One year later, the sun broke through the clouds, spilling soft light across the field of wildflowers.

Ari stood at the edge, her hands tucked into the pockets of her worn denim jacket.

She had been walking these fields for months now, each step a reminder of how far she had come.

It wasn’t easy, this new life she had chosen. It wasn’t easy to let go of the guilt, the fear of disappointing her family, the voice inside her head that still whispered she wasn’t enough.

But with each passing day, those voices had started to fade. In their place, a new voice had emerged; her own.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the land, but the warmth on her face felt like something she had longed for without realizing it.

Peace.

Real, quiet peace.

She had stopped chasing perfection and stopped running from the parts of herself she had always feared.

And for the first time in a long while, Ari felt like she could breathe.

The past year had been a journey; a year of reconciling with the pieces of her life she had tried to bury, her relationship with her family, her own sense of purpose, and the deep-seated feelings of inadequacy she had carried with her since childhood. But even with the weight of it all, she had found a way forward.

Her family was still there, still the same in many ways, but Ari no longer allowed their expectations to dictate her actions. She visited her mother regularly, helped when needed, but she no longer carried the burden of their survival on her shoulders.

Kim and the others had learned to respect her boundaries, though it hadn’t been easy.

Ari had learned to say no, and for once, it felt empowering.

Ari had also found peace with her writing again. It wasn’t the escape it once had been, but a way to express the world that lived inside her.

Her words no longer felt forced or like a means of surviving; they were a part of her, a reflection of who she had become.

Some days, she would sit by the old fig tree in the field, the one that had always felt like a place of solace, and write her thoughts.

She often found herself journaling about the dreams that had started to return; the ones where she had been submerged in suffocating water, suffocating until a gentle hand had pulled her out, breathing life back into her lungs.

That dream, that feeling of peace in the midst of chaos, had become a metaphor for her life now.

She smiled to herself, the corners of her lips curling up naturally, a reflection of the change inside her.

"Come, little lamb," the words whispered in her mind, a phrase she had once heard in that dream.

Ari had come a long way from the young woman who had been trapped in the dark water, struggling to breathe. Now, she was the one holding the light, the light that had been there all along, even when she couldn’t see it.

A soft breeze rustled through the field, carrying with it the scent of the wildflowers and the distant hum of life.

It was gentle, but it was enough. Ari closed her eyes and let the wind brush over her, letting the last remnants of the past melt away.

She had found herself again, and for the first time, she felt like she was truly living.

She looked up at the sky, her heart quiet, her thoughts clear.

"You are not alone."

Those words echoed softly in her mind, the words she would carry with her forever.

A promise.

A truth. The truth that she wasn’t alone in this world or the next. She had once thought that escape; suicide, was the only option. How she had believed the weight of her world was too much to bear, the endless pressure of her family’s demands, her mother’s illness, her father’s absence.

She had been so lost, so sure that peace could only come by leaving this life behind. But now, she understood.

She had come to realize that there is no peace in an escape that severs the connection to this world, no answer in the silence that takes away the voice of love and purpose.

She had discovered, in the deepest corner of her soul, that the true answer had been here all along.

The answer was in the promise that she was never truly alone, even in her darkest moments.

The answer was in the spiritual truth that had pulled her out of the darkness, the same truth that had guided her through her suffering, and that now filled her with a quiet strength.

Ari knew that the place she had dreamed of, the field of endless light, was real. Not just a dream, but a promise, a home that would await her when the time was right.

And the one who would welcome her, this man in white, whose presence was so comforting, so familiar; was the one who would embrace her when she finally arrived, saying,

“Well done, little lamb, my child. My daughter. Welcome home.”

Taking out her pen, she began to write once more, as she had so many times before.

But this time, her words were different. They were born from her heart, a heart now filled with truth and light.

The words flowed freely, a reflection of the inner peace she had finally found; peace not in the world around her, but in the divine truth she carried within.

I will continue using this gift to speak the truth I’ve learned, to give glory to the one who gave me life and keeps me alive.

I will write, for in my writing, I feel His presence, and I know I am not alone.

Until the day He calls me home, I will wait for that moment when I hear His voice say,

'Well done, little lamb, my child. My daughter. Welcome home.'

With that, Ari closed her notebook and stood up, feeling lighter than she had in years.

The sun was setting, casting golden light across the field, and she felt the warmth in her heart as she waited for the day when she would finally be able to rest in the arms of her true home.

Until then, she would live in truth. She would live for the truth that had given her breath when she thought she had none left to give.

The End