Paul's eyes seemed frozen. He was looking at the woman in front of him, but he wasn't truly seeing her. His mind was elsewhere. His pupils trembled slightly. The expression on his face bore the traces of a sudden shock. It was as if time had stopped in an instant.
Grace approached him from behind and placed her hand gently on Paul's shoulder. Her touch was light but drew his attention.
"Brother?" Her voice this time was softer than usual.
Paul's eyes moved slowly. He looked away from the woman and his gaze drifted back to the jersey. That jersey... that familiar combination of red and white... It wasn't just a jersey. It was a memory. A past. A burden...
Suddenly, his breathing quickened. His chest heaved up and down. His breath became irregular, as if something were squeezing him from the inside. Grace noticed this. The joy on her face vanished completely, replaced by concern.
"Brother." She took another step closer. "You've turned pale."
It was true; the color had drained from Paul's face. His lips were pale. The shop assistant noticed the situation as well and furrowed her brows slightly.
"Are you alright?"
Paul said nothing for a few seconds. He just breathed. Deep... deeper... Then, he slowly began to bring his breathing under control. His shoulders relaxed. His eyes cleared a bit more. He composed himself and put a normal expression back on his face.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." A short pause. "There's no problem."
Grace let out a deep breath, as if the tension inside her had been released. Her shoulders dropped slightly; she was relieved. But Paul's interior... was not at ease at all.
His eyes drifted back to the jersey. This time, he was more careful. More intense. He slowly reached out and took the jersey the woman was holding. The moment his fingers touched the fabric... something changed. It was as if time were flowing backward.
The jersey I wore in my last match, the sentence echoed in his mind.
The woman smiled slightly. "It's obvious you're a die-hard Southampton fan."
Paul didn't answer. He just stared at the jersey. The woman continued.
"I'm sure you know how meaningful this jersey is."
Those words caught Paul's attention. He looked up at the woman. "I don't know the meaning, what do you mean?"
The woman began to explain. "Well, you see—"
But her sentence was cut short. Grace intervened. "Brother." She looked at Paul. "If you've decided on what you're buying, can we go now?"
There was a slight urgency in her voice. Perhaps she felt the tension in the air. Paul thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Yes, we can go."
The woman spoke again, pointing to the jersey. "Will you be taking the jersey?"
Paul's gaze returned to the jersey once more. This time he looked at it for a longer duration, focusing specifically on the name. That name... it was like a rope tying him to his past.
Years have passed since what felt like yesterday to me, he thought. His eyes softened, but there was a weight inside him. For now, the past must be left in the past. His fingers tightened slightly. When the time comes, my past will come to light.
He looked up at the woman. "No, I won't take it." His voice was firm.
The woman took the jersey back. "As you wish," she said, smiling politely.
After letting go of the jersey, something inside Paul felt like it had snapped. But at the same time... he had suppressed something. A short while later, he headed to the checkout. He purchased the football. He and Grace left the shop together.
They merged back into the crowd of the mall, but this time, Paul's mind was full. Grace suddenly regained her energy. She raised her hand and pointed to another store.
"Brother, let's go in there too and buy you some new clothes."
Paul looked at her, a slight smile forming on his face. "Yes, that would be good."
And so, a new round began. Grace seemed unstoppable. She moved quickly through the store, looking at shelves, examining clothes, and buying what she liked without a second thought. Paul followed behind her.
At first, he was calm. But as time passed... the situation changed. Grace was constantly picking things out. Paul's hands began to fill. One bag... two... three... soon, he even lost count. Bags were hanging from his arms. The weight was steadily increasing. Grace still hadn't stopped.
Traveling with Grace is truly exhausting... Paul thought to himself, but he didn't say it out loud.
After a while, he couldn't take it anymore. He looked at Grace. "When you said 'let's go,' I thought I was going home." He raised an eyebrow. "Was your goal to use me as a slave?"
Grace stopped suddenly. She turned her head and looked at Paul, a look of shock on her face. "How did you figure out the plan?"
Paul remained silent for a few seconds, then looked at her with a blank expression. "So you admit you're using me as a slave..."
Grace didn't answer, but the expression on her face said everything. Paul took a deep breath and started walking.
"Destination: home, then!" His voice was determined.
Grace didn't object to this decision. Paul sighed. "Finally." That single word explained how tired he was.
A while later, they arrived home. The door opened, and their mother greeted them with a warm smile.
"Did you have a good time?"
Paul answered immediately. "For me, no." He added without thinking, "For Grace, yes."
Grace cut in immediately. "It was so much fun!"
Their mother smiled. "I'm glad."
Paul blinked his eyes. Does no one hear what I'm saying? But he didn't say it out loud. He handed the bags to Grace. "I brought them all the way to the house; at least you can take out what we bought."
Grace's shoulders dropped, and her face crumpled slightly. "You have no mercy for your dear sister, brother..."
Paul didn't answer. This time, his mother turned to him. "Are you going somewhere?"
Paul smiled slightly, but there was something else beneath that smile. "No." A short pause. "I'm just going out for a run and to practice a bit with the ball."
The sentence seemed simple, but it carried much more within it. Because some memories... no matter how much you suppress them... never truly disappear.