Bought for him

The birthday gift

The black Maybach pulled into the Hale estate at 12:07 AM.

Chris Smith Hale sat in the passenger seat, his face cold as ice. Zack, his best friend, wouldn't stop complaining.

"Bro, I'm still not over it," Zack said, scrolling through his phone in the backseat. "Your dad gave the entire staff bonuses, bought your cousins new cars, and didn't get YOU anything for your birthday? That's cold, even for Isaac Hale."

Chris stared out the window. "I told him I didn't want the usual."

"So what? Cars, yachts, jets — that's your usual. What else is there?"

"I told him I wanted something new this year," Chris said quietly. "Something I've never had before. Something different."

Zack scoffed. "Different doesn't mean nothing. He should have still—"

He stopped when the gates of the Hale mansion opened.

The mansion was dark. Too dark for a birthday night.

Chris and Zack entered together. Zack had his own wing in the house — best friends since childhood.

The living room was pitch black.

Then — CLICK.

The lights switched on.

Isaac Hale was sitting on the large leather couch. In a suit, despite it being past midnight. And beside him was a huge gift box, wrapped in red silk ribbon. Almost as tall as a person.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON!" Isaac Hale screamed with a wide smile.

Chris didn't smile. He didn't react. The longest sentence he had ever said to his father in his life was six words.

Isaac stood up, excited like a child.

"I listened," he said proudly. "You said you wanted something different this year. Not a car. Not a jet. Not an island. So I got you something you cannot buy in any store in this world."

He patted the big box. "Open it."

Chris walked slowly towards it. Zack followed, curious.

Chris pulled the red ribbon.

He opened the box.

And froze.

Inside, curled up, unconscious, her red hair scattered over her face, her waitress uniform slightly torn at the sleeve, was Channelle.

The waitress from Rose Café.

Zack's mouth dropped open. "No way... No f*****g way... Chris..."

It was HER. The girl Chris had been secretly in love with for five years. The same waitress he watched every morning when he went to get his black coffee. The girl he never had the courage to speak to. The girl who didn't even know his name.

Isaac Hale watched his son's reaction proudly. "Do you like it? Do you like your gift?"

Channelle didn't move. She was breathing, but deeply unconscious.

Chris's hands were shaking. His cold mask finally cracked.

"Dad... what did you do?"

"I got you what you wanted," Isaac said simply. "You wanted something new. Something you've never had. I remembered — you've been staring at this little waitress for five years. So I bought her for you."

He turned to Zack. "Help him take his gift to his room. Be careful with her."

Zack and Chris lifted her out of the box. She was light, limp in their arms. Her red hair fell over Chris's arm as they carried her upstairs to Chris's bedroom, while Isaac Hale followed behind, clapping his hands.

"Congratulations on your new gift, son!"

Then Isaac left for his own room, locking the door behind him, leaving Chris and Zack alone in the bedroom with the unconscious waitress lying on Chris's bed.

The door clicked shut.

Zack finally exploded in a whisper: "Chris... holy shit... that is Channelle! Your waitress Channelle! Your dad just... he just wrapped up your crush and gave her to you for your birthday!"

Chris stared at her. His birthday gift was breathing on his bed, in his shirt, in his house.

Channelle's fingers twitched.

She is waking up.