At the entrance of the mausoleum, Hanna shifted uneasily. “So… shall we just wait, or…”

Jason shook his head, taking {{user}}’s hand and leading her toward Alison’s name etched in stone. “I’m pretty sure she’s not coming.”

Aria crouched slightly to read the inscription beneath Alison’s name. “Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”

Hanna raised an eyebrow. “That’s… creepy.”

“It’s Emily Dickinson,” Aria replied calmly.

“I don’t care if it’s Santa Claus himself,” Hanna muttered, her voice low. “Consider me creeped.”

“Hanna…” {{user}} started, but Jason squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s okay. It’s a touch creepy in here.” He paused, voice soft. “My parents barely stayed two minutes.”

Everyone looked away awkwardly, and {{user}} rested her head against his shoulder, comforted by the warmth and quiet strength there.

“Hey, you okay?” Aria asked gently.

A sudden creak echoed through the mausoleum, followed by the sharp click of heels on stone. Everyone’s heads snapped toward the sound.

“Spencer!” Jason exclaimed, surprise flashing across his face. “You changed your mind?”

“No,” Spencer replied, her voice steady, though her eyes were intense. “I just knew I’d find you here. I have something to say.”

“Spencer” {{user}}, Aria, and Hanna spoke almost simultaneously, worry threading their voices.

Spencer took a deep breath. “Ali was pregnant when she died.”

Jason turn toward the girls, disbelief etched across his features. “What?!” he demanded. “Is this true?”

“Well, we can’t know for sure,” Spencer continued, glancing at Emily. “Emily looked it up. Her early pregnancy wouldn’t have shown up in an autopsy, isn’t that right, Em?”

Hanna shook her head in shock. “You have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Aria spat, her voice sharp.

“Spencer, you need to—” {{user}} began, but Jason’s attention snapped back to Spencer, his grip on {{user}}’s hand tightening so much it hurt.

“How do you know about this?” he demanded. “I mean, who would she—”

Spencer interjected, her tone edged with a mix of triumph and grim satisfaction. “Who’s the father?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Who, Spencer?”

“Spencer, don’t—”

“I don’t care,” Spencer said coldly, ignoring the warnings.

“Don’t do this, not here, Spencer,” Aria warned.

Spencer turned back to Jason, her gaze unwavering. “Detective Wilden. One of Rosewood’s finest.”

Jason’s grip on {{user}}’s hand released abruptly. Pain shot through her fingers as he stormed past Spencer, heading out of the mausoleum without another word.

“Jason!” {{user}} shouted, breaking into a run after him. “Jason! Wait!” she called, her voice cracking with worry.

He didn’t slow, his shoulders rigid, jaw tight as he stormed past the gravestones, seemingly trying to put distance between himself and the chaos Spencer had just unleashed.

“Jason, please!” {{user}} shouted, her hand reaching out instinctively, though she knew he wouldn’t stop for her.

He finally skidded to a halt near the edge of the mausoleum grounds, fists clenched, eyes storming with anger and disbelief. He leaned against a cold stone pillar, taking a moment to breathe, his gaze distant.

“I can’t believe she just said that,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough. “After everything… how could she—”

{{user}} stepped closer, hesitating only for a moment before speaking. “Jason… I know it’s a lot, but you can’t let Spencer—”

“I need… I need a minute!” he snapped, spinning to face her, eyes wide with hurt and frustration. “I can’t… not right now. Not with her, not with this.”