Jai watched Shao move steadily through the aisle, his arms quickly grabbing cans, packets, boxes—shoving them into the basket without hesitation. Focused, detached, like he was just trying to get it over with.
Like Jai wasn't even there.
That thought made something tighten in Jai's chest.
He furrowed his brow and, without thinking, reached for a crinkled bag of chips. He made sure to toss it loudly into the cart, the rustle echoing in the quiet, dusty store.
Shao finally looked up.
Just for a second.
He didn't say anything—just reached out and picked three more bags of the same flavor and tossed them in beside it, as if matching Jai's taste. Without hesitation.
Jai froze.
His fingers curled against his sleeves as he stared at Shao.
He cared.
That simple act said so much. Shao cared. He noticed. He was listening.
Then why?
Why reject him?
Why push him away if he wanted him?
