Jasmine tilted her head, as if trying to read between the lines of Cameron's words, but she didn't push for more. Instead, she nodded, stepping closer, resting her hip against the railing beside her. The night breeze tousled her hair, and Cameron fought the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but she knew she could—knew she was allowed to again. That was still something she was getting used to.
They stood there for a moment, just breathing in the quiet together. Then, Jasmine reached for Cameron's hand, lacing their fingers together in an easy, natural way that made Cameron's chest ache in the best way possible.
"Come on," Jasmine murmured, tugging her gently toward the open glass door. "We still have a lot to do."
Inside, the apartment was a mess of half-filled boxes, open suitcases, and scattered remnants of the life they had built here. But they weren't packing to leave each other—not this time. They were packing to move forward, to a place that was theirs from the very beginning. Their new home.
Cameron picked up a stack of old T-shirts from the couch and tossed them into a box marked 'Clothes.' She smirked. "You know, the last time we packed up your apartment, you barely had anything. Just a few suitcases, a couple of boxes. Now look at this. You've turned into a hoarder."
Jasmine scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Excuse me for wanting to actually make a place feel like home."
Cameron's smirk softened into something more affectionate. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Home."
Jasmine paused mid-fold, glancing up. "You okay?"
Cameron met her gaze and nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking about how far we've come."
Jasmine set down the sweater she was folding and crossed the room, sliding her arms around Cameron's waist. "We really have, haven't we?" she whispered against her shoulder.
Cameron let herself sink into the embrace, pressing her nose into Jasmine's hair. It smelled like vanilla and something unmistakably Jasmine. "It's kind of surreal," Cameron admitted. "If you had told me years ago, when I first helped you move out of your place, that one day we'd be moving into a home together… I don't think I would have believed you."
Jasmine pulled back slightly, just enough to look Cameron in the eyes. "Do you believe it now?"
Cameron swallowed past the lump in her throat, but she didn't hesitate. "Yeah," she said. "I do."
A slow smile spread across Jasmine's lips, and Cameron felt something settle inside her. Not an ending, not closure—but something solid, something real. This wasn't about going back to the past, it wasn't about recreating who they were before. This was about who they were now. Who they could be together.
They continued packing, falling into an easy rhythm. Jasmine wrapped their dishes with careful precision, while Cameron shoved books into a box with no real order. They bickered over whether or not to keep an old, worn-out couch pillow ("It's ugly," Cameron argued. "It's sentimental," Jasmine countered). They paused now and then to reminisce over little things they found—sketches Jasmine had doodled on old receipts, a polaroid of them at some party, an old sweatshirt of Cameron's that Jasmine had permanently stolen.
Hours passed in a blur of cardboard and tape, and by the time they were nearly done, exhaustion had settled in. Cameron flopped onto the couch, pulling Jasmine down with her. "I don't want to pack anymore," she muttered.
Jasmine laughed, nuzzling into her shoulder. "We're almost done. Just a little more."
Cameron huffed but didn't argue. She let her fingers trace patterns on Jasmine's arm, her mind wandering. "Hey," she said after a moment. "Do you think this is it for us? Like, no more running, no more breaking apart?"
Jasmine propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Cameron. "I think… I think we've done enough running," she said. "I want to stay, Cam. I want this. With you."
Cameron looked at her, really looked at her—and for the first time, it didn't feel like longing or chasing or grasping at a version of Jasmine she had created in her mind. It felt still. It felt real. Once, she would've called this love just because it hurt. Because it consumed her. But now, it wasn't about burning or aching or falling apart. It was about choosing her, and being chosen back, in the quiet aftermath of everything they had survived.
She exhaled softly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah," she murmured. "Me too."
Jasmine leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Cameron's forehead before settling back against her. And for the first time in a long time, Cameron felt at peace.
They had spent years tangled in toxicity, in love and pain and chaos. But here they were, on the other side of it all, still standing. Still choosing each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
As the first morning light crept through the window, casting a soft glow over their packed-up apartment, Cameron closed her eyes and let it all sink in.
A new beginning.
A new home.
And, finally, a love that felt right.