The suitcase lay open on the bed like it was waiting for answers I did not have.
I folded another dress and set it inside. The fabric was soft under my fingers, but my hands still felt restless. Julian stood by the window with his own bag half-packed, shirts stacked neat and precise. He had not looked at me for the last ten minutes.
"You are packing like we are going to a funeral," I said.
He turned his head just enough to see me. "I am packing for seven days on an island with no exit. There is a difference."
"You make it sound like a prison sentence."
"It might feel like a prison if we are not careful."
I dropped the dress into the suitcase harder than I needed to. "Careful about what? The blackmail you refuse to explain, or the way you keep treating me like I'm made of glass?"
His
