One quiet evening,
me and my friend stepped into a small clothing shop.
She picked a dress and stood in front of the mirror, smiling at her reflection.
“It’s nice… but a little expensive,” she said.
So we did what everyone does, we started bargaining.
“Anna, reduce the price a little,” she said with a playful smile.
The sales boy looked young, maybe in his early twenties.
His shirt was neatly tucked in, though faded from many washes.
He smiled politely, the kind of smile people learn when they spend all day convincing customers.
Then his eyes suddenly fell on the phone in my hand.
It was big and shiny, catching the glow of the shop lights.
He laughed softly and said,
“Akka… you have such a big phone… still you are bargaining ah?”
We all laughed.
But then something changed.
He leaned a little closer, with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
“Akka… which phone is that?”
I have casually replied with, “Samsung S24 Ultra”.
His eyes widened slightly.
“Really? Ultra ah?
How much storage? How’s the camera? Battery good ah?”
He kept asking similar questions, almost like a child discovering something fascinating.
And I noticed something.
There was a spark in his eyes.
Not just curiosity.
Something deeper.
It was the look of someone who loves something… but probably can’t afford it yet.
He held the phone carefully for a second when I showed it to him.
Not like a salesman touching a product
But like someone touching a dream.
He returned it quickly though, almost as if he shouldn’t hold it for too long.
Then he went back to folding clothes.
But my heart felt heavy suddenly.
Because in that moment I realized something.
Maybe he watches phone reviews late at night after work.
Maybe he compares specifications in his mind.
Maybe he knows everything about gadgets.
But maybe…
His salary goes home.
To his parents.
To a younger sister’s school fees.
To medicines for someone waiting for him.
And suddenly the shop didn’t feel like just a shop anymore.
It felt like a place where dreams stand quietly behind the counter.
He went back to his work helping customers, smiling politely, and straightening dresses on the hangers.
But in that moment, I saw him differently.
Not just a sales boy.
A son.
A brother.
A young man who probably had dreams of his own.
People often say women sacrifice a lot.
But that day, another thought crossed my mind.
How many men silently put their dreams on hold?
How many times do they say,
“I’ll buy it later…”
Later turns into years.
Years turn into responsibilities.
And responsibilities slowly become life.
Before leaving, my friend asked,
“You like phones a lot, right?”
He smiled with a little shy saying,
“Yes… a lot.”
That smile stayed with me.
It wasn’t quite a happy smile.
It was the kind of smile people wear when they love something from a distance.
And in that moment I realized something.
Sometimes the strongest people are not the ones who chase their dreams.
But the ones who quietly pause them,
so the people they love can live theirs.