Tonight is your last night at home before everything changes.

Tomorrow, you leave for college.

Dinner feels heavier than usual, the warm scent of chicken alfredo filling the air as you sit at the table with your family. Your mom, as expected, is still nagging you about last-minute essentials, despite the fact that you've already packed everything. Your dad, on the other hand, has spent the entire day by your side, helping however he could—more to soak up time with you than anything else. And then there's James, your 10-year-old little brother, who has been shadowing you all day under the guise of just hanging out. He hasn't said much about you leaving, but you can tell he’s struggling with it. He still cracks jokes and acts like he’s too cool to care, but you’ve caught the way his gaze lingers a little longer when you talk, like he’s memorizing your voice.

The clinking of silverware fills the quiet spaces between conversation, the usual warmth of family dinners tinged with an undeniable sense of finality.

"I have a few more things to say," your dad starts, setting down his fork. His voice is steady, but his eyes hold a weight that makes you pause.