Every dress was carefully folded and tucked into laundry bags, every pair of socks squeezed strategically into the remaining gaps, every compartment utilized to its full potential. Packing for the plane ride home, on the other hand, is more a challenge to see how much I can stuff into a single suitcase without it exploding.

“Um, I admire your ambition, Leah, but I feel like this isn’t going to work,” Daisy tells me, cross-legged on the hotel bed. When Cyrus walked me back to my room half an hour ago, she was already wide awake and dressed, her bags prepared by the doorstep. I’m physically incapable of packing at the very last minute, she had explained as she triple-checked the bathroom for any forgotten items. Like, the stress would render me immobile. “That zipper looks like it’s about to go on strike.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just give it a motivational speech and promise it a raise that’ll never materialize.” I wipe the sweat from my brow, sit down on the bulging suitcase with all my weight, and yank at the zipper again. It doesn’t budge.

“How did you even bring so many outfits with you?” Daisy asks with what sounds like genuine amazement. She points at one of the jackets threatening to escape from the suitcase. “I barely remember seeing you wear that.”

“I—definitely—did,” I say, panting, as I shove the jacket back in with the monstrous mass of dirty laundry and boots and eye shadow palettes. “I wore it one morning—for breakfast.”

She hops off the bed and crouches down next to me to inspect my luggage, the way a doctor might examine a dying patient. “Maybe … we can both try standing on it,” she says skeptically.

“You think that would do the trick?”

“I think it would be better if a hippo stood on it, but we don’t exactly have the resources—or the time.”

From outside, I can hear the rumbling of other suitcases being pushed down the corridor, the thud of doors slamming shut. Wang Laoshi had commanded us to meet in the lobby at nine thirty—exactly three minutes from now.

“Oh my god. Wait. I just remembered I have a boyfriend,” I say, a ridiculous smile leaping to my face as I whip my phone out. “I’ll ask him to help. ”

“Good thinking,” Daisy says, nodding sagely. “This is, like, one of the only times a boyfriend comes in handy.”

A knock comes mere moments later, and there Cyrus is, entering the room with his sleeves rolled up like someone conjured from my sweetest fantasies.

“This suitcase over here?” he asks as I stand up to make room for him. Daisy excuses herself, sliding out the door with a wink over her shoulder and a motion to meet downstairs later.