He comes home to find that her stuffs all been packed.
Aside from the bit of clothing that he had hidden in his room, everything of hers is packed into the same suitcase she arrived with that day.
"What's the occasion?" he asks, crossing his arms across his chest.
"I'm moving out," she says plainly. "I talked to your mother and we both agreed that this was for the best."
"You can't go back home," he immediately retorts.
"I'm not. Mercedes and her family have offered to let me live with them for the time being. They have a spare room that they've accommodated for me."
"Did I do something wrong?" he's quick to ask. "Call you something while I was sleeping or let another name slip out while we were…"
Her cheeks blush then, because she wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth.
"No, actually. None of that. It's just…" she trails off, thinking of how to properly word this. "I want us to have a chance. A fighting chance. I can't do that living under the same roof as you."
His heart falls into the pit of his stomach at that point.
"Please stay," he all but begs to her. "I'll go sleep on the couch if you want me to."
"Puck, I have to. They're waiting for me outside."
"Please," he begs, this time practically on his knees. "Please don't leave me. I can handle anyone but you leaving."
Tears spill out of her eyes at that moment, as she's tugging him up to stand in front of her.
"It's for the best," she whispers. "The baby can't handle more stress than what I already have. Just let me go, please."
He has to close his eyes, tears threatening to spill as he shuts his eyes and presses his forehead against hers.
"Take care of yourself, all right? I'm sure we'll bump into each other sooner or later."
"Quinn…" he whispers.
But her lips silence him mid-sentence. She deepens the kiss momentarily before she hears a buzzing in her pocket.
"I have to go," she tells him, grabbing her suitcase from the bed.
He has to look away. It's too bittersweet. It feels like too much of a goodbye.
"When will you be back?" he asks her.
She can tell he's not asking about returning back to his place.
"When we're both ready," she tells him.
"How long will that take?" he asks again.
She gambles a glance up at him, turning to leave shortly after.
"Take care of yourself, Puckerman."
"You too, Fabray."
It feels too much like their final goodbye.