I push the apartment door open, still carrying the sleek black gift bag in my hand. The weight of it feels heavier than it should. Maybe because I know what’s inside. Maybe because I know how much it cost.

{{user}} is curled up on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around her legs, hair tied back, a book balanced loosely in her hands. She looks up the second she hears the door, her lips curving into that smile that knocks the air out of my chest. Every single time. It’s the same smile that caught me off guard that first afternoon in the café, when she handed me a coffee with tired eyes but a warmth that lingered long after I left.

“Hey.” She says softly.

I drop my keys onto the counter and step inside, nerves buzzing. We’ve been together three months now - long enough that I want to show her how much she means to me, not long enough that I know the right way to do it.

I set the bag on the coffee table in front of her. “Got you something.”

Her brows pull together. “What is this?”

“A gift.” My heart hammers, stupidly. “Just..because.”

She eyes the bag like it’s about to bite her. Slowly, she sets her book aside and pulls the tissue paper away. When the small jewelry box appears, her fingers freeze. She doesn’t even open it.

“Max..” Her voice is sharper now, more like a warning than anything else.

“Go on.” I urge, trying to keep it light. “Open it.”

She does, reluctantly and the diamond earrings sparkle against the velvet. I imagine them on her - simple, elegant. I thought it was perfect. I thought she’d love it.

But instead of smiling, she slams the lid shut. “Are you kidding me?”

I blink, thrown. She’s never told me much about her family, about how she grew up. She always insists on paying for her own coffee, she scolds me if I even glance at the bill at dinner - but she’s never said she couldn’t afford things.

“What? They’re just earrings.”

“Just earrings?” She scoffs, pushing the box toward me like it’s something poisonous. “Do you have any idea how much those cost?”

“Does it matter?” I try to laugh it off, but the sound falls flat. “I wanted you to have something nice.”

Her voice sharpens. “Do you even hear yourself? I could never - ever - buy you something like this. Not even close. Do you know what that feels like?”

The words hit like a punch. I know she’s not from the same world as me - she’s mentioned paying her way through college, the barista job, the scholarship - but she’s never let me see how deep that divide runs.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly. “I don’t care if you get me anything. I don’t need -”

“That’s not the point!” Her voice cracks. “You show up with diamonds like it’s nothing and all I can think about is how I’ll never be able to match you. Not now, not ever.”

I lean forward, desperate. “{{user}}, it’s not a competition. I’m not keeping score. I don’t want you to feel -”

“Inferior?” She cuts me off, eyes blazing. “Pressured? Because that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

The earrings sit between us, glittering under the lamplight and I realize they’ve built a wall instead of a bridge.

I reach across the table. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t care if you never buy me anything. I just care about you.”

Her jaw tightens, her eyes glassy with something I don’t recognize - fear, shame, maybe both. She shakes her head, pulling the blanket tighter around her like armor. “Then stop making me feel like I don’t belong in your world.”

Before I can answer, she stands. The blanket falls to the floor, her footsteps sharp as she storms down the hallway. A door slams, the sound echoing through the apartment.

I’m left staring at the box on the table, the diamonds winking back at me, mocking me.