Accidentally become a father Chapter 8: The Purchase That Made It Real

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"Papa, you pick."

"Why ?"

"So the color won’t be too loud."

I surveyed the available options.

Solid gray.

Navy blue.

Brown.

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"Gray," I said.

She stepped closer to check the price tag.

"Is it expensive?"

"It’s still within the painless threshold."

"Does Papa have a lot of money?"

"No."

"Then why are you so calm?"

"Because panicking doesn’t increase your bank balance."

She fell silent for a mont.

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Then said quietly,

"I can use the cheapest one."

I looked down at her.

Her expression was neutral, but entirely too neutral for a nine-year-old.

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"Gray," I repeated. "This one."

I picked up one of the rolls.

Not too thick.

Standard.

Yuna gave a small nod.

As if the decision wasn’t about color, but about sothing much larger.

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As we made our way to the register, she walked a little closer to again.

She didn’t hold my jacket this ti.

But the distance was practically the sa.

The cashier glanced at us.

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Looked at the futon.

Looked at Yuna.

Then went back to the register screen.

Didn’t ask a single thing.

Good.

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After paying, I carried the rolled-up futon under my arm.

Yuna stared at it as if she were looking at sothing official.

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"We really bought it," she said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Does that an I’m really staying?"

I looked at the automatic sliding doors opening in front of us.

The night air greeted us once again.

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"You’ve made it this far," I said.

She walked out first this ti.

Two steps ahead of .

Then stopped.

Turned.

Waited for to catch up.

And for the first ti that night,

she walked without holding onto my jacket.

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