"Love rarely arrives in grand gestures. More often, it hides inside the little things we almost forget."
By the time we carried the groceries into the kitchen, Mama already had the table set.
"Finally," she said, placing a pitcher of cold water at the center of the table. "I was starting to think the grocery store had adopted all three of you."
Papa chuckled as he placed the loaf of bread on the counter.
"I told you, someone insisted on carrying everything."
"I almost did," Zero defended himself, setting the last grocery bag on the floor with a dramatic grunt.
I couldn't help smiling.
"You almost carried yourself into another dimension."
"I was fine."
"You looked like you were negotiating with gravity."
Papa laughed so hard he had to steady himself against the refrigerator.
Zero shot both of us an offended look before crossing his arms.
"You know what?"
"What?" I asked.
"When I become taller than Ate, I'm never helping her carry anything."
I raised an eyebrow.
"So... never?"
Papa let out another laugh.
Mama covered her smile with the back of her hand.
Even Zero tried to stay serious for all of three seconds before a reluctant grin escaped him.
"I walked right into that one."
"You really did," Papa agreed.
The laughter slowly settled into a comfortable silence as everyone took their seats around the table.
It was a habit we never talked about.
Papa always sat at the head of the table. Mama preferred the chair closest to the kitchen.
Zero sat beside me—not because there were no other seats, but because he'd been doing it since he was little.
Even after insisting he was "too old" to hold my hand in public, he still unconsciously chose the chair beside mine every single meal.
Some habits outlast childhood.
Mama scooped steaming champorado into our bowls before drizzling evaporated milk across the top in neat white swirls.
"There," she said with satisfaction. "Now eat before it gets cold."
The first spoonful was exactly as I remembered.
Rich. Creamy. Comforting.
It tasted like rainy afternoons, childhood weekends, and every memory of home rolled into one.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment. "This should honestly be illegal."
Papa looked up from his bowl.
"What should?"
"Making champorado this good."
Mama laughed. "Flattery again?"
"I mean every word."
"That's because you're eating."
"I'd say the same thing even if I wasn't."
Papa leaned toward Mama and whispered loudly enough for all of us to hear, "She definitely wants something."
"I do not!"
Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.
I sighed dramatically. "...Maybe just another bowl."
"I knew it," Mama said, laughing.
While everyone continued eating, Zero remained unusually quiet.
Not silent. Just... distracted.
Every few seconds, he'd glance toward me before quickly looking away the moment our eyes met.
By the fourth time, I finally caught him. "What?"
He blinked innocently.
"What do you mean, what?"
"You keep looking at me."
"I do not."
"You've looked at me four times."
"Five," Papa corrected between bites.
Zero groaned.
"Whose side are you on?"
"The funny side."
I laughed. "So?"
I nudged Zero lightly with my elbow.
"What is it?"
He stirred the champorado in his bowl for a moment before speaking.
"Ate..."
"Hmm?"
"If..." He hesitated, suddenly fascinated by the spoon in his hand. "If someone wanted to go somewhere today..."
I smiled.
"That's a very specific someone."
"I'm asking for... a friend."
"Oh?"
"What friend?"
"...Me."
Papa snorted into his drink.
"I respect the honesty."
I rested my chin on one hand, pretending to think.
"And where exactly does this 'friend' want to go?"
Zero finally looked up.
His eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Timezone."
I already knew that answer before he said it.
He'd been talking about Timezone for almost a month, ever since one of his classmates won enough tickets to trade them for a giant stuffed bear.
Every afternoon after school, he'd tell me about the games he wanted to try.
The basketball machine. Air hockey. Racing simulators.
Even the claw machine he insisted he could finally beat. He'd never admit it, but I knew he wasn't excited about the prizes. He was excited about spending the day together.
I looked at him for a second before smiling.
"I think that's a great idea."
His face lit up so quickly it was impossible not to smile back. "Really?"
I nodded.
"If Mama says yes."
Almost in perfect synchronization... Both of us slowly turned toward Mama.
She was calmly sipping her coffee.
She looked from me...
to Zero... then back again.
Without saying a word, she already knew exactly what we were about to ask.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Oh, no."
Papa quietly lowered his spoon.
I immediately recognized that smile. It wasn't a happy smile.
It was the smile Mama wore whenever she was about to say something neither of us wanted to hear.
Zero looked at me.
I looked at him.
Then, together...
We both spoke.
"Maaaa..."
Mama sighed.
"I haven't even answered yet."
"Please?" Zero asked, his voice softening into the same tone that had gotten him out of trouble since he was five years old.
She looked at him with so much love that, for a brief moment, I thought she'd give in.
Instead...
Her smile slowly faded.
"I'm sorry."
The room fell quiet.
"...Not today."
Zero's smile disappeared.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
It simply...
faded.
And somehow...
That hurt even more.
End of Chapter 3
— IamPrecious —