I push our overflowing cart to checkout. Tiny designer clothes, luxury blankets, soft toys, and that high-end stroller Zaire insisted on “matching his style.” The whole thing’s stacked to the top.
The cashier scans each item, beep after beep. My excitement starts to mix with anxiety.
I lean toward Zaire, whispering, “Zaire... this... this is a lot.”
He glances at me, calm, steady. “It’s okay, Ky. Don’t worry about it.”
The final beep sounds. The cashier looks at the total and speaks carefully:
“That’ll be $48,632.27.”
I freeze. My eyes go wide. “What?! Forty-eight thousand...?!”
Zaire stays relaxed, his hand brushing over mine. “Ky, it’s fine. Really. I’ve got it.”
My face goes pale. “You... you’re serious?”
He nods, voice gentle. “Completely. You don’t need to stress about any
