When I saw that everything Macy picked was pink, I couldn't help but let out a small, bitter laugh. "Why is everything pink? What if the baby is a boy?"
She was standing by the cots, still checking labels and sizes. Without even looking up, she said, "It doesn't matter. Boy or girl, they'll need these things anyway. If he doesn't like it later, we can just change everything after he's born."
I paused for a moment, then nodded slowly.
She wasn't wrong. It was simple logic, but somehow it still made my chest feel tight.
Soon, the trolley was full. More than full. Macy even added skincare items for me, saying I would need them as my body changed. She treated every detail like it mattered more than I did, like she was preparing for a future I was still unsure how to hold.
Watching her stack everything carefully, I couldn't help but laugh. "Macy, you're the godmother, not the mother. You're taking this more seriously than I am."
