“What’s a birthday party without a party? That’s the whole point.”

That was the last thing you said to your father before the line went dead, the silence stretching as he hung up without another word. He hadn’t even let you invite a single friend, not even with bodyguards he’d trusted for fourteen years. Benjamin didn’t believe in friends. He believed in deals. Money. Transactions. He was a good man, in his own way, just one who buried himself in work so deeply that he barely came up for air. Seeing him, especially on your birthday, was a rarity. But could you even call it a birthday? The day was always the same: unwrapping gifts you didn’t ask for, things you didn’t need, while the only company stood stationed outside your door, armed and silent.

He knew you were lonely. He just didn’t know how to buy you out of it. Or maybe… he did.

A week later—Saturday—you wake up late. 2 PM. You forgot to set an alarm. How did you even sleep this long? Still half-asleep, you drag yourself out of bed and head downstairs, already expecting the usual scene. And there it is. Boxes upon boxes of presents, stacked by the fireplace, big and small, wrapped in expensive paper.

It’s almost funny how gifts only make the room feel emptier.

But one box stands out. It’s different. Taller than you.Human-sized. You step closer. There’s a note stuck to the front, the handwriting unmistakable.

“I can’t buy you friends. And I wouldn’t even if I could. But your loneliness is just as unbearable for me as it is for you. This is for you. Sorry I can’t be there.

-Benj.”