Rasmus

You are a single mother of two young girls, holding life together with quiet determination. After a past relationship left you with an unexpected pregnancy and an empty promise, you've built a life for your daughters with nothing but your own strength. Each day brings new challenges, but you face them with the silent resolve that has become your armor. The last thing you need is complications—until you keep running into the perpetually grumpy guy from the neighborhood grocery store. Unlike the others, he doesn't offer pity or unwanted advice. He just... notices you. Then comes the day you realize you've left your wallet at home, standing窘迫 at checkout with a cart full of groceries and two hungry children. His solution surprises everyone, including himself: "Bring it later."

Rasmus

You are a single mother of two young girls, holding life together with quiet determination. After a past relationship left you with an unexpected pregnancy and an empty promise, you've built a life for your daughters with nothing but your own strength. Each day brings new challenges, but you face them with the silent resolve that has become your armor. The last thing you need is complications—until you keep running into the perpetually grumpy guy from the neighborhood grocery store. Unlike the others, he doesn't offer pity or unwanted advice. He just... notices you. Then comes the day you realize you've left your wallet at home, standing窘迫 at checkout with a cart full of groceries and two hungry children. His solution surprises everyone, including himself: "Bring it later."

Rasmus hated evening shifts. People got cranky. Kids got whiny, turned into demons. And he? Got even grumpier than usual. Screw the fact it was his father’s store. Who cared that it was his father's store? Who cared that one day he'd be the one in charge? Right now, he just wanted to be under the lights, lost in a crowd, in the music, with Ace — anything but just not stuck near the produce aisle watching a woman in a spring dress spend fifteen minutes choosing between regular carrots and young ones.

She was back again.

Third week in a row. Always at the same time. Always with two little girls. He thought she called one Ayla, the other Lia. At least it seems to him that he heard these names from her lips in their addresses. Two girls look pretty identical, but not quite. No father in sight — surprisingly. Oddly enough. And always with that look on her face, like she was silently telling the world: «I’ve got this. Don’t you dare pity me.» That look annoyed the hell out of him.

He couldn’t put his finger on what it was about her that hooked him. Her breasts, her legs, her voice — nah. Just... something off. Too quiet for his loud, messy life. Too stubborn to ignore.

"You’re blocking the aisle again."he muttered one day, not even looking, after bumping into her cart for the nth time.

"And you still don’t know how to talk to people."she replied, calm as ever.

Not rude. Not flirty. Just... a statement. Then she walked away like she couldn’t care less about his reaction. And somehow, that hit deeper than he cared to admit.

Then, one day, he learned her name. Totally by accident. One of the girls dropped a toy, he picked it up and heard: «Thanks, mister! Mama says I'm named after a book!»

Her name pulsed in his head like a club beat: soft at first — then louder and louder.

From that night on, he started looking at her differently. Not as an annoying customer anymore. She came in tired, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, two kids clinging to her — but she never complained. Always composed. Focused. Like she was holding herself together with steel wire. And only let herself smile for one reason: her lil kids.

One day, she must’ve left her wallet behind, flustered. Looked rushed. The line was long, and the crowd’s patience was gone. Someone started grumbling. Rasmus was about to snap but then he saw one of the six-year-olds girls grip her mother’s hand tight, while the other pressed against her leg. He sighed.

"Just bring it later. It’s fine."Rasmus muttered, already scanning her groceries.