't true, but she didn't want to worry her.

She hadn't told Pam—or anyone else—the full truth about the dollhouse. How could she explain the things she'd endured? Even thinking about it made her stomach churn. For now, it was easier to keep the details locked away, a secret she couldn't yet face.

When Emily entered her old bedroom, a cold shiver ran down her spine. The walls were the same soft lavender, her swim trophies gleaming on the shelf, but the room felt alien. Every corner carried echoes of the dollhouse—a replica so perfect that the familiar now felt foreign.

She dropped her bag by the door and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the worn quilt beneath her hands. It smelled faintly of home, of safety, but that comfort felt distant. The dollhouse might have been behind her physically, but it lingered in her mind, a shadow she couldn't shake.

Recovery was going to be a long road, and Emily wasn't sure she even knew where to start.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. Emily sat on the floor, her back against her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. The soft yellow walls seemed to press inward, heavy with memories she didn't want to relive.

A knock on the door startled her.

"Em?" Hanna's voice was tentative. Without waiting for permission, she pushed the door open and peeked inside. "Your mom let me in. I thought maybe you'd want some company."

Emily offered a faint smile but didn't get up. "Thanks, Han."

Hanna hesitated before stepping fully into the room. "It feels weird, huh? Being back here?"

Emily nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I feel like I don't belong anymore. Like this isn't my life."

Hanna sat beside her on the floor, her knees brushing Emily's. "You're not the only one. I keep thinking about him. About Wilden."

Emily shivered. "It was all him. The dollhouse, the text messages, everything."

"Yeah," Hanna whispered. "I keep trying to wrap my head around it. How could he—" Her voice broke off, her hands clenching into fists. "How could we not see it?"

Emily swallowed hard, her voice brittle. "We weren't supposed to see it. That's the whole point of someone like Wilden. He hid behind his badge, his authority."

They sat in silence, the weight of the truth pressing down on them.

Hanna reached out and took Emily's hand, squeezing it tightly. "We'll get through this. Together."

Emily blinked back tears, her voice thick. "I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am," Hanna said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Em. And I'll be here."

Emily exhaled shakily, a small spark of warmth breaking through the coldness in her chest. "Thanks, Han."

Hanna smiled faintly. "Anytime."

Later that evening, Emily sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea that had long gone cold. She hadn't moved much since Hanna left, still lost in thought, replaying the moments in the dollhouse and the recent revelation about Wilden.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway jolted her from her thoughts. Moments later, Pam entered the kitchen, her expression warm but tired. "Hey, honey. You okay?"

Emily hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just… thinking."

Pam placed her bag on the counter and walked over, sitting across from Emily. "You've been through a lot," she said gently. "You don't have to go through it alone, you know."

Emily looked away, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. "It's just… hard to talk about. I don't even know where to start."

Pam reached out, placing a hand over Emily's. "Start wherever you feel comfortable. Or don't. Just know I'm here when you're ready."

Emily's throat tightened. She wanted to tell her mom everything, but the words wouldn't come. "Thanks, Mom," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence for a while before Pam spoke again. "The police called earlier."

Emily's head snapped up, her heart pounding. "Why?"

"They wanted to let us know that the investigation into Wilden is being closed officially. They've pieced together enough to understand what he did."

Emily's hands clenched around her mug. "So, that's it? Case closed?"

Pam nodded solemnly. "It's over, at least legally. But I know that doesn't mean it's over for you."

Emily swallowed hard, her mind racing. "How can it be over when it still feels like he's everywhere? Like he's watching?"

Pam leaned forward, her gaze steady. "Because he's not. He's gone, Emily. And he can't hurt you anymore."

Emily wanted to believe her mom, but the shadows of the dollhouse and Wilden's twisted games still loomed large in her mind. "I hope you're right."

Pam smiled softly. "One step at a time, sweetheart. We'll get through this together."

Emily nodded, the faintest glimmer of hope flickering in her chest. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe this was the first step toward reclaiming her life.

While Emily was working on herself, Alison was also focusing on her mental health. After everything—running away, coming back to Rosewood, being sent to jail, and breaking out to save her friends—she was exhausted. Alison knew she couldn't keep pushing through without addressing her own issues; if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to support Emily and the others.

That's how she found herself sitting in Dr. Lexa Woods' office on a Wednesday afternoon. Lexa, an attractive woman with green eyes, chestnut brown hair, and fair skin, had a quiet strength in her demeanor. The dedication in her gaze reminded Alison of a general in some fictional military setting.

"So, you're the famous Alison DiLaurentis," Lexa started, breaking the ice. "I usually don't research my patients before our sessions, but your name… well, it's hard to miss."

Alison chuckled. She was no stranger to being a topic of conversation in Rosewood, especially after everything that had happened over the past few years.

"It's everywhere," she agreed.

"How do you deal with that?" Lexa asked, leaning forward slightly.

Alison paused before replying, her voice soft. "It's suffocating, if I'm being honest. I used to dream about this kind of immortality, you know? But now, I see how wrong I was. All I really want is a calm, stable life for once."

Lexa nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. From what I've gathered, that's something you've never really had."

Alison sighed. "I don't think I ever had it. Not really."

Lexa's brow furrowed. "Why do you feel that way?"

"Because I was a terrible person before I disappeared," Alison admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I hurt a lot of people, including my best friends. I pushed away the one I love."

Lexa sighed deeply, her tone gentle but firm. "Alison, you can't change the past. But what you can do is recognize how far you've come. It's clear you've grown, and seeing that growth is part of the healing process. The burden shouldn't fall on you alone, though."

Alison looked up, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"I have a feeling your family wasn't exactly ideal," Lexa said, her voice thoughtful. "Most kids don't become bullies just because. They act out because they feel insecure or powerless and need to regain control. That sounds like it might have been part of your story."

Alison sat back in the chair, feeling the weight of Lexa's words. The silence between them was thick, filled with all the unspoken thoughts Alison had carried for so long. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter than before.

"I just feel like I've spent so much of my life being someone I wasn't. A version of myself that I thought I needed to be, just to survive." She looked down at her hands, fidgeting nervously. "And now, I don't know who I am without all those walls."

Lexa tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. "That's understandable. You've spent so much time fighting for control and approval that you never really had the chance to figure out what you want or what makes you happy."

Alison felt a knot in her stomach. "I don't even know what that would look like anymore."

"Well," Lexa said, her voice gentle but firm, "that's part of the journey. You can't just focus on the past and what you've done wrong. It's just as important to focus on what you can do now, moving forward. And part of that is figuring out who you are beyond the labels that others have placed on you."

Alison furrowed her brow. "How do I even start?"

"Start small," Lexa suggested. "Try to find something that excites you. Explore hobbies or activities that you've never considered before. You might not be sure what you like at first, but it's important to give yourself that space to discover. Whether it's art, reading, cooking, anything that helps you reconnect with yourself."

Alison leaned forward slightly. "You think that'll help me find myself?"

Lexa smiled, a warm, encouraging expression. "It's a process. And you don't have to figure it out overnight. The goal isn't perfection, Alison. It's about learning what makes you feel good, what gives you peace, and most importantly, learning to enjoy the moments for yourself—not for anyone else."

Alison took a deep breath, her mind racing. "I guess that makes sense. It's just hard to believe I can start over sometimes."

"You're not starting over," Lexa replied. "You're growing. And that's a much healthier way to approach it. You're finding your own path, and that's the best way to move forward."

Alison nodded slowly, the weight in her chest feeling a little lighter. She hadn't expected to find comfort in this conversation, but somehow, Lexa had made her believe there was hope for something more than the person she had been.

"I'll try," Alison said, a quiet resolve settling over her.

"That's all I ask," Lexa affirmed. "And remember, you don't have to do it alone. You have people around you who care and want to see you succeed."

After that, Alison left her appointment slightly refreshed and hopeful. Maybe, just maybe she could build something new from her ashes.

A few days later, Alison was wandering the house looking for Jason when she stumbled into the small workshop in their garage. The dimly lit room was cluttered with tools and boxes, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the wall where several photographs were neatly pinned. She recognized them instantly—pictures of Aria she had taken years ago but never developed.

"I didn't know you found these," Alison said, stepping closer as Jason arranged the last few.

Jason turned and grinned. "I did. It was awkward at first, though—Aria found them too."

Alison's cheeks burned. "Oh, no. Please tell me she didn't think you took them!"

"She totally did!" Jason laughed. "I don't even know if she believed me when I said they weren't mine."

Alison couldn't help but laugh too, though her embarrassment lingered. "I was so obvious back then…"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Care to share why you were sneaking around with a camera?"

Alison hesitated, memories flooding back of her pre-Emily days when Aria's quirky charm had captivated her. Finally, she admitted, "I thought Aria was cute."

Jason gaped at her in mock surprise. "Oh my God, you totally had a crush on her!"

"I did, okay?" Alison confessed, rolling her eyes. "But not anymore. Now she's just a good friend."

Jason smirked knowingly. "Right, because your heart is 100% reserved for Emily Fields."

"Jason!" Alison swatted him lightly on the arm, though she couldn't hide her small smile.

"Relax, I'm just teasing," Jason chuckled, then gestured at the photos. "But seriously, Ali, these are good. They've got a really artsy vibe. You've got an eye for this stuff."

Alison tilted her head, studying the photographs with a fresh perspective. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Why don't you take up photography as a hobby?" Jason suggested. "It could be a good outlet for you."

Alison considered the idea, her therapist's advice echoing in her mind. "My therapist did say I should explore hobbies I enjoy…"

Jason brightened. "Perfect! I think Hollis has some photography courses. You should check them out."

The next day, Alison found herself standing in the admissions office at Hollis, signing up for an introductory photography class. For the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of excitement—not just for the class, but for the possibility of finding a new part of herself.

Alison entered the photography classroom with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. The space smelled faintly of chemicals, and black-and-white prints lined the walls, each telling its own story. As she glanced around, she caught sight of a familiar face sitting near the window, adjusting a camera.

"Aria?" Alison called out, surprised.

Aria looked up, equally taken aback. "Alison? What are you doing here?"

"I signed up for this class," Alison replied, settling into a seat beside her. "You?"

"I've been coming for a while," Aria said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Photography helps me process things. It's like storytelling, but through images."

"That makes sense," Alison admitted. "I've been trying to find something… I don't know, something to focus on. Maybe this is it."

The instructor began the lesson, but Alison found herself distracted, glancing at Aria as she expertly adjusted her camera settings and framed shots. During a break, Aria leaned over.

"You're not bad at this," Aria observed, pointing at the photo Alison had just captured.

"Thanks," Alison replied. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Aria chuckled. "I've got to ask—what's with the sudden interest in photography? Trying to reinvent yourself?"

Alison hesitated, then nodded. "Something like that. I need to figure out who I am without all the drama and lies."

"I get it," Aria said, her tone softening. After a beat, she added, "Speaking of figuring things out… have you talked to Emily about everything?"

Alison froze. She should've seen this coming—Aria was one of Emily's best friends. Of course, she'd ask about her.

"Emily said she's not ready to talk, and I'm respecting that," Alison replied, keeping her tone even.

Aria nodded, then hesitated before blurting, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What do you feel for her?" Aria asked gently. "I'm not trying to push, but… I think Emily still has feelings for you."

Alison's stomach tightened. "What has she told you?"

"Honestly? Not much," Aria admitted. "I asked her after you came back, but she didn't have an answer. She's always been private about her feelings for you. We only found out when Wilden… dragged her out of the closet."

"What?" Alison's voice sharpened.

Aria winced. "She didn't tell you, did she?"

"Between me coming back and getting arrested, no," Alison said dryly.

Aria sighed, her voice softening. "Wilden forced her out by showing us a letter she wrote to you—years ago. He used it to try and pin your murder on her. That was before we knew you were alive."

Alison's chest constricted. "Emily wrote me a letter?"

"Yeah. She left it in a copy of Great Expectations in the library. I guess you disappeared before you found it."

Alison staggered slightly, gripping the desk for balance. That quote. That kiss.

"Ali? Are you okay?" Aria asked.

"Do you know why she used Great Expectations?" Alison murmured.

"No. Why?"

Alison's lips quirked faintly, the memory bittersweet. "I quoted it to her before she kissed me. In the library."

"Oh." Aria blinked, then tilted her head. "I didn't know she kissed you."

"We kissed… a few times," Alison confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "I was such a jerk about it. I didn't want to admit how I felt."

Aria studied her carefully. "How do you feel, Ali?"

"I have feelings for her," Alison admitted quietly. "I've always had. I was just too scared to show it."

Aria let out a long breath. "Well, now you know. She's always loved you too. But she's going to need you to be different this time—no more games."

"No more games," Alison promised, her voice firm.

A silence hung between them, then Aria smiled faintly. "Do you think I'll ever find love like that?"

Alison reached over, squeezing her hand. "I'm sure you will, Aria. Ezra never deserved you."

Aria's smile widened, and they shared a quiet moment before turning their attention back to the class. But Alison's mind was already spinning with a single thought: I need to find that letter.

After her photography class, Alison said goodbye to Aria and made her way to Rosewood High. Although the school had been closed by the time she arrived, Alison decided to sneak in anyway. She had to find Emily's letter.

Thankfully, she still had some of her old abilities in her and sneaking into Rosewood High wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. Mostly, she just had to look out for security wandering the place, but she was fairly sure that no one would bother her at the library.

When she arrived there, Alison was overcome with a flashback of the day Emily had kissed her in that very spot.

"You should let me braid your hair some time."

"That's why I love you. You're big on happy endings."

"I loved her against reason, against promise, against hope, against happiness… Against all discouragement that could be. Did you get to that part yet?"

Alison recalled how sweet their kiss was and how it had startled her. Back then, she was used to manipulation, basically exchanging physical affection in order to get something from the other person—either an advantage or something she could feel superior for.

That was how she got involved with Ian, Ezra, Wilden, and Cyrus. With Ian, she basically knew what he was up to in the N.A.T. club and wanted to use his tapes for her own personal gain to maybe expose A. At the time, she had no idea what those tapes really meant. Plus, it felt good to be desired by an older guy who was already dating an older woman (Melissa).

With Ezra, Alison basically wanted a repeat of that feeling. She knew he was an older guy whom she could manipulate and use that to boost her own self-esteem. But she had never had feelings for him and regrets, to this day, ever getting involved with Ezra because she would've sparred Aria otherwise.

With Wilden, Alison had no idea how dangerous he was until CeCe had to pull him away from her when he obviously had drugged her up with the intention of abusing her. That was actually the first time Alison realized that dealing with older men didn't come with prestige only—sometimes it came with blood and crimes as well.

(Later on, she'd find out that men like them were predatory and that she had been the victim, not the huntress.)

Finally, Cyrus was the last string of older men she had tried to manipulate. It ended badly. The scar on her thigh was nothing compared to the scars on her mind. It was one thing to try to manipulate older men in the relatively safe Rosewood; it was another to try the same thing when you were a runaway girl living in the streets of New York.

When Emily had asked her about it, Alison didn't have the courage to talk about what really happened between her and Cyrus. First, because she knew Emily would've wanted to confront him somehow and Alison wanted to protect her. Secondly, she didn't want Emily to bear that burden.

Those experiences made her connect negatively with her sexuality. Alison had never felt attracted—physically and emotionally—to anyone else other than Emily. The brunette was the only one who made her feel safe in that sense because she knew and trusted that Emily would never hurt her. And she would never hurt Emily.

Shaking her head, Alison stepped deeper into the library, her eyes scanning the rows of Great Expectations copies. The soft rustle of pages turning in the distance and the faint smell of aged paper surrounded her, grounding her in the moment. She spotted it quickly—the copy she'd read to Emily that day, the memory as vivid as if it had just happened.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for it. It felt heavier than she remembered, almost as if it carried the weight of what she was about to uncover. She flipped it open, and a folded piece of blue paper slipped free, fluttering to the floor.

Alison froze, staring at it. Her breath caught in her throat. She crouched down slowly, picking it up with careful fingers. The texture of the paper felt delicate, almost sacred. It was Emily's letter.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she unfolded it, the words she hadn't known existed now right in front of her.

august 29, 2009

ali -

You may not like to hear what I have to say, but I need to get something off my chest. You're not afraid of hurting me, so I wonder why I'm so afraid of hurting you. I am, but that's not enough of a reason not to tell you how I feel. So here goes...

Sometimes I feel so close to you, and then something changes, a look in your eyes, and I feel so stupid. It's like you can read every thought in my head, and you find it all so hilarious. Like after we kissed, and I thought it might happen again, and you just laughed in my face. But it's not hilarious to me. Maybe you think a kiss is just a kiss, and that I'm just practice. But the way you act, it feels more like target practice.

I don't know how you can go from kissing me one minute to hating me the next, except that I'm starting to catch on. I'm starting to understand what it's like to love you in one minute, and hate you in the next. I'm not your thing to be used, at least not like this.

I really want to work things through, but I can't keep going if you're just gonna use my feelings for you. I want honesty, Ali. I want your love. I want everything that I dream of.

The library was dimly lit, the soft hum of the overhead lights blending with the sound of rain hitting the windows. Alison sat alone at a table near the back, her coat and bag beside her. The blue letter trembled in her hands as she read through it for the fifth time, tears silently streaming down her face. The weight of Emily's words—so full of love and vulnerability—pressed against her chest like a heavy stone.

Her rejection of Emily in the past felt unbearable now. She had been cruel, selfish, and too afraid to admit her own feelings. But no more. She folded the letter carefully, tucked it into her bag, and left the library.

By the time Alison reached Emily's house, the rain had intensified. Her umbrella had been rendered useless, and her clothes clung to her, soaked through. Standing on the porch, she hesitated for a moment before knocking.

Pam Fields opened the door, her brow furrowing when she saw Alison standing there in the downpour. "Alison? What's going on? You're soaking wet."

"I need to talk to Emily," Alison said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Pam turned back toward the stairs, and Alison's eyes followed her gaze. Emily appeared at the top, her steps faltering when she saw Alison. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting second, Emily looked like she might run down to her. But then her expression shifted, hardening as she clung to the banister.

"Mom, don't let her in," Emily said, her voice shaking slightly but firm.

Pam looked between the two girls, hesitating before stepping back and holding the door partially closed. "Maybe now isn't the best time, Alison."

Alison nodded, accepting it. She wasn't here to force anything. "I understand," she said softly. But she kept her gaze fixed on Emily. "I just wanted to say something."

Emily crossed her arms but didn't turn away. Her jaw clenched as if bracing herself. "What is it?" she asked, her voice colder than she meant it to be.

"I found the letter," Alison said, her voice breaking slightly. "The one you left in Great Expectations."

At this, Emily's composure faltered. She gripped the banister tighter, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but she couldn't.

"I'm sorry I never got it," Alison continued. "I didn't know. If I had—maybe things would've been different." Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. "I'm not asking you to forgive me right now. I just need you to know that I've changed. And I'm going to work on proving it to you. No more games, no more running."

Emily's throat worked as she swallowed hard. Her heart ached hearing Alison's words, and part of her wanted to believe her. But the scars Alison had left behind were still too raw.

"I just want you to know I'm here," Alison added, her voice steady despite the storm raging around her. "Whenever you're ready."

Pam gently closed the door, leaving Alison standing in the rain. Alison stood there for a moment, breathing deeply as the rain washed over her. She turned and walked away, determined to earn Emily's trust again, no matter how long it took.

Inside, Emily stood frozen at the top of the stairs, her arms hugging herself tightly. A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, until she was crying silently. She leaned her forehead against the banister, her heart warring between anger, fear, and the faintest flicker of hope.

Where do you think Emison is going next? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.