Chapter 22: Luggage and Letting Go

The suitcase sat at the foot of Lena's bed like a question she hadn't answered yet.

It was half open, half packed—just like her heart. Inside were clothes chosen carefully, sketchbooks she couldn't leave behind, and a scarf Emma had placed there the day before. A soft blue one, with faint floral embroidery. "For Paris skies," Emma had said, pretending not to care as she folded it in.

Lena sat beside it now, staring at the folded scarf like it might unfold time itself.

The knock on her apartment door came gently, but deliberately. She knew it was him before she opened it.

Alexander stood in the hallway in his usual black coat, holding a box in one hand and uncertainty in the other. His eyes searched hers for permission before stepping in.

"I brought you something," he said, setting the box on her kitchen counter.

Lena raised an eyebrow. "A parting gift?"

"Something like that."

She opened the box slowly. Inside lay a miniature model—one of their early projects together. The legacy building. But now, someone had added a new structure next to it: a small rooftop garden, and a tiny figure of a woman standing at the edge, sketchbook in hand.

Lena's breath caught.

"I had the studio modify it," Alexander said. "I thought… maybe you'd want a piece of us while you're away."

There were a hundred things she could have said. But all she managed was, "It's beautiful."

He stepped closer. "You are."

The words were soft, without hesitation. And they didn't crash into her—they wrapped around her like that scarf.

"I'm proud of you, Lena," he said, voice quiet. "Not just for the work you've done, but for who you've become. You've built things… not just out of concrete, but out of trust."

Lena looked down. "It's hard to leave when everything I want is starting to take shape here."

"I know." He touched her hand, gentle. "But you won't lose us. Paris is not the end—it's a chapter. Go write it."

Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. "And you? Will you write too?"

He smiled. "Every day."

They didn't say goodbye—not really. They held each other quietly, knowing that real connection doesn't end with distance. It pauses. It stretches. But it waits.

Later, at the airport, Lena turned back just once. Through the glass wall, she saw them—Alexander with his hands in his pockets, and Emma beside him, waving with a grin that masked her sadness.

Lena smiled through her tears and stepped onto the plane.

She wasn't running away.

She was flying toward the next version of herself.