Forgotten Wife My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left (Clara and Liam) novel Chapter 261

Sienna’s POV

We pushed the shopping cart slowly, passing tall shelves filled with colorful stationery. Noah looked incredibly excited, almost bouncing every time he found something he thought would suit Bam. I watched him with a warm feeling in my chest. Noah had always been gentle and empathetic since he was little, but seeing him today somehow made me feel proud. There was something different about him.

“What about this one?” Noah lifted a pencil case with a big dinosaur printed on it.

I chuckled softly. “I don’t think Bam likes dinosaurs. What does he like?”

Noah shrugged, then turned back to the shelves. “I don’t know, but maybe just a green pencil case. Bam likes green. When we draw trees in class, he always picks the green crayon first.”

I smiled widely. “Then let’s look for a green one.”

As Noah moved along the shelves again, I held the cart and watched his small back bouncing under the store lights. A quiet swell of emotion settled in my chest. A child that young could understand someone else’s embarrassment, could choose silence just to protect a friend’s dignity. It felt like a quiet slap to the adult part of me that had always believed problems had to be solved through confrontation.

Noah stopped in front of another shelf filled with cute erasers shaped like fruits and animals. His hand moved quickly he picked up an apple-shaped one, then put it back. He frowned, then picked up another shaped like a cloud. This time, he held it longer, as if weighing something important.

I stepped closer, careful not to interrupt the small process happening inside his head. He wasn’t just choosing an item; he was learning to consider someone else’s feelings, placing himself in a position that wasn’t necessarily comfortable. And that wasn’t easy even for adults.

“Mom,” he said without turning around, “if Bam feels embarrassed later, Noah doesn’t want to make him feel more embarrassed.”

The sentence came out naturally, innocent and unburdened. But my chest felt gently squeezed from the inside.

“That’s why Noah’s picking something simple,” he continued. “Something that doesn’t look like a gift.”

I swallowed. “You thought about that too?”

He nodded slightly. “Yeah. Because if it looks like a gift, he might think Noah feels sorry for him.”

I fell silent for a few seconds. There was a quiet wisdom there, born from empathy, not theory. I rested my hands on the cart handle, feeling the cold metal, trying to steady the emotion rising in my chest.

We walked on. Noah slowed down, his gaze focused. He stopped in front of a shelf of plain pencil cases with no pictures, no characters, just soft colors. Dark green. Moss green. Pastel green.

He picked up the moss-green one.

“This one,” he said confidently. “It looks like Noah’s old pencil case. So Bam won’t feel weird.”

I smiled, this time not bothering to hide the emotion. ” That’s a good choice.”

He looked up at me, his eyes bright but calm. “Mommy agrees?”

We headed to the children’s backpack section. There were hundreds of choices, but Noah immediately picked up a dark green bag with a spacious interior. “This one fits a lot. Bam Likes drawing, right? So he can bring hissketchbook.”

I paused, looking at the bag in his hands. The size was just right, not too big for Bam’s small body, but roomy enough to hold a sketchbook, a pencil case, and maybe a few loose sheets of paper he always folded carelessly. Noah didn’t choose the flashiest or the most expensive one. He chose the most useful.

“You’re sure about this one?” I asked softly not doubting him, just wanting to hear his reason again.

Noah nodded firmly. “Yeah. The others have robots and superheroes. Bam doesn’t really draw those. He draws trees and little houses more.”

I fell silent. He noticed details that were small. It made me wonder how many things myself had overlooked, even when they were right in front of me.

Noah placed the bag into the cart, then stood beside me, both hands gripping the cart’s edge like a tiny adult carrying out an important mission.

“Mommy,” he said again, this time more quietly, “if Bam asks later why Noah bought all this what should Mommy say?”

I looked at him. “What do you think Mommy should say?”

He thought for a moment, his brows furrowing. “Just say Noah wanted a friend to draw with.”