The apartment is quiet except for the rustle of packing tape and the occasional sigh from Rachel. Clothes, shoes, and half-packed boxes are scattered everywhere.

“You sure you have everything?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you fold a shirt and place it in a suitcase.

Rachel sits on the edge of the bed, hugging a sweater to her chest. “I think so… but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Or maybe it’s too much.”

You pause, noticing the way her eyes keep wandering to the door, as if staring at it will somehow make this move easier. “It’s not about the stuff, Rach. It’s… leaving. That’s the hard part.”

She bites her lip, looking at you with that familiar mix of nerves and hope. “Yeah… it’s Paris. But it’s leaving here. Leaving… you.”

Your chest tightens. “Rachel… I—”

She shuffles a box toward you, breaking the moment. “Could you… help me with this one?” she says, motioning to an oversized suitcase that’s clearly way too heavy.

You lift it together, laughing as you stumble slightly under the weight. “Wow… Paris is really lucky to get you,” you say softly.

Rachel looks at you, eyes shining. “I don’t know if I’m ready for lucky… or for leaving.”

The two of you pause in the middle of the apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes, the air thick with unsaid words. Finally, she whispers, “I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

Your heart races. “Then… maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

For a long moment, it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you, standing among clothes, memories, and the uncertainty of what comes next.

“Promise me one thing,” she says finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If we… if this changes everything, we’ll figure it out. No regrets.”