My fingers tighten around the phone 125

Aria’s POV
“Yes, absolutely,” the woman said with a light laugh. I looked up, really studying her for the first time – her silver-streaked
dark hair pulled back in an elegant knot, kind eyes crinkled at the corners, and an expensive but understated cashmere
sweater that spoke of quiet wealth. Despite her friendly expression, I could sense the sharp intelligence flickering behind
her eyes.
She settled herself on a nearby crate and handed me a water bottle. “This should help a bit.”
I checked that the seal was intact before opening it and taking several sips. Even now, I couldn’t shake that vigilant need.
To my surprise, the cool liquid did ease my dizziness and nausea. “Thank you. I’m feeling better now, so I’ll go pay for the
damaged items.”
I shifted my position, preparing to stand, but the woman waved dismissively. “No need. I’ve already taken care of it, and
your groceries too. The clerk should be bagging everything up right now.”
“No, I can’t accept that,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks as I twisted my hands together. “It’s too much money. Let me at
least pay for the jam now. I could—I could write down your address and mail you the rest when my paycheck comes in
next week.” The desperation in my voice was embarrassing, but I couldn’t stand being indebted to a stranger.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up, and she made a dismissive sound. “Absolutely not.” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with
determination. “First of all, making you pay for that overpriced imported jam is highway robbery. They build these
accidents into their budget—trust me.” She tapped her manicured finger against the bench between us. “Second, I really
uderstand where you are—young mother, tired eyes, counting pennies while the world judges every move you make. One of my best friends went through this before.” Her voice softened, a glimpse of old pain flickering across her face.
“And those vultures with their whispered comments?” She glanced over her shoulder at the women still hovering nearby.
“They’ve been circling since you walked in. So really,” her smile returned, bright and genuine, “this is a win for me, a win
for you, and a lovely little loss for judgmental busy-bodies.”
She extended her hand with an elegant flourish. “I’m Vicky, by the way.”
The warmth and conviction in her voice left me speechless, mouth slightly open, unable to form a coherent response.
“I’m Lucas!” my son piped up enthusiastically. I stroked his hair, pulling him closer to my side.
“Thank you for your kindness. I’m Aria.”
“Aria?” Vicky asked, her brow furrowing in a way that seemed oddly familiar. “What a beautiful name. If you don’t mind
my asking, how far along are you?”
Her gaze dropped to my abdomen. I gave an uncomfortable smile—I hadn’t really discussed this with anyone yet—but
there was something encouraging in her warm gaze that made me open up. “Um, ten weeks.”
“Mom says I’m getting TWO sisters!” Lucas announced proudly, puffing out his little chest. “I’m the man of the house.”
Vicky’s eyes widened slightly, but her expression revealed nothing else. “That’s wonderful. I bet you’re a great helper to
your mom, little Lucas.”
“Ethan says so too!” Lucas bounced on his toes, eyes shining with excitement.
Vicky smiled. “And who’s Ethan? A friend of yours?”
“Mom’s friend. He plays with us sometimes. Ethan is SO cool—he helps me build models and makes pancakes. When
mom was sick, he let me help make soup,” Lucas raved about Ethan, and I felt something tighten in my chest. Guilt
washed over me as tears pricked behind my eyes. I blinked them back, glancing around the store. No one was watching
us now, but the tension remained. I didn’t want to admit it, but I missed Ethan.
“Ethan sounds like a good friend.” Vicky turned toward me. “Could I call someone to pick you up? Perhaps their father?”
“I don’t have a dad, and my sisters don’t either,” Lucas announced, puffing up his small chest and lifting his chin proudly.
“I’ll take care of them. Ethan said so.” His little hands curled into determined fists at his sides.
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I caught Vicky’s eye and gave her an apologetic half-smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ll be fine. The
dizziness is already fading, and—” I nodded toward where a gangly teenager was arranging my bags in a cart, “—it looks
like they’ve finished with my groceries.”
Vicky didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she studied me with those perceptive eyes. “If you’re steady enough on your
feet,” she finally said, “would you consider joining me for dinner? My treat, of course.”
“Oh! No,” I blurted, waving my hands in front of me. “That’s incredibly kind, but I couldn’t possibly impose.” I pointed at
the loaded shopping cart, as if the sight of my modest groceries could somehow strengthen my argument. “I should just
get these home before the ice cream melts.”
Vicky’s confident demeanor suddenly cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath. “Please,” she said, her shoulders
dropping slightly. “My son was supposed to meet me today, but he called with some emergency or other.” She sighed,
the corners of her mouth turning downward in a way that transformed her elegant features into something almost
childlike. “I absolutely detest eating alone. The food sits there, getting colder by the minute, tasting of nothing but empty
chairs and silence.”
Before I could respond, Lucas tugged urgently at my sleeve, his eyes widening into those impossible emerald pools that
could melt the iciest resolve. “Can we go, Mom? Pleeeaase?” He clutched his belly dramatically, hunching over slightly.
“My tummy’s making noise like old truck when it wouldn’t start! Vrrrr-GRRRR-vrrrr!” He mimicked the sound with
surprising accuracy, earning a delighted laugh from Vicky.
The thought of dragging my exhausted body home, unloading groceries, and then summoning the energy to cook
suddenly seemed insurmountable. I pictured my empty kitchen table – just Lucas and me, as always. Something in Vicky’s words about cold, lonely food resonated deeper than I wanted to admit.
“Okay,” I said softly, surprising myself. “Where did you have in mind?”