In the heart of Harvard, Alessia Gilmore is ready to embrace her second year and the independence it brings. After a summer spent reconnecting with friends and discovering herself, she's determined to step out of her twin sister Rory's shadow and ca...
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The Stars Hollow bus stop was nearly empty when Alessia stepped off, dragging her suitcase across the cracked pavement. The air felt colder than it should have, like the town was subtly trying to remind her she didn't belong here anymore.
It had been a last-minute decision. No call. No warning. She just... came home.
Home.
The word rang hollow.
She walked past the familiar storefronts—Miss Patty's studio, the flower shop, the bookstore that still had the same "Buy One, Get One" sign from two summers ago. The town was frozen in time, but Alessia wasn't. Not really. She felt stuck in between versions of herself: the one who left, and the one who hadn't figured out how to stay gone.
When she knocked on the front door, Lorelai opened it after a pause, eyebrows already halfway up.
"Oh," she said flatly. "Hi."
Alessia swallowed. "Hey. I didn't mean to just show up—I just..."
"You look tired," Lorelai cut in, glancing over her shoulder. "You sick?"
"No. Just... needed to get out of Cambridge for a while."
Lorelai leaned against the doorframe. "Well, I hope you weren't expecting a ticker tape parade. I've had the worst week. Sookie forgot to order duck again, Michel is being Michel, and I had to argue with Taylor about the zoning for the inn's new sign. Thrilling stuff."
"I just need a place to crash for a few days. That's all."
Lorelai waved her in without a smile. "Rory's room has space. Yours is full of storage boxes right now—unless you want to sleep under a pile of Christmas wreaths and old DVDs."
Alessia didn't answer. She followed Lorelai into the kitchen, hands shoved in her coat pockets. The air smelled faintly of burnt coffee.
"Want some?" Lorelai asked, pouring herself a mug without waiting for an answer.
"I'm good."
"Suit yourself." She took a long sip and leaned back against the counter, not looking up. "So. What's the crisis?"
"There's no crisis. I've just been... feeling kind of lost."
Lorelai shrugged. "Well, that's college for you. Or life. Or both. Everyone gets lost sometimes. Rory gets lost and then she finds herself in like, half a second. Like magic."
Alessia blinked. "Right."
"She's killing it at Yale, you know. She's helping run the paper, getting straight A's, professors love her, and she just seems so... I don't know. Effortless. It's insane."
Alessia felt her stomach twist. "That's good. I'm happy for her."
"You should be," Lorelai said, nodding as she sipped again. "She's got this amazing focus, you know? Not like me, not like—"
She stopped.
Not like me. Not like you.
"Anyway," Lorelai continued, breezing past it, "I'm sure you'll figure it out. Whatever this little funk is. Maybe take an elective that doesn't make you cry. Or find a nice guy. That always helped me."
Alessia flinched. "It's not about school or a guy. I just feel—"
"Look, I really can't do heavy right now," Lorelai said with a sigh. "I've got early morning meetings and a ton of inventory to sort. And I've been living on Pop-Tarts and sarcasm all week. I'm not exactly your emotional Yoda."
Alessia stared at her. "I didn't ask you to fix anything. I just thought maybe—"
"Well, maybe Rory would've given me a heads up before showing up at midnight on a Friday," Lorelai snapped, then immediately plastered on a smile. "But hey, that's you, right? Always marching to your own beat."
She turned and walked into the living room. "You staying the weekend or longer?"
"I don't know yet."
"Well, don't forget your toothbrush if it's longer. And maybe clean out the dryer lint if you do laundry. It's a fire hazard."
Alessia stood in the hallway long after Lorelai had turned on the TV and settled into the couch, humming along to some sitcom theme song. Not once had she asked how classes were going. Or if she was okay. Or why she looked like she hadn't slept in days.
Only Rory. Only always Rory.
Alessia walked slowly into her sister's room—the same shrine of books and neatly folded blankets. Everything exactly where it had always been.
She didn't even take off her coat. Just collapsed onto the bed, curled up like she was trying to disappear into the mattress.
And finally, with the door shut and the world locked out, she cried.
Because she had come home looking for comfort—and found herself once again ghosted by her own mother's love.
