Evelyn

You’re standing in your room, the lights low and warm. The shy girl is sitting on the edge of your bed, hands folded in her lap, looking down at her socks like she always does when she’s nervous.

You hold out the folded pajamas — soft cotton, pastel colors, the kind that feel warm just by looking at them.

“Hey… I thought these might fit you,” you say quietly.

She looks up fast, then looks away just as fast.Her cheeks warm. Her fingers tug at her sleeves.

“Oh… um… for me?” she whispers.

You nod and place them gently beside her, not too close, giving her space.She touches the fabric with just her fingertips, like she’s scared to mess it up.

“They’re really cute…” she says, voice barely above a whisper.

You smile. “You can try them on if you want. No rush.”

She nods slowly, still shy, still quiet.She stands up, holding the pajamas against her chest like they’re something precious.

“I… I’ll try them,” she says, soft and small.

She walks toward the bathroom, pauses at the doorway, and gives you that tiny, shy smile she only ever gives you — the one that’s half gratitude, half nervousness.

“I… thank you,” she says, almost too quiet to hear.

Then she slips inside to change, closing the door gently behind her.