The suitcase lay open on the bed like a mouth waiting to swallow a life whole.
Evara folded her clothes with mechanical precision—black jeans, leather jacket, boots polished like armor. The late evening light slipped through the curtains, painting her sharp profile in gold and shadow.
Behind her, Sia sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a sweater she'd stolen years ago and never returned.
"You're really going back," Sia said softly.
Evara didn't look up. "It's just a town, Sia. Not a battlefield."
"Funny. Because you're packing like you're going to war."
Evara paused for half a second. Just half. "I like being prepared."
Sia rolled her eyes but her lips trembled. She stood up and began shoving random things into the suitcase.
"Why are you packing three notebooks? Planning to write your dramatic villain monologue in advance?"
Evara smirked faintly. "In case I get bored."
"You don't get bored. You plot."
Evara shot her a look. "Stop watching crime documentaries."
Sia ignored her and held up an old photograph that had slipped from between pages of a book. Two teenage girls on a rooftop, wind in their hair, cheap soda cans in their hands, laughing like the world couldn't touch them.
"You remember this night?" Sia asked.
Evara's expression softened despite herself. "You cried because your crush didn't text back."
"He left me on read for six hours!" Sia defended dramatically. "That's emotional warfare."
"You wrote him a three-page message."
"And you edited it!"
"I corrected your grammar."
Sia's laugh cracked into something fragile. She placed the photo carefully in Evara's jacket pocket.
"You're going to forget to eat," Sia muttered. "And you'll pretend you're fine. And you won't call."
"I'll call," Evara said automatically.
"You hate calling."
"I'll text."
"You hate texting."
Evara finally looked at her—really looked. Sia's eyes were glossy, but she was still trying to smile like this was temporary. Like Evara wasn't carrying something heavy and unspoken inside her.
"I won't be gone forever," Evara said quietly.
Sia stepped closer. "You've never gone back there since you left. You don't even say its name." Her voice dropped. "Whatever you're going for… it's not just memories."
Evara's jaw tightened. For a moment, something dark flickered behind her eyes—old wounds stitched with silence.
"It's unfinished," she said simply.
Sia swallowed. She didn't understand. But she knew better than to push when Evara's voice turned to stone.
Instead, she grabbed a pair of mismatched socks from the drawer and tossed them into the suitcase.
"For balance," Sia declared.
"What balance?"
"Emotional balance. If your life becomes dramatic and tragic, at least your socks will be chaotic."
Evara huffed a quiet laugh—the rare kind that escaped before she could stop it.
"Don't get sentimental," Evara warned.
"Too late." Sia wrapped her arms around her from behind. "Who's going to glare at people for me? Who's going to scare away creepy guys? Who's going to pretend they don't care but secretly pay my rent when I overspend?"
Evara gently peeled her arms away but didn't step back.
"You're stronger than you think," she said.
"And you're more broken than you admit," Sia replied softly.
Silence filled the room. Thick. Honest.
Sia straightened up and forced brightness into her tone. "Fine. Go be mysterious. Go brood dramatically in your gloomy hometown. But if you come back with a tragic love story, I want full details."
Evara zipped the suitcase shut.
"No love stories," she said, her voice cold as winter. "Just closure."
Sia watched her carefully. "That's what scares me."
Evara picked up the suitcase. Come on now drop me off at the airport I don't want my flight flying without me .
At airport
The airport drop-off lane was chaos — honking cars, rushing people, trolley wheels screeching like dramatic background music.
And right in the middle of it…
Sia was hugging Evara like airport security might confiscate her if she let go.
"I can't breathe," Evara said flatly.
"Good," Sia mumbled into her shoulder. "If you can't breathe, you can't leave."
Evara slowly peeled her off. "That is not how lungs work."
Sia wiped her eyes aggressively. "Whatever. Same emotional concept."
Evara adjusted the strap of her bag. Calm. Composed. Like she was leaving for a weekend trip — not walking back into a past she never talked about.
Sia sniffed. Then suddenly grabbed Evara's face.
"Listen carefully."
Evara blinked. "Why do I feel like you're about to give me instructions like I'm a confused tourist?"
"Because you are emotionally a confused tourist," Sia said seriously. "Rule one — eat food."
"I eat."
"You drink coffee and call it survival."
"It works."
"Not legally, it doesn't."
Evara sighed. "Anything else, mother?"
"Yes. Sleep properly. Don't stare dramatically out of windows for hours."
"…That is a normal thinking posture."
"No. That is a tragic movie posture."
Sia grabbed her suitcase handle and shook it lightly. "And don't get into fights."
Evara raised an eyebrow. "I don't get into fights."
"You attract them."
"They approach me with poor decisions."
"That's still fighting!"
Evara smirked faintly. "I'll try to disappoint fewer people."
Sia groaned. "You see?! This is what I'll miss — your emotionally unavailable humor."
They stood there a moment… the noise of the airport buzzing around them like life refusing to pause.
Then Sia suddenly opened Evara's handbag.
Evara frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Emergency insert."
Sia shoved something inside and zipped it shut proudly.
Evara opened it again and stared.
"…Instant noodles?"
"Airport food is expensive. Revenge is stressful. Noodles are loyal."
Evara looked at her slowly. "You packed me survival carbs."
"I packed you emotional support carbs."
Evara closed the bag carefully… like it was something fragile.
Then Sia pulled out a folded paper.
"And this."
Evara took it. "What is it?"
"Open later."
"That means it's embarrassing."
"It means it's meaningful."
"That's worse."
Sia grinned. "Correct."
A boarding announcement echoed overhead.
Both of them froze.
The moment had arrived… quietly… without permission.
Sia's smile weakened. "Oh… that's… that's you."
Evara nodded once.
Neither moved.
Then suddenly Sia grabbed her again — tighter this time.
"You better come back," she whispered. "Not mysterious. Not colder. Not… distant. Just… you."
Evara's arms slowly wrapped around her.
"I'll try," she said softly.
Sia pulled back, eyes watery, nose red… then suddenly narrowed her gaze suspiciously.
"And if you meet some dark, brooding, attractive stranger—"
"I won't."
"—YOU CALL ME IMMEDIATELY."
Evara almost laughed. "That is your biggest concern?"
"Yes. Because you attract emotionally complicated people like free Wi-Fi attracts strangers."
"That metaphor was terrible."
"You understood it."
"…Unfortunately."
Another announcement.
Final boarding.
Silence stretched.
Sia poked her arm. "Go. Before I create a public scene."
"You already are a public scene."
"TRUE. BUT I CAN ESCALATE."
Evara picked up her suitcase.
She walked a few steps… then stopped… turned back… and flicked Sia's forehead lightly.
"For balance," she said.
Sia gasped dramatically. "ASSAULT. AT AN AIRPORT. SECURITY—"
Her voice cracked into a laugh… then a sob she tried to swallow.
Evara looked at her one last time.
Sia gave a shaky thumbs up.
"Go ruin lives… respectfully."
Evara nodded once.
Then she turned and walked toward the gate.
Sia watched until she disappeared into the crowd.
Then whispered softly—
"Come back to me the same, Evara."
Evara was out of sight . Her hometown waited for her.
And it had no idea she was coming ...