The mood inside Ambrosia's dormitory was heavy—thick with silence and unspoken emotion. It was the kind of quiet that settles only after days of shared tears and sleepless nights, when all that's left is the ache of an inevitable goodbye. The walls, once alive with laughter and midnight chatter, now stood still as if mourning with the girls who had once breathed life into them.
In the corner of the living room sat Rachel's suitcases, three of them, neatly packed and zipped shut. Each bag held more than just clothes and personal items; they carried memories of rehearsals that ran long into the night, of inside jokes whispered during practice breaks, of triumphs and failures endured together under harsh stage lights and softer dorm lights.
