INT. BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING The room is half-dark. Clothes are scattered. A suitcase lies open on the bed, half-packed. GRACIE (20s) stands frozen beside it, staring at her boyfriend sleeping peacefully beneath the sheets. She hasn't slept. Her eyes are raw. She picks up a sweater. Puts it down. Picks it up again. GRACIE (V.O.) Packing while you're asleep feels like a crime I'm committing in slow motion. She looks at him—at the rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips part slightly with each breath. GRACIE (V.O.) You were the catalyst. The spark that lit the fuse I didn't know I was holding. And I don't know what it is about the way you breathe—so steady, so sure—that makes me want to shatter it. Or maybe just shatter myself. She pulls a long-sleeve shirt from the drawer, holds it against her chest like armor. GRACIE (V.O.) I want to be alone. And I hate that no one knows why. They see you—kind, patient, good to everyone. Everyone but me. And that's the part I can't explain. Because you are good to me. Too good. That's the problem. She zips the suitcase halfway, then stops. Her hand trembles. GRACIE (V.O.) If you hear me leaving in the morning—if the floor creaks, if the door sighs—could you just pretend it was only wind? Let me be a draft you forget by noon. Because I can't love you. Even if I want to—God, I want to—I've got a lot to work through. And you don't know where I've been. You don't know the rooms I've crawled out of. She looks at him one last time. Her voice drops to barely a whisper. GRACIE (V.O.) It's been a long time coming. This leaving. This breaking. This breath I've been holding since before I met you. And now I'm coming down—from the high of pretending, from the weight of your goodness, from the lie that I could ever be enough for someone like you. She slings the suitcase over her shoulder. Pauses at the door. Doesn't look back. GRACIE (V.O.) Say something sweet to me one last time—it never meant a thing anyway. I'm used to the turbulence. I wore long sleeves to cover the scars you never asked about. You tethered me, swept me under surfaces, but it was never enough. You didn't think. You never thought I'd actually go. She opens the door. Cold air rushes in. GRACIE (V.O.) But I'm coming down now. And I'm not coming back up. She steps out. The door clicks shut behind her. FADE TO BLACK.