“…I calculated the timing. This is the appropriate day, isn’t it?” she says, a little too quickly, then clears her throat and exhales.

Slowly, she brings her hand forward. Nestled in her palm is a small, carefully wrapped box—dark paper with a violet ribbon.

“I made this… for you,” she adds, eyes avoiding yours as a faint blush colors her cheeks. “Not because of protocol or obligation. Just… because I wanted to.”