Peter
Peter stood beside the wooden stand, calling out to passing customers.
"Pears and pecans! Fresh pears and pecans over here!"
James handled the fruit, passing items to customers, while Naveen moved through the market, negotiating with other merchants.
Peter kept track of everything.
Money.
Sales.
Inventory.
Order.
By the time the sun dipped low, the crowd had thinned.
"Alright…" Peter muttered, counting under his breath. "Twenty-six… twenty-seven… twenty-eight…"
He looked up.
"We sold thirty-two pecans and twenty-six pears."
"Let's go find Dad," James said quickly.
"Wait—hold on." Peter straightened. "We have to pack up."
James groaned.
"You pack, I'll go—"
"No." Peter's tone sharpened. "Dad said we stick together. I'm in charge."
James rolled his eyes—but helped anyway.
They packed everything into the wagon, lifting crates and folding the stand.
"Okay," Peter said, grabbing the handles. "Now we go."
He pulled the wagon forward, James dragging his feet beside him.
"You know," Peter said, glancing down, "people probably think you're from a peasant family."
"I told you why I don't like shoes," James muttered, lowering his voice. "I feel my surroundings better—"
"I know," Peter cut him off. "And I don't care. Just stop talking about it—we're still in public."
James smirked.
"You're jealous."
Peter scoffed.
"Yeah. I'm jealous of a barefoot peasant."
"That's not what I meant," James grinned wider.
Peter opened his mouth to respond—
Then paused.
"Oh—Dad's over there."
Naveen stood nearby, speaking with an older red-haired woman and a young man—her son.
They approached just as the woman smiled.
"Oh, are these your sons?"
"Yes," Naveen said warmly. "This is Peter—my oldest. And this is James."
The woman's eyes softened.
"James looks just like you," she said kindly. "And this one—" she gestured to Peter, "he takes after his mother, doesn't he?"
Naveen nodded.
"Yes. Her features."
A pause.
"So," Naveen continued gently, "do we have a deal?"
The son shifted slightly.
"Mom… it's getting late. We should go."
He doesn't want her to buy it.
Peter blinked.
"…What?"
James nudged him.
But Peter barely noticed.
He wants to leave.
Peter's gaze snapped to the son.
He hadn't said anything.
She wants it… but she's waiting.
Now it was the woman.
Peter's chest tightened.
What is that?
He's giving up.
Peter turned.
His father.
But Naveen hadn't spoken either.
"Well," Naveen said politely, "perhaps next week—"
The son gently guided his mother away.
Peter stared.
But she wanted it… didn't she?
The thought came so naturally—
So clearly—
That he didn't question it.
He just acted.
"Wait, ma'am!"
His voice cut through the moment.
They stopped.
Naveen turned sharply.
"Don't you want to buy it?" Peter asked, genuinely confused. "I thought you did."
The woman hesitated, caught off guard.
"I… well… yes, but it's late—"
"It is," Peter nodded. "But if you want it, you should get it now. This is one of our most popular items—we might not have any next week."
She hesitated again.
"I would like to, but—"
"I'm sorry," Naveen started quickly.
But Peter stepped forward.
"I thought you wanted it," he said simply. "You were just unsure because he doesn't."
Silence.
James elbowed him hard.
"Stop," Peter muttered.
The woman looked between Peter and her son.
Then—
Something shifted.
"…Actually," she said slowly, "I would like to buy it."
Naveen blinked—surprised—but recovered quickly.
"Of course!"
He moved to grab the pecan tree.
James grabbed Peter's arm.
"What was that?"
Peter frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You just—said what they were thinking," James said, lowering his voice. "And then she actually bought it."
Peter blinked.
"I didn't… I just—"
He hesitated.
"…felt it."
James studied him for a second.
"…Huh."
Then shrugged.
"That happens to me too sometimes."
Peter let out a small breath.
"Yeah… I guess."
"Bye, boys!" the woman called, waving as she left with her son and the tree.
"Bye, ma'am!" Peter and James said together.
"Alright," Naveen said, grabbing the wagon. "Let's head home."
"Finally," James groaned.
They walked in silence for a while.
Then—
They want to go home.
Peter's steps faltered.
He looked at James.
Then at his father.
Neither had spoken.
Peter swallowed.
…I'm just tired.
"Great job back there, Peter," Naveen said suddenly. "I thought that might escalate—but you handled it well."
He smiled.
"I'm proud of you, James."
"Thanks, Dad," Peter said quickly.
But inside—
His chest swelled.
"Hurry up," James complained. "I'm starving."
"We all are," Naveen replied calmly.
They reached the forest.
The portal opened.
Home waited on the other side.
And Peter stepped through—
Still unaware
that what he called instinct
was something far more powerful.