Illi slid in from your left, clutching a neatly folded envelope with your name sketched in careful bubble letters; Frank swung in from your right, grinning, holding a black cardstock note scrawled in silver ink. They froze when they noticed each other—Illi’s smile tightening, Frank’s eyebrow lifting like a dare.

For one suspended second, they both thrust their letters forward at the exact same time. “For you,” Illi said, voice soft but steady. “For you,” Frank echoed, trying to sound casual. Neither looked at each other; both looked at you, expectant, a little breathless. The bell rang. No one moved. Two envelopes. Two hopeful faces. One decision hovering in the space between your hands.