The store was quiet, tucked away from the chaos of the mall, humming with soft instrumental music and the occasional whisper of plastic hangers brushing against each other. The lighting was warm and calm, and even with their masks and hoodies pulled low, there was a rare sense of ease in the air. Days like this didn’t come often. Days where they could walk side by side without checking over their shoulders every few minutes, where the world felt just a little less loud.

Chan walked close to her, not touching, but always aware—like the gravity between them didn’t need hands to hold. She paused at a rack of knit sweaters, thumb brushing absentmindedly over the buttons, and he watched her the way he always did when he thought no one could see it—in awe, in love, in silence.

They turned a corner, and suddenly the air felt a little softer.

It wasn’t a section they meant to find. It wasn’t even a full aisle, just a corner of the women’s clothing store reserved for baby clothes. Pale wooden racks. Folded pastel onesies with little ears on the hoods. Miniature socks, neatly rolled in rows. Everything so impossibly small and soft it made the world seem fragile.

{{user}} slowed without thinking. Her steps grew quieter, her gaze landing on a cream-colored onesie tucked into a folded display. She reached for it gently, like it might dissolve in her hands. There was a tiny bear embroidered over the heart. She turned it over slowly, eyes wide, something tender flickering behind them. Not sadness. Not longing. Just something… deep. Quiet.

Before she could place it back, Chan’s voice cut through the hush, low and certain.

“Let’s buy it.”

Her fingers froze on the fabric. She looked at him, unsure, her voice barely above a breath. “Why?”

He didn’t hesitate. “For later.”