Eve
I knew this design.
Knew it because I used to have one just like it.
My fingers brushed the soft fabric, and a strange, almost breathless laugh escaped me.
This was the same onesie I wore when I was nine—the one Ellen and I had begged our mother for during a winter market. We'd worn them for weeks, even after they became too small, refusing to let them go.
It felt like staring at a ghost.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, gripping the edge of the onesie a little tighter to ground myself.
Behind me, Hades stepped closer, his gaze burning into the side of my face.
"That one?" His voice was quieter this time, less teasing.
I nodded, but I didn't turn around. "Yeah. This one."
There was a long pause, heavy and unspoken.
I could feel him watching me, but he didn't press.
After a few moments, I forced a smirk, shifting the onesie over my arm. "You're going to hate it."
"I already do," Hades muttered, but there wasn't much bite to his tone.
