Dear Fin,

    There is no other way to begin this letter than to say I'm sorry. Although I'd be shocked if you could tell the distance of time between when the letters are written, I still genuinely apologize because it has been eight months since I last wrote to you. These last eight months have been full of stress time consuming behavior that I haven't had the energy to write. Writing to you . . . makes me very emotional; I just didn't have it in me to sabotage my life any further. Regardless, I have so much to tell you. Mainly because I have no one else to tell. 

    First of all, my art has been going surprisingly well. Veronica Ashworth has been a brilliant mentor; we've been picking out which pieces to present at the gallery, setting prices (I don't want to make prints unless there is enough interest) and advertising the opening. Art is the best thing in my life at the moment.

    Secondly, Ailsa has been in the hospital. The poor old woman had been very ill for awhile, but she had kept her discomfort a secret. But one day she collapsed while visiting her grandson and she was brought to the hospital . . . Ailsa has stage two lung cancer. Whenever I can, I'm sitting next to her in her hospital bed. The last eight months have been a torrent of testing and examinations and therapy, leaving her exhausted, especially considering her age. Sometimes, I'm alone and sometimes, I'm sitting with one of her many grandchildren.

    And finally, Bea and Claude are officially married. There wedding was a little over three days ago and I'm sure they're happily enjoying their honeymoon at the moment. That's how I've found time to write to you, since I've been on holiday to attend. 

    The ceremony was, in my opinion, so much more beautiful than Jeanine and Michael's. Bea and Claude rented out a small water front cottage, where direct family stayed, and the wedding was held in warm sunshine while the waves gently lapped onto the shore. Afterwards, a small reception was held.

    Originally, Ailsa had agreed to my plus one. She felt absolutely horrible that she couldn't attend due to her illness, she wanted to be let out of treatment so she could, but I insisted that it was alright. And it was, really, since her health was a priority. Regardless, she arranged for one of her granddaughters to come with me, since I had already returned my invitation with a confirmed plus one.

     At first, I thought it would be awkward, but Ailsa's granddaughter turned out to be really cool. Lennon Walker was twenty-four years old, had traveled to seventeen countries, spoke three languages and worked as a substitute teacher in an international school. She had two younger sisters, one younger brother and a twin brother; her boyfriend's name was Matt and he was the son of one of her colleagues, she met him at a work party, he was twenty-two. Her hair was naturally brown, but she dyed it black because she thought it made her look less plain and she had big gray eyes with ivory skin in a tall willowy frame.

    I had a really good time with Lennon, she was witty and smart. My family enjoyed her as well; Jeanine and my mother enjoyed testing her French skills, Claude and Bea were fascinated in hearing about her travels and my father was interested in her job. Lennon was instantly welcomed back to visit the family any time she wanted.

    When we returned back to the city, Lennon gave me her phone number and told me to call her whenever I wanted to get a drink. I finally had a friend my own age (no offense to Ailsa).

     I haven't heard anything that remotely relates to you in any way for . . . months. I'm not sure if I'm happy about that. I imagine that you're off with Ally, making music, doing whatever it's that you do these days. 

    Encounter Number One Hundred and Sixty-Eight. 

    The sun's rays nipped painfully at our skin, the heat consuming us into a bundle of frenzied warmth, no hint of a breeze free us of our enslavement. Regardless of the heat, you and I were attached, enveloping one another in a passionate embrace. Because nothing could remove my attention from the fact that I was leaving for college today and I wouldn't be seeing you for a guarnteed three weeks at least. 

    The summer, unfortunately, had flew by so quickly. At the beginning of it all, it seemed like those three months would never end, but as September drew nearer, I wish for nothing more than more time with you. 

    Our last summer together was over and as my dad and you dropped me off at the train station, I struggled to hold in my tears. It wasn't that I was so clingy to you that it hurt to be away, it was just . . . you're really the only friend I had. There was no guarntee that I'd manage to make another one up in New York City. And with you so many miles away, I'd be very alone. 

    I was also somewhat excited. My dad and I had headed up a few weeks earlier for a couple days to set up my apartment with all my things; I remember how beautiful the city had seemed, this city filled with stars and dreams and adventurers. The prospect of heading to my new home was riveting, but I was scared of being away from you. 

    You wrapped your arms around my shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. "You'll call me when you get there, right?"

    I nodded vigorously. "Of course."

    I seperated from you for a moment to give my dad a hug, murmuring farewell. After that, I gave you one more hug before it was time to leave. In grabbed my carry-on, sharing one last smile at the pair of you, before disappearing to my platform. 

    As I headed onto the train, I headed into a new adventure, a beginning of a new tale. Leaving you, of course, was frightening; be away from my family was unreal, something I hadn't really experienced much of. This was the start of a new ear and although I couldn't predict the outcome, I was excited nonetheless. 

    End of Encounter Number One Hundred and Sixty-Eight.

    I remember the bitter sweet pain of bidding you goodbye that day, it had been one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Darling, you're the knot the that tied me to the planet, you're my hope. And knowing full well that I could lose you was a terrifying prospect, since you're the only good thing in my life, especially at the time. 

    Unfortunately, your knot wasn't strong enough. You see, hope really is like a knot; it holds something -or rather, someone- together, it can be found in many shapes and forms and can be as troublesome as it can be helpful. For me, it seemed, like the knot was becoming undone . . . you're my knot, yet I never saw where you fell apart, about where I didn't tie you strong enough. I don't know if it was my own blunder with it or something else came along and messed with the quality craftmanship. 

    Regardless, that was about the time that I lost you. 

    Nothing about me changed, but you did. Whenever I could, which wasn't often, I would call you or Skype you, but you never accepted my calls or requests. I would email you and write you letters, but you wouldn't respond. The only times you would talk to me were when I would get so worried, I'd take a train back home and barge into your apartment. And, in person, you're still severely distant, just not as bad as you're in our methods of communication; but when you hugged me and kissed me, the world fell away and I was reminded why I loved you. Like the silly foolish girl I was, I assumed that it was the stress from losing Etta so recently, plus school. I imagined as time passed and we adjusted, things would slowly become normal once more. 

    I couldn't have ever imagined what happened next. You're distant not because you're stressed and depressed, you're distant because you're cheating on me. You're distant because you're too much of a cowardice bastard that you couldn't even break up with me before you moved on. You're distant because you realized, abruptly enough to push me out of my world, that you loved Ally Santiago more than you ever loved me. 

    No matter how many letters I write or review the memories in my head, I still can't figure out where I went wrong. So many terrible things happened during our relationship, many more that I haven't even discussed in these letters, but . . . I don't know. I don't know where everything fell apart. And nothing hurts more than that; at least if I knew, I could fix myself, I could change the ugly aspects of myself that made you leave me. It's not like I can ask you, though, and even if I did I doubt would tell me the truth seeing as you lied to me for a very long time. 

    Maybe, knots are meant to break.

    Or maybe just you and I were.

    Or maybe, you grabbed a pair of scissors and tore us apart.

    -Annalise

*

    Hey Reader!

    Chapter's Song: "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver (Birdy cover). This is one of the most beautiful songs in music, in my opinion. The tune is addictingly hypnotic, the message one that can resonate with anyone: a love gone sour. A once beautiful love has shrunken down. That's kind of what Annalise and Fin are about to do, via the encounters.  Also, Birdy's voice . . . damn, that girl can sing. 

    Thanks for reading <3

    Love Your Favorite Liar <3