I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 439 Let me do this

Alina smiled at that, a wave of warmth spreading through her chest. Her hand settled softly on Lucien’s shoulder, a light, protective touch. "They’re good boys," she said simply, and she couldn’t keep the quiet pride from slipping into her voice.

"They truly are," the saleswoman agreed immediately. She bent her knees slightly, bringing herself more to their level, her tone turning playful. "And just look at the two of you," she said, her eyes sweeping over their new outfits. "Already dressed sharper than most grown-ups who come in here."

Sable blinked, then looked down at his shirt and pants as if seeing them properly for the very first time. "Mom chose it," he stated honestly, his gaze then lifting to Alina’s face, full of pure, unwavering trust.

Lucien nodded in firm agreement. "She has excellent taste," he added, his tone so serious and matter-of-fact it was as if he were confirming a universal truth.

Alina let out a soft, breathy laugh, feeling the familiar, happy heat rise to her cheeks once more. Dante watched from his spot, his arms relaxed at his sides. He didn’t say a word, but the way his eyes stayed on the boys, soft and approving, made it clear he felt every bit of that praise right along with them.

The saleswoman straightened up, her smile lingering, gentle and sincere. "You’re doing a wonderful job," she said to Alina, her voice dropping into something heartfelt. "Really. With both of them."

After the saleswoman left, Alina was still grinning, a silly, happy smile she couldn’t seem to shake. Her heart felt light as a feather. With the boys changed back into their original clothes, she drifted back to the racks, her fingers brushing over the soft fabrics. She couldn’t resist. She chose a cozy sweater with a little bear knitted on the front for Sable, and for Lucien, a deep blue cardigan that made him look like a tiny professor. She added a pair of striped pajamas, two more soft t-shirts, and tiny socks with rockets and dinosaurs on them. The basket was now overflowing with little bundles of softness.

She walked to the checkout counter, her arms full of the chosen clothes. The friendly cashier began scanning them, the soft beeps filling the comfortable silence. The total flashed on the screen.

"That will be two hundred and twelve dollars and eighty cents," the cashier said with a smile.

Nodding, Alina set her purse on the counter and began to open it. "Of course," she said, her fingers finding her wallet.

But before she could pull her card free, a large, warm hand settled over hers, stilling her movement. Dante had stepped close, his presence solid and immediate beside her.

"Use mine," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. With his free hand, he retrieved a sleek, black card from his inner pocket and placed it on the counter between them.

Alina looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Dante, you don’t have to—"

"I want to," he interrupted, his tone final but not unkind. His gaze held hers for a moment, and in it was a simple, steadfast message: Let me do this.

The young cashier watched the exchange, her eyes flicking between the strikingly handsome, serious man and the beautiful, flustered woman. A dreamy, faraway look came into her eyes. As she picked up Dante’s card, she leaned toward Alina and whispered, not so quietly, a giggle in her voice, "Oh my gosh. This is just like a scene straight out of one of those CEO romance novels I was obsessed with as a teenager. You know, where the billionaire always insists on paying?"

She meant it as a whispered aside to Alina, a little moment of female solidarity.

But Dante’s hearing was preternaturally sharp. His head turned sharply toward the cashier, his brows drawing together in a deep, genuine frown of confusion. He looked utterly baffled.

"CEO... novels?" he repeated, the words sounding foreign and strange on his tongue. He looked at Alina, his confusion plain. "What is she talking about?"

Alina’s face flushed a brilliant scarlet. She let out a soft, choked laugh, mortified and amused all at once. She swatted playfully at the cashier’s arm. "Ignore her," she said quickly to Dante, then shot the grinning cashier a look that was half-scolding, half-entertained. "He’s just... paying."

The cashier, realizing she’d been overheard, clapped a hand over her mouth, her own cheeks turning pink. "Sorry! Sorry! It’s just... the vibe!" she whispered, hurriedly finishing the transaction and handing Dante his card back.

Dante took it, still looking from one woman to the other as if they were speaking a language he’d never learned. He slid the card back into his pocket, deciding it was better not to ask for further explanation and investigate later.

Dante held the shopping bags in both hands, the weight of them a solid, swaying pull against his arms. Alina walked between the boys, her hands holding theirs. Sable’s steps were a happy little bounce beside her, his energy still sparkling from their adventure.

"Dante," Alina said suddenly, her voice bright and full of a new idea. "Let’s go see the toys. Just to look. For the babies, if they like something." Before he could even form a reply, she was already steering their small group toward the biggest toy store in sight, its wide glass windows shining like a rainbow cave, bursting with color.

He followed without a word, a soft, almost helpless smile touching his lips as he watched her lead the way. Inside the store, time seemed to stop mattering. Sable darted from aisle to aisle, his eyes wide as moons, picking up a stuffed dinosaur, then a sleek red car, holding each one as if it were treasure before carefully placing it back when Alina gently reminded him they should choose wisely. Lucien moved with more purpose. He would study a building set, his small fingers tracing the picture on the box. He’d press a button on a musical toy once, listening intently, then move to a wooden puzzle, testing a piece with quiet, thoughtful focus. Alina was everywhere with them. She crouched down next to Sable to look at a plane, knelt beside Lucien to sound out a word on a box, her laughter a soft, happy sound in the noisy store. Her hands were always gentle, her patience endless as she helped them compare and decide.

By the time they finally stepped out of the mall, the afternoon light was softening. Dante’s hands were full—multiple bags layered over his wrists, some swaying and brushing against his legs as he walked. The boys were quieter now, wrapped in that pleasant, drowsy tiredness that comes after pure joy. Alina looked lighter, too, a peaceful glow on her face.