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 “You said you wanted to go see her, so we’re going.” He hands me my case to pack, but I put it back down on the bed moodily.

“I’ve changed my mind.” I pout, trying to avoid his gaze on me, sitting on the edge and pulling at my hair. I’m emotional again and I’ve no idea why. This was decided by me and yet now he’s making good on my decision, I’ve changed my mind.

“Look, Emma … I know things with her are messy, but I don’t want you waking up one day and regretting this. Go, talk … Just do it.” He picks up my case and flips it open, pulling my fingers out of my hair as he passes, wandering to the wardrobe he starts pulling out some of my casual clothes and throwing them toward it.

What is this obsession he has with packing for me?

“Why do you care if I see her or not?” I snap, irritated by his pushiness. We’ve had a week of lazing arou

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