It was the office Christmas party, the kind with lukewarm punch and awkward small talk. This year, we’d agreed to a strict twenty-dollar limit for our Secret Santa exchange. Everyone grumbled about the constraint, but it was meant to keep things fair and fun. I certainly hadn’t put too much thought into the gift I bought for Brenda in accounting—a nice, but predictable, gourmet coffee set.
When it was my turn, I pulled the slip of paper from the bowl. It was Connor, the quiet graphic designer from the third floor. I didn’t know him well; he mostly kept to himself, headphones permanently attached. His packages were always beautifully wrapped, though, which I found kind of endearing. This year, his box was heavier than the others, wrapped in midnight blue paper with a silver ribbon.
As I tore the paper away, a collective gasp went around the small circle of colleagues. Resting on a bed of velvet was a silver ring. Not a cheap trinket, but a truly beautiful piece. It was set with a small, yet vibrant, emerald stone that caught the twinkle of the Christmas lights. It looked expensive. Way, way beyond the twenty-dollar limit we’d all agreed upon.
“Wow, Connor,” someone whistled. “That’s, uh, something.”
Connor just gave a shy shrug, his cheeks flushing crimson under his messy brown hair. “I know it’s over the limit,” he mumbled, barely making eye contact. “But I saw it, and I just… I thought of you.” He said it so sincerely, so earnestly, that it didn’t come across as bragging, just a little bit clumsy.
The ring fit perfectly, which was another small surprise. I wore it immediately, and the emerald became a little spot of color on my hand that drew a lot of compliments over the next few weeks. It felt special, like a tiny secret between me and the usually silent Connor. I wondered what he meant by “I thought of you.” Had he noticed I always wore silver? That green was my favorite color? It was a sweet gesture, but the mystery of his extravagant choice lingered.
I did try to politely press him about the cost the following Monday, but he just brushed it off. “Don’t worry about it, Amelia. It was on sale, and I had a coupon,” he insisted, though the ring certainly didn’t look like a discount item. The whole thing was highly unusual behavior for Connor, who seemed uncomfortable with even this small amount of attention. It was a peculiar way for a Secret Santa gift to turn out, but I loved the ring too much to argue further.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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