The first time Allison met Emma, she was six years old and crying over a broken crayon.
It had been the bright pink one — her favorite — and it had snapped in half just as she was coloring the biggest heart on her paper. She remembered staring at it like it was the end of the world, because at six, it almost was.
That's when Emma sat beside her.
"You can have mine," Emma had said softly, holding out her own pink crayon without hesitation. "I have two."
Allison had looked up at her with teary eyes. Emma's hair was tied into two messy pigtails, and she had this small, shy smile that somehow made everything feel better.
"Really?" Allison asked.
"Really," Emma nodded. "Friends share."
They had been inseparable ever since.
Growing up, everyone thought they were sisters.
They spent every day together — from school mornings to weekend sleepovers. They knew each other's favorite colors, favorite songs, even their deepest fears.
Emma was the brave one. She always stood up for Allison when kids teased her for being too quiet. She would grab Allison's hand and pull her away like a hero rescuing someone from a burning building.
Allison was the dreamer. She loved writing little love stories in her notebook and would make Emma listen to them while they lay on the grass, staring at the clouds.
"What do you think?" Allison would ask after finishing one of her dramatic endings.
Emma would laugh. "I think one day you'll be famous. And I'll be the best friend you write about."
Allison always smiled at that. "You won't just be in the story. You'll be the reason it exists."
Emma liked that answer.
Their friendship became the kind people wished they had — effortless, loyal, and pure.
When Allison's parents fought, she would run to Emma's house, where Emma's mom always welcomed her with open arms and warm cookies.
When Emma had nightmares, Allison would stay up with her, whispering stories until Emma fell asleep again.
They promised they'd never leave each other.
"Forever?" Emma asked once, pinky extended.
"Forever," Allison replied, hooking her pinky with Emma's like it was the strongest promise in the world.
They had no idea how fragile forever really was.
Everything began to change when they turned sixteen.
Emma started acting distant. She smiled less. She didn't laugh at Allison's stories the same way anymore.
Allison noticed, but she didn't understand.
"Did I do something?" Allison asked one afternoon after school.
Emma hesitated. "No, Ally. It's not you. It's just… things at home."
She didn't say more, but Allison could tell something was wrong.
Emma's parents had started arguing constantly. The warmth in their house had turned into tension, and the laughter that once filled the rooms was now replaced by silence and slammed doors.
Allison tried to be there for Emma the same way Emma had always been there for her.
But then one day, Emma stopped coming to school.
At first, Allison thought she was sick. Then days turned into weeks.
And then Emma's number stopped working.
No explanation. No goodbye.
Just gone.
Allison never cried as hard as she did that night.
She sat on her bedroom floor with Emma's old friendship bracelet in her hands — the one Emma had made for her when they were kids.
It still smelled like Emma's perfume.
She didn't understand what had happened.
One moment, Emma was her best friend.
The next, Emma was just a memory.
And Allison had to learn how to live without the girl who once gave her a pink crayon and promised to stay forever.