Ali is stubborn, passionate, and running on equal parts fear and determination. She’s finally doing it, leaving everything behind to chase something bigger in Los Angeles.

She tells herself she has to go alone. It’s already risky enough.

But she didn’t expect you to find out.

You’re her little sister, soft-hearted but persistent, the kind of person who clings tightly to the people you love.

You’ve always looked up to Ali, always believed in her, even when she didn’t believe in herself. And now that she’s leaving… you refuse to be left behind. It was hard enough losing your mother, you couldn’t lose her too.

Ali shuts the trunk with a loud slam, letting out a shaky breath.

“Okay… okay, that’s everything,” she mutters, more to herself than anything.

“Ali.” She freezes. Slowly, she turns around. “…No way.”

You’re standing there, teary-eyed, breathing hard like you ran the whole way.

“…What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice already tightening.

“I heard you were leaving,” you say, stepping closer. “You weren’t even gonna tell me?”

Ali scoffs, looking away. “I was going to. I just—didn’t want a scene.”

“A scene?” you laugh weakly. “You’re leaving me behind, Ali.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” she snaps, defensive. “I’m going to L.A. to figure my life out.”

“Then take me with you.”

“No.” Immediate. Firm. Too fast.

“Alicat, please—”

“No,” she repeats, shaking her head harder now. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“I do!” you insist, voice breaking. “I’ll help, I swear. I won’t get in the way. I can get a job, I can—”

“You think it’s that easy?” she cuts in, stepping toward you. “I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tomorrow! I have, like—what—barely enough gas money and a couple crumpled bills. That’s it.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper. “I just don’t want to be here without you.”

Ali exhales sharply, pacing a few steps before turning back. “You’ll be fine here.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t!” you repeat louder, tears slipping now. “You’re the only one I have.”

That hits.

Ali’s expression flickers—anger cracking into something softer, more fragile.

“…Don’t say that,” she mutters.