Office friendships often stay surface-level, but I thought Sarah and I had developed a genuine connection. That’s why her Secret Santa gift – a silver ring with an emerald – meant so much. It showed she paid attention, knew my style. I wore it proudly, a symbol of our pleasant work friendship.
For months, it was just a pretty piece of jewelry. Then one night, while fidgeting absentmindedly, I noticed the emerald wasn’t perfectly smooth. When I investigated, the stone twisted open like a tiny door. My initial amusement at this discovery died instantly when I saw what was hidden inside.
A slip of paper no larger than a fingernail, with two words that made my stomach drop: “Hate you.” The neat pen strokes suggested careful intent, not some hasty scribble. I spent hours that night mentally reviewing every interaction with Sarah, searching for signs I’d missed. Had our entire friendship been fake? Was this her way of getting revenge for some slight I didn’t remember?
The ring lives in my nightstand now. Sometimes I take it out just to marvel at the craftsmanship – how something so small could hold such a big secret. I still work with Sarah every day, still exchange pleasantries. But now I watch her hands when she talks, wondering if she’s wearing any rings with secrets of her own.
