The perfect Gift

Chapter 7

Tina's POV

I stared at the endless sea of assignments on my laptop screen, my eyes blurring as deadlines stacked up like dominos, ready to collapse on me. I couldn't even tell which one was due first. It felt like the universe had conspired to break my spirit with due dates and citation formats. With dramatic, frustration.

"Huh!". My version of a battle cry. I slammed the laptop shut and staggered to the kitchen like a war weary soldier.

Food. I need food. Now.

I flung open cabinet doors, scanning for something. Anything that could calm the ravenous beast inside me. My hormones were waging a civil war thanks to my period, and the cravings? Oh, they were out of control. Sweet? No. Salty? Closer. Spicy and zesty? Bingo.

"Pickles," I muttered like a woman possessed. "Where are the pickles?"

My gaze swept over the barren shelves, the absence of pickles feeling like a personal betrayal. For a split second, my craving induced hysteria whispered, Am I pregnant? I slapped my cheeks, the ridiculousness of the thought hitting me like a truck. "How can I be pregnant when I haven't even been with anyone?" I rolled my eyes at myself. "Plus, still a virgin at 20? That's gotta count for something."

Virginity: 1. Me: 0. Romance: Probably somewhere laughing.

My mom had always told me that being a virgin was a treasure, something to save for the right person. For years, I believed her. I still do. Even if people here would probably roll their eyes so hard they'd sprain something. I'd almost shared that treasure once but luckily saved. Steve. Ugh. I shuddered. He had seemed perfect. Until his true colors bled through like ink on cheap paper. Since then, I've been careful. Until… Joe.

The thought of Joe tugged at something deep inside. Could he be the one? How would I know? Mom's voice echoed in my head. When you know, you know. It's a feeling, not a sign. I sighed, feeling a confusion twist like a pretzel in my chest. Joe made my heart race in a way it hadn't since… well, ever. But was that enough?

One thing was certain: overthinking wouldn't feed me.

I tossed on a hoodie and boots, determined to hunt down the perfect meal. The cool evening air felt like a reset button, and for the first time today, I felt lighter. As I strolled along, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have someone beside me. Someone who'd bring me snacks when I was craving or hug me just because they knew I needed it.

Before I knew it, I stood in front of a cozy little restaurant, the sign reading Indian Cuisine glowing warmly. My stomach did a happy dance. "Perfect."

Inside, the scent of spices wrapped around me like a hug. "Good evening, ma'am," the waitress greeted, handing me a menu.

I scanned it, my indecision mounting. Why was picking food harder than choosing a college major? The waitress returned, smiling patiently. "Have you decided?"

"I want... pickles," I blurted, feeling a bit sheepish. Her eyes sparkled with understanding, and she helped me find dishes that came with pickles. Bless her soul.

"Paneer Tikka Masala Chicken," I finally said, feeling victorious. "Make it spicy, please."

As I waited, I soaked in the ambiance. The soft murmur of voices, the gentle clinking of silverware. It was peaceful, a balm for my frazzled nerves. But then, a familiar scent wafted by, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.

Joe?

I turned, eyes scanning the room. Nope. Just a random couple. I exhaled, half relieved, and half- disappointed. As much as I liked Joe, tonight was my "me" time.

The food arrived, and my stomach practically applauded. "Enjoy your meal," the waitress said, smiling. I snapped a quick picture because how could I not? It looked like a plate of happiness. I dove into the pickles first. One bite, and I swear I heard angels sing.

Midway through my meal, a group of girls walked in, their laughter loud and familiar. My eyes widened. Tamara. Of all the people to run into!

I sank lower in my chair, praying she wouldn't notice me in my hoodie and worn-out jeans. Tamara always looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine, while I currently resembled a stressed out potato. Why does life do this to me?

The waitress returned. "Dessert?"

"Yes," I blurted, not even caring what I ordered. It was a stalling tactic. When the dessert. Halva arrived, it was sweet enough to momentarily distract me. I snuck glances at Tamara, each one filled with silent pleas for her to leave.

Finally, the doorbell jingled, and her group walked out.

Victory.

I paid the bill and stepped out, my stomach full and my heart a little lighter. As I wandered down the street, I passed a small bookstore and, without thinking, walked in. The smell of old paper was like a warm blanket.

"Looking for anything in particular?" the elderly woman behind the counter asked.

"Romance," I replied, my voice soft but sure. She pointed me to a corner, and I browsed until a title caught my eye. Many Promises Broken. My breath hitched. I've been searching for this book forever.

Holding it felt like holding magic. And as I took it to the counter, a thought struck me. Joe would love this. His birthday was coming up. It was simple, but meaningful.

As I left the bookstore, I hugged the book close to my chest, a soft smile playing on my lips. Sometimes, it's the small things that matter most. The perfect meal, the right book, and the hope that love might be waiting just around the corner.

Joe's POV

As I stared at the small gift box resting in one corner of my office table, a sharp ache pierced my chest. Calvin's leaving... and the reality of it hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. How do you prepare for losing your rock, your knight, your... unpaid therapist? He's been there through everything, from my worst hangovers to my worst decisions. What's life going to look like when he's no longer just a call away?

I grabbed the box, turning it over in my hands. I had to make his farewell party unforgettable. A night that would remind him of all the chaos we'd survived together. A proper send-off. One that screamed, "We're not crying; you're crying."

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my thoughts. Just a random notification. I messaged Eric and Justin:

"Meet me at the bar. We need to plan Calvin's party."

The three dots blinked. Then stopped. Great, even my friends were ghosting me now.

Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I took a deep breath and went out front to help the café staff with the rush. The place was chaotic. A whirlwind of coffee cups and overly complicated orders. I took over the cash register, hoping the constant clinking of coins would drown out my spiraling thoughts.

"Herbert," I called, scanning the crowd, "can you do a round and make sure no one's threatening to Yelp-review us into oblivion?"

Half an hour of non-stop orders later, things finally slowed down. I wiped the counter, only to freeze when I spotted a familiar face. Trisha, sitting with some guy who looked vaguely familiar. Was he her friend? Cousin, can't be? Boyfriend? My brain scrambled to place him like a forgotten song lyric.

A crazy idea sparked. What if I asked Trisha for Tina's number? Bold, maybe desperate. But desperate times called for desperate… awkwardness. If I didn't try now, I'd regret it later. And regret paired horribly with espresso shots.

Taking a breath, I approached their table, my heart drumming like I'd just downed three lattes. "Hey there," I greeted, aiming for casual. Probably landed on weird.

Trisha's eyes widened, her expression somewhere between surprise and "Oh no, not now." "Oh... hey," she said, shooting a quick glance at the guy. Was she worried I'd scare him off? Honestly, I was worried I'd scare myself off.

"Busy weekend, huh?" I said, immediately cringing. Wow. Smooth.

"Yeah, sort of," she replied, shifting like her chair was made of lava. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"Uh, yeah. My friends," I lied, mentally kicking myself. This was going downhill faster than a skateboard with no brakes. "So... where's Tina? Thought you three were glued together."

She sighed, clearly not in the mood for my small-talk disaster. "Tina and Veronica left early. Shopping-induced exhaustion."

Shopping? That's... specific. "Oh, that's too bad. Hey, by the way, I'm throwing a party next Friday. Wanted to invite you guys."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Tina already invited us. Plus-two life, you know?"

Bingo. "Right, well, I should probably have your number. Just in case there are any changes."

She smirked, catching on like a shark to blood. "Why do you need my number?" she teased, shooting a look at the guy like I'd just professed undying love.

Abort mission! Abort! "For updates. Party details. Very important stuff." My pulse was now doing Zumba.

She laughed but took my phone, typing in her number. Seconds later, my screen lit up. Tina's and Veronica's numbers. Mission accomplished.

"Thanks, Trisha," I said, barely suppressing a fist-pump. "You two better show up. It's going to be legendary."

"We'll be there," she promised, exchanging a look with her mystery date. A look that screamed, "We'll talk later."

Back in my office, I collapsed into my chair, heart still racing. I finally had Tina's number. A tiny, fragile step closer to something I wasn't sure I deserved.

Later, at the bar, Justin and Eric were already halfway through a bottle. Justin grinned like he'd won the lottery. "Finally! Thought you got lost in the café."

I chuckled, sliding into a seat. "So, how are we going to make Calvin's best night ever?"

Justin smirked. "Lake house. My uncle's place. And, you know... entertainment."

"Entertainment?" Eric raised an eyebrow, already grinning. "You mean strip dancers?"

I hesitated, picturing Calvin's horrified face. "Not sure that's the vibe."

"Come on, man! It's Calvin's party, not a meditation retreat." Justin nudged me, excitement practically leaking out of him. "He'll love it. We'll make it legendary."

They high fived, their enthusiasm contagious. I laughed, memories of our wild graduation night flashing back. Calvin crowd surfing off the kitchen table. Good times.

"Fine," I relented. "But if anything goes sideways, you're taking the blame."

"Deal." Justin raised his bottle. "To Calvin's unforgettable send-off!"

Back home, I warmed up dinner and settled on the couch. The house felt... empty. My phone buzzed.

Trisha.

Message: "Don't mention the guy I was with to Tina or Veronica. Haven't told them yet."

I stared at the message, then replied: "Your secret's safe. Thanks for Tina's number. Night."

As I put down the phone, I smiled. A small victory but one that stirred something deep inside. I told myself I wouldn't fall again. Not after what happened before. But with Tina... maybe this time's different.

Maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to piece me back together.

Trisha's POV

"While staring at my phone, a gnawing feeling whispered. Secrets never stay hidden for long…"

I dropped my phone onto the bed, watching it tumble like my thoughts. Chaotic, wild, and uncontrollable. My heart pounded, each beat a cruel reminder of the turmoil within. Joe had promised my secret was safe with him, but was it really? My mind replayed his words, trying to decipher hidden meanings. Could he betray me? Could he twist my truth into something dark and cruel? Could he use it against me?

No, I tried to reassure myself. He wouldn't. But the uncertainty clawed at my chest. My fingers dug into the soft blanket beneath me, as if the fabric could anchor me in this storm of doubt. How well did I really know Joe?

I stared up at the ceiling, tears welling in my eyes, my chest tightening with regret that felt like a noose around my neck. Why did I agree to meet Edam? Why there? Love & Latte. The name felt bitter now. I knew that place was a trap too many familiar faces, too many eyes. I should have known better. But seeing Joe there, the shock of it his eyes locking onto mine like he could see every secret I tried to bury. It was too much.

A lump formed in my throat. Tina and Veronica. I should tell them. I should've told them everything from the start. But now the thought of their disappointment, their anger. It will unbearable. They'd hate me for keeping this from them. Another secret, another lie stacked on the fragile house of cards I'd built. How much longer before it all collapsed?

Why am I like this? Why can't I just... be honest? But no. Honesty felt like a luxury I couldn't afford. I was too deep in the web I'd spun, tangled in the expectations I'd let others weave around me. Tired. God, I was so tired. Tired of being everything for everyone. The perfect friend. The dutiful daughter. The top student. A people pleaser, always dancing to someone else's tune.

But what about me? My chest ached, the weight of years pressing down on me. What about what I want? I clutched the pillow tighter, as if squeezing it would squeeze out the pain. I wanted freedom. Real freedom. Not the hollow promises of a better future if I just stayed the course. Not the illusion of choice wrapped in gold and silk.

I wanted to rip it all away. The suffocating expectations, the fake smiles, the endless lies. I wanted to scream until my voice broke, until they all heard me. Until they knew I was done being their puppet. No more.

Tears rolled down my temples, hot and silent. The room spun, the walls closing in. The luxury I was surrounded by felt like a prison, each piece of expensive furniture a chain, each silk sheet a reminder of the cage I lived in. A gilded cage. I'd traded my happiness for comfort, my freedom for approval.

Enough. My thoughts solidified, resolving hardening like steel in my veins. No more pretending. No more pleasing. No more living for anyone else. Life was slipping through my fingers, and I refused to let it trickle away unnoticed. I would take control. I would find my own happiness, even if it meant tearing down everything they'd built for me. I deserve to be free.

A sharp vibration jolted me back to reality, my phone buzzing on the mattress. The screen lit up with his name. My heart clenched, a cold wave washing over me. Not now. Not tonight. I turned away from the screen, my breath shaky, tears still falling. He could wait. The world could wait.

Tonight, I would rest. Tonight, I would dream of freedom, of a life where I was more than their expectations. And tomorrow? Tomorrow, I will start fighting for it. No more secrets. No more lies. No more chains.

But as I closed my eyes, a new thought crept in, dark and unsettling: What if it's already too late?

______________________________

"Sometimes, the hardest battles are fought in silence, behind smiles and secrets, where freedom feels like a distant dream and the heart longs to break free from the chains it never asked to wear."