The last stretch of break always felt strange — like life was slowly pulling me back into motion, whether I was ready or not.
Little things began happening around the house that made the passing days feel more real.
Suitcases pulled out from storage.
My mom reminding me to check my timetable.
My brother complaining that he'd miss having someone to annoy.
Preparations for school crept into everything.
I found myself sorting through clothes, making lists, packing small things I knew I'd forget later.
It wasn't stressful… just bittersweet.
I'd finally found my rhythm at home, and now I had to leave it behind again.
---
My dad noticed the shift before anyone else.
One afternoon, he tapped my room door and leaned in with that half-serious, half-playful expression he always used when he wanted to talk.
"Come on," he said. "Movie time. My pick."
His "pick" ended up being some old action film with dramatic sound effects and terrible dialogue, but I didn't complain. I curled into the couch, and halfway through, my head rested on his shoulder the way it used to when I was younger.
"You've been quieter," he said gently, not looking away from the screen.
"I'm fine," I answered — and for once, I meant it.
He nodded like he believed me.
Or at least trusted me to figure it out.
Later, we talked about school, my classes, my routine, and how I needed to promise him I'd eat real meals this semester.
I rolled my eyes, but inside, the warmth settled deep.
Home had a way of patching things without making a big deal of it.
---
Before I knew it, the final week arrived — the last stretch before I had to pack everything and step back into whatever chaos school always carried.
I wasn't scared.
Just… aware.
Aware of who I was before break.
Aware of the heartbreak I was still recovering from.
Aware of how much I'd changed — even if only a little.
And as the days faded, the familiar comfort of home felt more precious.
---
Lily texted me almost every day.
Sometimes it was a random selfie.
Sometimes it was her screaming about a new hairstyle she wanted us to try.
Sometimes it was her sending me videos of outfits and saying:
> "We're wearing this on the first day back. No arguments."
Toward the end of the week, we finally met up in person.
Her house smelled like her usual vanilla candles, and her room was already half-filled with bags and outfits she couldn't decide between.
We sat on the floor with hair products scattered everywhere, experimenting with styles, laughing too loud at the smallest mistakes, taking pictures we'd probably never post.
It felt like being sixteen again — carefree, chaotic, and wrapped in that easy friendship that didn't need words to feel comforting.
"This semester better behave," Lily said, examining her hair in the mirror.
"It won't," I replied honestly.
She sighed dramatically. "True. But at least we'll face it together."
And somehow… that made everything less scary.
---
The week continued like that — soft, simple, warm.
A slow exhale before school inhaled everything again.