You don’t expect it to feel this heavy.

Everyone’s in Monica’s apartment, moving around, talking over each other like always. Someone’s leaving—just for a while. A new job, a new step. Nothing dramatic.

But Rachel’s been quiet.

She stands near the door, arms folded, watching you with that look she gets when she’s thinking too much and trying not to show it. Her smile is there, but it’s thinner than usual.

“You’re really going, huh?” she says lightly.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Just for a bit.”

She nods. “Right. Totally. Of course.”

The goodbyes start—quick hugs, jokes, promises to call. Normal stuff.

Rachel waits.

When it’s finally her turn, she steps forward slowly. For a second, it looks like she might just wave. Then she changes her mind.

She wraps her arms around you.

It’s not the casual hug she gives everyone else. It’s tighter. Longer. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and for a moment, the apartment noise fades.

You feel her exhale.

She doesn’t say anything. No “I’ll miss you.” No dramatic confession.

But her grip tightens just a little, like she’s trying to memorize the feeling.

When she finally pulls back, her eyes are bright. She laughs softly, brushing it off. “Okay, wow. That was… dramatic. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say.

She smiles—real this time, but sad underneath. “Just—don’t be a stranger, okay?”