Nick's POV Bella's backpack felt too light for what I was doing. I zipped it up slowly, feeling the resistance of the fabric like it was the only real thing in a morning that had turned into a legal maze. Inside, I packed things she'd recognize without thinking. The pencil case with the cracked lid. Her sketchbook. Two changes of clothes. Pajamas. Her favorite hoodie. The pair of socks with little stars she insisted were "lucky." None of it was her life. Just a small enough slice so it wouldn't feel like goodbye. I heard footsteps in the living room and Martina's low voice, soft, careful, like she was building a nest around her. "Are you taking your necklace?" Martina asked. "The friendship one?" Bella replied, bright. "Yes!" I paused for half a second, my hand still on the backpack strap. That necklace had become proof of affection and, at the same time, potential ammunition. I hated how everything blurred together like that. Bella appeared at the end of the hallway
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