The gift shop smelled faintly of vanilla-scented candles and new books. Soft instrumental music played in the background while a few shoppers browsed through glittery bags, toy racks, and novelty items. Chris and Patience walked slowly past the shelves, scanning for something that would dazzle a ten-year-old girl.
"How about this?" Chris held up a singing unicorn lamp.
Patience laughed. "That looks like something that would scare her at night."
"True," he admitted, dropping it gently back on the shelf. "She's a little dramatic."
"She's just expressive," Patience said defensively, scanning the next aisle. "What about art kits? She's been drawing rainbows on every wall she can find."
Chris smiled. "Like her big sister—always making something out of nothing."
They walked a little farther until Patience gasped and pointed. "There! Look at that!"
It was a pastel pink gift set—complete with a child-size purse, a flowered journal with a lock, a sparkling pen, and a matching bracelet.
"This is it," Patience said with certainty. "This is exactly the kind of big-girl energy Peace would love."
Chris picked it up, turning it in his hands. "Girly, a little sparkly, but intentional. Just like you."
Patience chuckled. "Don't start."
He raised a brow. "Start what?"
"Flattering me when I'm trying to focus," she replied, half smiling, half serious.
Chris held her gaze for a moment. "I mean every word."
They moved to the checkout, and the mood softened again. Outside, the sky had dimmed into gold. Chris opened the car door for her before circling around to the driver's seat.
As they drove, Patience leaned her head back slightly. "Thank you for today," she said.
"For the ride or the company?" he asked.
"Both."
There was a short pause. Then Chris spoke, more tenderly this time. "Patience, have you ever thought about us... like, beyond now?"
She turned to look at him, surprised by the weight of the question.
"I mean," he continued, eyes still on the road, "we've been engaged for months now. But with school, family, and—everything—you've been holding back. And I understand. I just wonder if we're both dreaming about the same kind of future."
Patience was quiet for a moment. "I think about it sometimes," she admitted. "But with so much uncertainty around me lately, I'm afraid to hold anything too tightly."
Chris nodded slowly. "I want what God wants for us, Patience. But I also want to build something real—with patience, yes, but with you."
She smiled at the pun but held onto his sincerity. "I want that too, Chris. I'm just... still learning how to trust what's real."
Just then, Chris's phone began to ring. The screen lit up with a name—he quickly turned it face down.
"Not going to pick that?" Patience asked casually.
Chris shook his head. "It's just a friend. If I pick it, it'll turn into a long conversation. I'll call back later."
The phone rang again. And again.
Patience tried to keep her expression neutral, but her fingers tightened around her purse.
Finally, the ringing stopped. Silence returned.
Then a message notification popped up on the screen before Chris could react.
She wasn't trying to read it, but it was right there—bold and too obvious to ignore.
"Chris why aren't you picking your calls? Am..."
Before the rest could appear, Chris hastily hit the screen and slipped the phone into his pocket.
Patience looked straight ahead, but her chest tightened. The message echoed in her mind like a half-open secret.
"Am…?"
Am what?
Am sorry? Am coming? Am I pregnant? Am confused?
Her mind began to race.
The whisper from earlier, the uneasiness at the party, the tension she couldn't shake since dawn—all of it rushed back like a cold wind.
She didn't speak, and neither did he.
But in the quiet hum of the moving car, something unspoken now sat between them—an invisible wall, thin but growing.