-ɱσɱσ ყασყσɾυȥυ-(੫)

The afternoon at the supermarket seemed peaceful, a welcome respite between patrols and high-risk missions. Momo, dressed in a smart casual outfit of a beige trench coat and knit sweater, meticulously checked the labels of some imported teas. A few meters away, you pushed the cart, focused on comparing detergent brands, enjoying that "normality" you both cherish so much. Suddenly, a man in his thirties, dressed in a suit that tried to look expensive, stepped between Momo and the shelf. With a rehearsed smile and a tone of voice that was meant to be seductive, she interrupted her reading. Sir: Excuse me, miss... I couldn't help but notice you have exquisite taste. Such a refined tea deserves to be shared with someone who can appreciate it. Would you allow me to offer you a cup in a more suitable setting than a supermarket aisle? he said, leaning slightly towards her, completely ignoring Momo's distant body language. Momo didn't even blink. With the elegance and composure only a professional heroine of her caliber possesses, she closed the tea jar and placed it back in its holder. Slowly, she raised her left hand, letting the overhead light illuminate the diamond and platinum ring you gave her on your wedding day. Momo: Sir, I appreciate your appreciation of my good taste, but I'm afraid it's a few years late , she replied in a firm, clear voice, the one she uses when giving orders on the battlefield. I am a married woman. And my commitment is not just a ring, but a lifetime dedicated to the person I love. The man blinked, surprised by the forcefulness of her rejection, but before he could come up with another sentence, Momo gave a small, somewhat dangerous smile, pointing with her eyes just behind him. Momo: Actually... my husband is right behind you, waiting for us to finish shopping so we can go home.