I never imagined a shopping trip could feel this... calming. Maybe it wasn't the act of shopping itself, but the man walking a few steps behind me, occasionally nodding in approval, sometimes teasing with just his eyes.

Lorenzo.

I still wasn't sure how to define what we were to each other—roommates, temporary companions, accidental friends? But today, for a few hours, I forgot all those labels. And maybe that's what made it beautiful.

We walked into the first store, the kind I usually avoided—expensive, elegant, a little too quiet. I hesitated at the entrance, instinctively folding my arms. My feet felt heavy. I wasn't sure I belonged here.

"You're taking me to a luxury mall?" I had asked, only half teasing.

He didn't miss a beat. "You didn't think I'd take you to a discount store, did you?"

A small laugh escaped me. "No, but I would've dressed better."

"You look just fine," he replied, his voice quiet but firm, like a truth he wouldn't argue.

My heart skipped—not for what he said, but for how easily he said it.

I wandered to a rack of soft-colored dresses, running my fingers along the fabric like it was some kind of memory I used to have. I hadn't bought new clothes in months. Back home, after the accident, even getting out of bed had felt like a battle. Shopping? That had felt like a sin.

Now, here I was.

I picked a few things and moved to the trial room. He waited outside on a bench, scrolling through his phone but never completely distracted.

When I came out in the yellow dress, I felt... exposed. Vulnerable. Like I was letting the sun touch skin that had been cold too long.

"Wow," he said. Just one word—but it felt like it landed somewhere deeper.

"You're just saying that."

"No, really." He stood, his eyes meeting mine. "You look like... spring."

Spring. That word clung to me like perfume. Gentle. Bright. A reminder that even after harsh winters, something soft could grow again.

I didn't know what to do with that. So I escaped back behind the curtain and whispered, "That's not fair."

"What isn't?" he asked.

"Saying things like that," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. "You make it hard to pretend I don't feel anything."

There was silence after that. Heavy. Charged. I waited for him to say something sarcastic, to break the tension like he always did. But he didn't.

Instead, he just let the silence sit between us like a fragile truth.

We visited a few more stores, and I let myself enjoy it. I let myself laugh when he wrinkled his nose at a neon jacket I dared him to try. I let myself say yes when he picked out a black evening dress and raised an eyebrow until I gave in. I let myself feel... normal.

After spending a couple of hours picking out regular clothes—eight dresses, four pairs of jeans, five tops, and a cute jumpsuit—I was already starting to feel a little overwhelmed. My arms ached from the number of bags I was carrying, and my wallet hadn't moved an inch. Because Lorenzo wasn't letting it.

Just when I thought we were done, he tugged my wrist gently and led me into a high-end boutique. The air inside smelled like roses and rich people. The clothes were neatly hung on golden racks, and there was a calm, almost intimidating silence to the place.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, glancing around nervously at the price tags I didn't dare touch.

He didn't even look at me as he answered, "You'll need some formal and fancy clothes too. Occasions happen."

Occasions? What occasions?

Back home, it was always Kiara Bhabhi or Alana who insisted on shopping for me before events. They'd handle everything, from makeup to heels to accessories. I never had to think twice. But now... here I was, walking beside a man who dragged me from shop to shop, his fingers lightly guiding my back every time I hesitated.

I couldn't tell if I was grateful, amused, or... just too flustered to process it all.

Eventually, I gave in. We began the ritual again—choosing gowns, trying on dresses, stepping out into the soft lighting of the trial room.

One of the dresses was a simple, elegant white piece. Flowy, ankle-length, with minimal embroidery on the neckline. It made me feel like I belonged in a painting.

I stepped out shyly, brushing the dress down with my hands. "Too plain?" I asked.

Lorenzo looked up from his phone, and something in his eyes shifted. He stood up slowly, walked over, and without a word, reached forward and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, his voice low and steady.

I froze.

Not because I didn't believe him.

But because, for a split second, I did.

Then he turned to the saleswoman and said with a casual authority, "We're taking this one."

I escaped back into the trial room, trying to slow my heartbeat. I wasn't used to compliments like that—so direct, so... sincere.

In a rebellious moment, just to break the growing intensity, I changed into the brightest thing I could find: a shocking orange pantsuit with gold buttons. The moment I stepped out and struck a ridiculous pose, I heard him burst into laughter.

"Now that's bold," he said, still laughing as he ran a hand through his hair. "You look like a traffic cone. A very expensive one."

I giggled along, relieved to see the teasing return.

After a few more trials (and laughs), I returned to find him at the counter. Again. Paying.

"Lorenzo," I said, frowning and walking to him quickly, "please stop buying me so many things."

He turned to me with an easy smile, full of mischief and care. "It's no problem, angel," he said with a wink.

My heart did that annoying flutter again. I folded my arms and looked away, pretending to be irritated, but I was smiling like an idiot.

Then—because apparently the day wasn't over yet—he guided me to a makeup store.

I blinked. "Excuse me? Makeup? How do you even know about this stuff?"

He shrugged like it was no big deal and flagged down a salesgirl. "Bring her everything a girl might need," he ordered.

I covered my mouth to hide a laugh. The poor salesgirl looked completely confused.

I stepped in before she ran off to fetch an entire salon.

"Don't worry," I told her, grinning. "Just the basics—compact, lipstick, mascara, maybe a neutral eyeshadow palette."

She nodded, visibly relieved, and walked off.

I turned back to Lorenzo, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

He leaned casually against a shelf, smirking. "But charming, right?"

I hated that he was right. And that my heart was agreeing.

It was close to 3 p.m. when we finally stepped out of the last store, weighed down with shopping bags and a strange warmth blooming in my chest. I was exhausted, but the kind of happy-tired you get after a day full of surprises.

Lorenzo didn't let me rest for long. "Come on," he said, gently taking the bags from my hands. "You need food before you fall over."

He took me to a quiet, cozy restaurant tucked into a corner of the street—earth-toned interiors, soft instrumental music playing in the background. We settled at a table by the window, the late afternoon light washing over us in a golden hue.

After placing our order—just something light to keep us going—I took a sip of water, finally beginning to relax.

That's when he pulled out a small black velvet box and placed it in front of me.

I blinked, then frowned. "What's this?"

"Open it," he said, that signature mysterious glint dancing in his eyes.

I hesitated, then slowly lifted the lid. My breath caught.

Inside was a pair of delicate, silver drop earrings—simple yet stunning, the kind that whispered elegance. I had seen them earlier in one of the stores. Just for a moment. They had caught my eye immediately, but the price tag had scared me away.

"Lorenzo..." I gasped. "These are the earrings I—how...?"

"You were eyeing them earlier," he said nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. "So I bought them when you went to the bathroom."

I stared at him, heart thudding. "You didn't have to—no, I can't accept this. You've already bought me so many things today. Please... at least let me pay for this one."

He looked at me, serious now, his voice gentler than ever. "I know you hate it when someone spends money on you. But, Adhira... let me do this for you. I want to. Not because I have to. Because I genuinely want to."

His words left me speechless.

After a moment, I reached out, my fingers brushing the velvet as I carefully lifted the earrings from the box. "Thank you," I whispered, barely audible. "For everything."

He gave me a soft smile in return, and just then, our food arrived—saving us both from the thick quiet that had settled between us. We dove into the meal, laughter and light conversation bubbling back up as the food wrapped us in its familiar comfort. Each bite felt like the perfect end to a perfect afternoon.

Once we stepped out of the restaurant, he stretched a little and turned to me. "So," he asked, "what's next? Do you want to head home or...?"

Just then, my eyes caught something across the street—a tiny, whimsical-looking shop with colorful signs and fairy lights hanging from the awning.

A smile tugged at my lips. "Would you... do what I want to do now?"

Lorenzo looked intrigued, raising an eyebrow. "After you, ma'am," he said with exaggerated formality, even lifting his hand like he was my butler.

I giggled and pulled him along.

The shop was as cute on the inside as it looked on the outside—shelves filled with paint bottles, tiny ceramic mugs, photo frames, keychains, and trinkets ready to be personalized. There were workstations where people sat, painting or crafting little pieces with full concentration and joy.

It was a DIY craft store.

"You seriously want to paint?" he asked, amused but not judging.

I turned to him, beaming. "Yes. I want to make something."

He smiled, shook his head playfully, and followed me inside without another word.

We picked a small table near the corner, surrounded by shelves stacked with mini canvases, mugs, keychains, and all kinds of paint supplies. A cheerful girl handed us aprons and set down a tray of paints and brushes.

"I feel like I'm in kindergarten again," Lorenzo muttered, tying his apron with a dramatic sigh.

I giggled. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll manage not to eat the paint."

He gave me a mock glare. "No promises."

I picked a plain ceramic mug and sat down, my fingers tracing the smooth surface. Lorenzo, being Lorenzo, chose the tiniest canvas possible and stared at it like it was about to explode.

"What are you painting?" I asked.

"Abstract chaos," he said, picking up a paintbrush and dipping it in blue. "Very deep, very artistic. Will probably be worth millions one day."

I rolled my eyes and dipped my brush into a soft peachy-pink. "Right. Well, I'll keep mine simple."

As we painted, our conversation flowed easily—teasing, laughter, quiet pauses that didn't feel awkward. I stole a glance at him now and then. He looked so serious, frowning at his "abstract chaos," paint streaked on the tip of his nose.

"You have paint on your face," I said.

He looked up. "Where?"

"Here," I pointed, but before I could help him clean it, he dipped his brush in green and swiped a quick stroke across my cheek.

I gasped. "Lorenzo!"

He smirked. "Payback for dragging me in here."

"Oh, you're going to regret that."

And with that, I dipped my finger in blue and marked a dot on his forehead like it was Holi.

The battle was on.

Within minutes, we were both laughing uncontrollably—his nose was a rainbow, my arms had streaks of purple and yellow, and we had definitely gotten disapproving looks from a nearby mom helping her kid paint a dinosaur.

Eventually, we called a truce. My mug was almost done—simple white with a tiny galaxy hand-painted on one side and the words "to the one who brought back my stars" written inside the rim in thin, careful strokes.

I glanced at Lorenzo, making sure he was distracted before I wrapped it up with the shop's tissue paper and ribbon, ready to gift it to him later.

He caught me just as I tucked it into the box.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said quickly, trying to hide it behind my back.

He narrowed his eyes. "Did you make me something?"

"Maybe," I said with a smirk. "But it's a surprise."

Lorenzo leaned forward, his voice low. "You're full of surprises, Adhira."

His words made my chest tighten just a little—not in a bad way. In the kind of way that made my heart thrum in quiet, unfamiliar rhythms.

We cleaned up, returned the aprons, and stepped out into the soft, dusky evening. The city lights had started to flicker on, the breeze carried hints of jasmine and roasted coffee from nearby cafés.

"I had fun," I said softly, hugging the wrapped gift to my chest.

He looked at me and smiled—one of those quiet, rare smiles that made me feel seen. "Me too."

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There goes chapter 11

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