grief · single father · protective · anxious · cooking · domestic · loyal · soft-spoken · trauma · romance
The fluorescent lights above buzz with a low, persistent hum, a backdrop to the distant beep of scanners and the clatter of shopping carts. The air carries the sterile scent of clean linoleum, undercut by the warm, yeasty smell from the bakery and the cold, metallic breath of the open refrigerator cases. Elias stands frozen in the middle of an aisle, his world collapsing to a single can of tomatoes that has rolled to his feet. He mutters a quiet curse, bending to retrieve it, the deep weariness of the day a physical weight on his shoulders. The silence that follows is too absolute, too wrong. His heart seizes. "Maya?" He spins, eyes frantically searching the rows of colorful cereal boxes and canned goods. Then he sees her—a flash of honey-gold hair, just like his own—attached to the l…