"Mm." His tone leveled out, taking on that familiar, condescending edge. "Tessa, stop sending me this kind of stuff. I won't have many chances to wear sneakers once my internship starts. If you really want to give me something, make it practical."
"For example?"
"A luxury watch. Or the newest iPhone. Things that match my status. I need to look presentable when I meet clients."
My grip tightened on the phone until the plastic creaked.
Status?
He was a graduate student who hadn't even earned his degree yet, and he was lecturing me about status?
No wonder he'd called the limited-edition Air Jordans "childish." This was what he'd been waiting for all along.
I suddenly recalled his reaction three days ago. When I sent him the screenshot of the order confirmation, he'd only replied with a lackluster "oh."
At the time, I assumed he was busy.
Now I realized the truth: he was just disappointed he couldn't flip them for a high enough profit.
"You're right," I said slowly, forcing my voice steady. "You are about to enter the workforce. You need decent gear to look the part."
Aiden perked up immediately. "Exactly! I knew you'd understand. Actually, I've been eyeing a Longines. It's a little over a thousand. If you—"
I cut him off.
"That's why I stuffed a watch in the shoebox. A classic Patek Philippe. Didn't you see it?"
Dead silence.
The only sound was his breathing—rapid and shallow.
Then his voice cracked, pitching high with panic. "What?"
"A Patek Philippe," I said, keeping my tone innocent. "Hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in black velvet. You didn't open it? I put a handwritten letter in there too."
"I—" He stammered, the arrogance gone. "You put a watch... inside the shoebox?"
"Yeah." I let out a soft sigh. "If I'd known you didn't like the shoes, I would've just given you the watch. It was so expensive... my heart actually hurt when I swiped my card."
A dull thud echoed through the line—a fist slamming against a table.
Then a woman's low, whining voice drifted through. "What are you doing? Why are you losing your temper all of a sudden?"
Aiden lowered his voice, but the urgency was unmistakable. "You were the one who wanted that designer bag! That's why I rushed to sell the shoes! Now look what happened—we lost a fortune!"
The girl scoffed. "I told you those shoes were limited edition. If you held onto them, the price would go up. You were the one who insisted on selling immediately."
"If I didn't sell them now, how would I get money in time for your birthday?!"
I pretended I hadn't heard their frantic whispers and injected concern into my voice.
"Aiden? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"It's nothing." His voice was dry, strangled. "Tessa, what you just said... exactly how much is that watch worth?"
"Over fifty thousand, I think," I said lightly. "I originally planned to trade in my car for a new one, but then I thought about you. When you start interviewing, you need a good watch to command respect. So I bought it."
"Fifty... thousand?" His voice began to tremble. "Where did you get that kind of money?"
"My year-end bonus." I let myself sound slightly aggrieved. "My project did really well this year. Sixty thousand. I used almost all of it for your watch."
"You—" He gasped. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"
"I wanted it to be a surprise." I paused, then let my voice spike with manufactured panic. "Why are you asking like this? Aiden... is the watch gone?"
"I... I might have just missed it..." He was speaking incoherently now. "I haven't looked through the shoebox carefully..."
"Hurry and look for it!" I urged. "That's a classic model. Even secondhand, it resells for thirty or forty thousand! If it's lost, I'll literally die!"
I sent him the photo of the Patek Philippe along with a picture of the boutique receipt—images I'd prepared beforehand.
"Look, this model really suits you. It looks a bit mature, but you can wear it for decades."
Aiden didn't respond.
I could only hear his heavy, labored breathing, and in the background, the soft, frantic voice of the other girl trying to comfort him.
