“He’s kicking to complain,” I said mildly, though I secretly enjoyed seeing her happy like this—unapologetic, vibrant, even when she was driving me insane.
She looped her arm through mine, tugging me down the street toward a shop with the scent of candles and incense wafting out the open door. “Oh, we’re going in here.”
“You know all this stuff is fake, right?” I said quietly. “Voodoo isn’t?—”
“Marco,” she interrupted patiently, placing a finger gently over my mouth, “please don’t ruin the magic for your unborn child.”
The shop was dim, lit mostly by candles and a few dusty lamps. The smell hit me instantly—something tangy, sweet, and earthy all at once, like smoke and herbs blended with nostalgia. Shelves lined every wall, overflowing with glass bottles filled with herbs and powders, dried flowers hanging from strings above us. There were statues too—small carvings and figures that stared blankly from their corners, faces frozen in expressions I couldn’t quite read.
Valentina’s eyes widened as she moved forward, her fingers brushing lightly over a rack of tiny vials labeled “Luck,” “Protection,” and “Wealth.”
“Oh, we definitely need luck,” she said firmly, grabbing two vials and handing them to me. “One for each of us, obviously.”
“Are you implying I’m unlucky?”
“Have you met you?” she teased, smiling sweetly. “You could win the lottery and still find something to grumble about.”
“You married me,” I pointed out dryly.
“And we both know it wasn’t for your sunny disposition,” she said, holding up a small bag filled with something dark and dried. “What’s this?”
“Graveyard dirt,” said a gentle voice from behind us.
I turned to find a woman with silver hair and rings on every finger watching us closely.
“Good for protection, strength, and keeping enemies away.”
Valentina arched a brow at me, holding the bag up. “We’ll take three.”
“Who exactly are we protecting ourselves from?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said casually. “Probably just the usual—ghosts, bad energy, maybe Max.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I’m serious,” she said mildly, handing the bag carefully back to the shopkeeper. “And maybe we should get one more for your mood.”
I shook my head, smiling faintly, as the shopkeeper chuckled and quietly bagged up Valentina’s purchases. Valentina wandered deeper into the shop, stopping at a display of brightly painted masks and carved figurines. Her fingers traced one—a small, detailed statue of a woman holding a baby. She paused for a moment, thoughtful, and then picked it up carefully.
“Who’s this?” Valentina asked softly.
“Maman Brigitte,” the woman answered. “Protector of mothers and children. She looks after pregnant women.”
Valentina glanced at me, her eyes softer now, less playful. “She sounds nice. I’ll take her too.”
I stepped closer, looking at the small carving skeptically. “You don’t believe this, do you?”
Valentina shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to. Maybe it just feels good to know there’s something watching over him. Over us.”
I felt a strange twist in my chest. I didn’t know what to say, so instead I just nodded slowly, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently.
The woman behind the counter smiled knowingly, handing Valentina a small, wrapped bundle. “Blessings to your child,” she said sincerely, eyes twinkling at me as if she knew exactly how skeptical I felt.
Valentina thanked her quietly, slipping the bundle into her bag, and as we stepped back onto the crowded sidewalk, I glanced down at her, eyebrow raised.
“You bought dirt.”
She shrugged lightly. “It’s enchanted dirt, Marco. It’s different.”
