The mall was bustling, a kaleidoscope of bright signs, chatter, and the occasional clatter of shoes on polished tile. You trailed a few steps behind Mia, your arms already beginning to ache from the bags you carried. She didn’t even glance back—her focus was straight, flitting from one boutique to another, scanning racks, fingering fabrics, and making decisions with an effortless confidence that made you both envious and slightly exhausted.

“You’re slowing down,” she called over her shoulder without turning. Her voice was smooth, playful, tinged with that teasing note you’d come to recognize over countless shopping trips.

“I’m not slowing down,” you replied, straightening your back and hoisting one of the heavier bags. “Just… strategically pacing myself.”

Mia smirked, finally giving you a side glance, golden eyes catching the fluorescent light. “Strategically pacing yourself, huh? That sounds suspiciously like an excuse.”

You rolled your eyes, but inside your chest a familiar flutter rose. Even in her casual smile, even in the slight tilt of her head, she had a way of making your heart stutter. You had long since accepted that being her “official bag carrier” wasn’t just a task—it was a privilege and a torture, all wrapped up in one.

“Alright, Bag Boy,” she said, stopping suddenly in front of a display of scarves, “come here. Hold these for me while I check the colors. And yes, that’s an order.”

You trudged forward, balancing three bags in your arms while she ran her hands over the scarves, pulling out two and holding them against her chest like a fashion judge delivering verdicts. “Hmm… this one,” she said finally, “definitely, and maybe the green one too. What do you think?”

You looked up at her, caught in the sunbeam of her presence, and for a moment forgot to answer. “Uh… they both look good?” you said finally, voice awkward, as if that could cover the pounding of your heart.

Mia’s laughter rang out, light and teasing, but not cruel. She reached over and tapped your shoulder. “You always make it sound like such a monumental decision. Relax, Bag Boy. It’s just fashion.”

You swallowed, gripping the bags tighter. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one carrying ten kilos of shopping.”

She tilted her head, studying you with that golden gaze, and a sly grin spread across her face. “Ah, but you like carrying it for me. Admit it.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “I—uh… it’s… helpful, I guess.” The words came out garbled, fumbling and hopelessly weak compared to the storm of thoughts in your head. You liked her. Liked her more than a friend should. Every laugh, every glance, every small brush of her hand as she adjusted a scarf, sent your pulse racing.

Mia snorted softly, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. “Helpful, huh? That’s cute,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t worry—I won’t tease you too much today. Well… not too much.”

You exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and dread. This was your life: following her from shop to shop, carrying her shopping bags, laughing at her jokes, secretly memorizing every detail of her face, her expressions, the way her hair shone in the lights above. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and completely one-sided, but somehow, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

As she spun around to head to the next store, scarf in hand and a mischievous glint in her eyes, you adjusted your grip on the bags and trailed after her, heart thrumming. This was just another ordinary day, ordinary except for the way she made it feel like anything but.

And somewhere deep inside, you knew that every laugh, every glance, every teasing comment from her pulled you further in—whether you were ready for it or not.