“It’s almost midnight. I wanted to give you your gift before the clock strikes twelve.”
Just then, the teasing voices of Shindy’s friends echoed through the room.
“Well, well, isn’t this Mr. Reinn?” one sneered. “Better to see once than hear a hundred times—what a cute little white rabbit.”
Shindy’s expression darkened immediately. Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a wine glass from the table and hurled it at the offender.
“Shut your mouth! If you dare to scare him, I swear I won’t let you off!”
The chill radiating from her was palpable, freezing the atmosphere in the private room. Silence fell as everyone registered the fury in her eyes. Her reaction caught me off guard. I stood there, momentarily dazed. Her friends had merely teased Reinn and she flew into a rage, as though he’d suffered a grave injustice.
Yet just moments ago, when those same friends had said far worse things to me, she had merely laughed and scolded them half-heartedly. I lowered my head, a bitter smile curling my lips. The heavy atmosphere lingered, so I picked up two wine glasses and walked over to Reinn, offering him one.
“Mr. Xylo, nice to meet you. I’m Samuel Hund.”
Before Reinn could respond, Shindy swiftly took the glass from my hand and downed it in one go.
“He has a sensitive stomach and doesn’t drink,” she said. “I’ll drink for him.”
In the three years I’d been with Shindy, I’d lost count of how many times I’d drunk for her at gatherings like this. But now, before Reinn could even protest, she had already stepped in to protect him. I opened my mouth to speak, but my gaze caught on something—the pendant around Reinn’s neck. It was an old, faded bullet casing.
Noticing my stare, Reinn clutched the necklace tightly, his voice nervous.
“Is something wrong, Samuel?”
Before I could reply, Shindy spoke up hastily. “It’s special,” she said quickly. “I gave it to him last time we met.”
I looked at her closely. There was a flicker of discomfort on her face. After three years by her side, I knew her too well. She wasn’t explaining for Reinn’s sake—she was afraid I’d question him. But she didn’t understand me. I, Samuel, was never the type to cling or pry.
“Now that your male companion is here, I’ll take my leave.” I spoke calmly. “Happy birthday, Shindy.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out of the private room.
When I got home, my phone buzzed.
A notification popped up—someone had tagged me in a short video.
In the clip, Reinn sat surrounded by a mountain of gifts, a large bouquet of Black Knight roses by his side and a birthday hat perched awkwardly on his head. The caption read:
[Those who love you will spoil you like a child. For the first time, I learned that someone who doesn’t celebrate birthdays can still receive so many gifts.]
The video disappeared and a message followed seconds later.
[I’m sorry, Samuel. I tagged the wrong person by mistake. I’m really sorry.]
I smiled faintly and set my phone down without replying. Reinn’s tactics were transparent to me—child’s play. I resumed packing my things, but tears betrayed me, slipping down my face. I didn’t own much—just a few sets of clothes. Nothing else really.
As I packed, a painful realization struck me. In three years with Shindy, she had never given me a single gift. Once, during the height of our love, I’d cradled her in my arms, playfully entwining her fingers with mine.
“It’s always me pleasing you,” I had teased, “always me giving you gifts. I see other girlfriends surprising their boyfriends, but I’ve never gotten anything from you.”
