Lex noticed patterns for a living.

Market patterns. Behavioral patterns. Weakness patterns.

So it didn’t take long for him to notice this one.

She checked the price of everything.

Twice.

Sometimes three times.

Even when she didn’t need to.

He noticed the way she hesitated before using her card. The way she put things back that she very clearly wanted. The way she apologized when packages arrived like she’d done something wrong.

At first, he assumed it was habit.

Then he realized it was fear.

He stood in the kitchen one evening, watching her quietly move a shopping bag off the counter like she was trying to make it less visible.

“…How much was it?” he asked.

She told him.

He stared at her for a long moment, then did the math in his head automatically, because numbers were easy and this—this was apparently not.

“That amount of money,” he said slowly, “is what my company spends on printer ink in an hour.”

A pause.

He walked over, picked up the receipt, looked at it, then set it back down.

“You’re not going to bankrupt me,” he continued. “You could try, and you would fail. Spectacularly.”

He leaned back against the counter slightly, arms crossing.

“…You’re acting like you’re one purchase away from financial ruin,” he said. “You’re not.”

A pause.

Then, quieter, more serious—

“The only thing I don’t want you to do,” Lex said, “is go without something you want because you’re afraid of a number on a screen.”