Is letting go must be painful?

I rechecked our things in the luggage for the nth time this morning in our living room while waiting for Patricia. Hank introduces her to me. She's a licensed caregiver with a six-year experienced local and international.

I interviewed her via Zoom last night; luckily, she's available for a week, which I need.

I glanced at Paris and mom, sitting on the kitchen stool while eating the breakfast Shiloh had prepared; he prepared a chicken salad for mom, a pizza for Paris, and a clubhouse sandwich.

"How many more times will you check that, Sydney? I'm getting tired of watching you." Paris complained. I stared at her and raised my left eyebrow.

"Then stop staring at me, dumb." I zipped up mom's luggage after confirming that I didn't forget anything. I pulled out Paris' luggage and opened it up. My jaw dropped when I saw the mess she made after folding them. "Seriously, Paris?" she ran to me and snatched her luggage.

"Let it then." she closed it, pulled up the handle, brought it with her t