The opportunity had presented itself sooner than Lorelai expected.
Val entered the room without a word. His jaw was tight, shoulders stiff — still unsure how to deal with her after her last sharp-tongued remark. He went straight to the wardrobe, pulling out clothes and tossing them onto the foot of the bed in heavy, deliberate piles. Jacket. Shirts. Trousers. He kept adding until his side of the bed was half-covered.
Lorelai sat on the nearby couch by the window, filing her nails with slow, lazy strokes. She watched the city lights glittering far below and did not turn around. She could feel every movement he made — the rustle of fabric, the quiet thud of folded clothes — but she had no desire to speak to him, and he clearly had none to speak to her. That suited her just fine. She hoped the mystery of why he was packing would solve itself without her having to ask.
Val's teeth stayed clenched the entire time. She hadn't even glanced in his direction. Not once.
