The morning light filtered through the curtains, golden and cheerful, but it only served to mock Amara's mood. She sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, glaring at her suitcase.
"I can't believe this," Amara muttered.
Elara, packing her own suitcase with quiet efficiency, sighed. "We've been over this. It's not forever, Amara. It's just a few weeks in Paris to shoot the movie."
"That's practically a lifetime!" Amara flopped back dramatically onto the bed, arms spread like she'd been shot.
Elara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being abandoned," Amara corrected. "Left to wallow in the cold, cruel corporate world while you gallivant off to the city of love with Marisol."
Elara zipped her suitcase shut and turned to face Amara. "Marisol is my agent. She's going because it's her job."
