Can I be this happy? – Liana
Liana
Elias and I had very different shopping styles.
I made lists. Compared prices. Checked nutritional labels.
He… did not.
He pushed the cart with one hand, other hand in his pocket, like he was doing recon.
Every aisle, he slipped in something that wasn’t on my list: protein bars, beef jerky, cold brew, electrolytes.
“You prepping for the apocalypse?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “You get mean when you’re low on iron.”
I rolled my eyes.
But when we passed the chocolate display, he paused.
Scanned the shelf.
Picked the exact brand I loved, 72% cacao with sea salt, and dropped it in.
No comment. No teasing.
Just… remembered.
He asked if we needed more soy sauce.
I blinked. “You don’t even cook with soy sauce.”
He shrugged. “No, but you do. And I like the way your fried rice tastes.”
I paused. Then smiled. “That’s dangerously sweet of you.”
He tossed it into the cart. “I’m dangerously well-trained.”
I laughed.
He smiled like that was all he needed to hear.
It wasn’t deep. Wasn’t dramatic.
Just small, ordinary things, like we were already sharing a life without needing to name it.
At checkout, I realized he’d somehow carried all the heavy stuff—rice, water, eggs—without me noticing.
He paid. I loaded the bags.
Teamwork. Like we’d been doing this forever.
Elias
She tucked the receipt into her pocket like it was a puzzle piece she didn’t want to lose.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye as we crossed the lot.
She looked happy. Light.
I didn’t want to jinx it.
Still, I glanced over my shoulder.
Habit.
A silver car idled near the edge of the lot. Nothing unusual. But something about it set my jaw tight.
Liana popped the trunk and reached for the bag of greens.
I took it from her.
“I’ve got it.”
She grinned. “You don’t let me carry anything.”
“Because I like watching you walk,” I said. “carefreely.”
She laughed and leaned up to kiss my jaw.
That simple. That easy.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling.
Something doesn’t feel right about that car.
???
From across the parking lot, a silver sedan idled quietly behind a row of cars.
Two men sat inside, watching.
The younger one tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. The older one, wiry with a scar across his cheek, squinted toward the sliding glass doors of the store.
Then he went still.
“Wait. Hold up. That guy.”
The younger one looked. “What?”
“Isn’t that… Cole Monroe?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then: “No way. Cole disappeared.”
“No, man. That’s him. Same walk. Same face. You don’t forget someone who burned your crew to the ground.”
They both watched as Elias stepped into view, laughing, carrying groceries.
A girl followed him, grabbing the keys and swatting his arm playfully.
They looked… normal. Domestic. Stupidly happy.
The man with the scar lit a cigarette. Eyes narrowed.
“Who’s the girl with him?”
The younger one shrugged.
The scarred man blew out a slow breath. “I’m gonna find out.”
Liana
The ride home was quiet, but not tense.
Elias drove with one hand on the wheel, one hand resting near my knee.
Every now and then, his thumb traced circles into my jeans.
I leaned my head against the window, letting the sunlight warm my face.
It didn’t feel like pretend.Didn’t feel borrowed.
It felt like life. Ours.
But some small part of me still whispered—
Can I be this happy?
I looked over at him.
He glanced back. Smiled.
And the whisper in my chest went quiet.
