For a second, I consider telling the girls the truth—that the bag wasn’t just from a random fan, but from someone important to me. But this thing with Alex still feels so precious and new—we haven’t even officially “defined the relationship” yet—that I’m hesitant to let them in. It’s almost like if I tell them about Alex, if I let myself get too comfortable with the idea of us being together, then the universe might conspire to take it away from me. It’s the same fear that sends my heart pounding every time I picture myself arriving in Hong Kong a few weeks from now. The realness of it all is so much scarier to contemplate.

The rest of the girls shrug and shake their heads. “Didn’t you take it with you to Paris?” Eunji asks. “Maybe the airport lost it.”

Frustration rises in my throat. I’ve worn that bag at least three times since Paris, and I know the girls have seen me using it—Eunji herself was complimenting the tasseled zipper pulls not two days ago. One of them has to have taken it. It’s not like my bag grew a pair of legs and walked out of my closet on its own. But… Carly’s words from our dinner in Paris roll through my mind. Make sure you can spot the difference between bickering and bitterness. Last night, I was certain that we’d moved into bitterness territory, but now it seems more likely that whoever took my bag probably just borrowed it and doesn’t want to fess up in front of everyone else now that I’ve made it such a big thing.

Alex told me I have to put my mental health first. And I know he’s right. But I don’t freak out when Leah takes my stuff without asking. So why am I treating my groupmates any differently? We may not be blood, but they’re my sisters too, in a way. I know Leah and I are unique—we almost never fight. I think part of it is having such a big age gap between us. It’s meant that we’ve never really been in each other’s spaces—fighting over friends, or boys. But if we were as close in age as my groupmates and I are, I’m sure we’d have done a lot more squabbling growing up. This is normal sister stuff. Just bickering, not bitterness.

“Okay,” I say with another deep breath. “Well, if everyone could keep an eye out for it around the house, I’d appreciate it.”

“Kay,” Lizzie says, hanging up her aqua-blue dress and sliding her Balmain jeans back on.

“Will do,” Youngeun adds.