Signs of Change

Shayla

I feel the familiar hum of anticipation wrapping around me like a comforting shawl as Chris moves through the house, whistling quietly. He's been doing that all day—smiling mischievously, humming tunes I can't quite place, and occasionally shooting me conspiratorial winks when he catches my eye. Something is definitely up, but he's kept his lips sealed about whatever it might be. All I know is that in a few hours, we're supposed to leave for a surprise vacation. And if the sparkle in Chris's eyes is anything to go by, I'm in for something big.

We're standing in the living room, folding clothes and packing them into matching suitcases. Normally, I'd prefer to pack by myself—I have my own system, rolling T-shirts and layering certain items—but this time, Chris insists on helping. He keeps sneaking in jokes or tossing in items he thinks I "definitely need," which currently includes a pair of sparkly sandals I haven't worn out yet.