Daniella did not turn toward the exit.
Her steps slowed, then veered left with quiet purpose, drawn by something deeper than reason. Her gaze had already locked onto the far wing of the mall where soft lighting spilled like warm milk across the floor. The kids' and maternity section.
It was quieter here, deliberately so. The harsh glare of the main corridors gave way to gentle, diffused illumination, pastel yellows, blush pinks, and powder blues painted across walls and display arches. Delicate mobiles turned lazily overhead, tiny silver stars and cotton clouds catching the light. The air smelled of new cotton, faint lavender, and the clean, powdery sweetness that only baby sections seemed to hold. It felt like stepping into another world entirely, one untouched by the metallic taste of gunpowder or the weight of silent threats.
