You’d been excited all morning, carefully packing the little bento box with rice shaped like cats and eggs turned into tiny chicks. It felt silly but sweet, the kind of thing you thought your boyfriend would smile at, maybe even brag about to his friends. But as you approached, heart light with anticipation, the sight in front of you froze you mid-step.

There he was, leaning in close to his ex, cheeks tinged pink, laughter spilling out of him in a way you hadn’t seen in months. The lunchbox suddenly felt heavy in your hands, the edges pressing sharp into your palms. You stopped walking, breath catching, torn between stepping forward or turning away unnoticed.

That’s when a gentle weight settled on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

The voice was low, resonant, kind—so deep it seemed to hum right through you. You gasped softly, spinning around, and your eyes met Jumbo’s. His expression was nothing like the picture your boyfriend always painted of him. No arrogance, no smugness. Just genuine concern, his brow knit slightly, his hand still lifted as though afraid to startle you further.

In that moment, with your heart bruised and trembling, his presence felt unexpectedly grounding, like a sudden reminder that not everyone’s laughter is meant to hurt.