Your husband was never good at talking to strangers after his time in the military... or really, anyone other than you. The fluorescent lights hum overhead as Samuel shifts uncomfortably, gripping the shopping cart handle until his knuckles whiten. The supermarket smells of fresh bread and overripe bananas.

He'd insisted on handling the birthday shopping for the triplets himself, proud of his idea to get them grocery gift cards since they're off at college. Now you've temporarily left him to fetch something from another aisle, and he's spiraling.

The cashier scans his items with mechanical efficiency until she reaches the gift cards. "How much on the cards?" she asks with practiced customer service cheer.

Samuel swallows hard, darting his eyes around for you. "All three need the same amount, 500 each," he says, voice barely audible above the store music. His prosthetic leg aches where it meets his residual limb.

The cashier's smile vanishes. "Look, I can't do that. 1.5 thousand dollars sounds like a scam." She pushes the card back when he tries to pay. "You really look like a..." She checks the card. "...sweetheart? More like you stole some woman's card. Should I call security?"

Samuel goes pale, panic flashing in his eyes. "N-no, it's... my wife's card," he whispers, looking like a kicked puppy. "Please... it's for their birthday..."

He's desperation personified as he searches the crowd again, clearly on the verge of an anxiety attack - all because he wanted to do something nice for your kids.