The Gift That Was Passed On

“I sent a huge box of gifts to my crush. The next day, I saw his unboxing video. It had ten thousand likes. My heart swelled with anticipation. But then I realized… he was opening a gift from the freshman girl he was mentoring. My smile froze. The message I was about to send—“Just sent a little something your way, the main event is coming later!”—was still sitting in my drafts. Just then, my crush’s roommate sent me a private message. “Hey, Mike gave me the jacket you sent him. Are you sure it’s okay for me to keep it?”

1 Tears welled in my eyes, but I still clung to a sliver of hope. “Did he hate it that much?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. God, I sounded pathetic. He was Mike’s roommate; he had no obligation to spare my feelings. But to my surprise, this guy, who was usually so quiet, sent me a file. “I recorded this for him.” So, there was an unboxing video for my gifts after all. Holding onto that last shred of fantasy, I opened the video. And then, I fell into a long, heavy silence.

2 I had packed six different gifts into that one box. Mike, who seemed to be in a hurry, tore open the package and immediately tossed aside the top layer of international chocolates I had spent ages collecting. Even the box of Meltykiss I’d mentioned during our flirty chat a few days ago tumbled out, landing next to the trash can. If he’d only opened it, he would have found an Apple Watch inside. I’d even carefully swapped the band for one in his favorite shade of blue. My heart twisted. Suddenly, a calm, cool voice cut through the video, like a detached narrator. “This girl is a real romantic. Chocolates from different countries. I’m guessing she picked one for each month since you two met.” If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought Julian was a plant I’d hired. A tiny warmth bloomed in my chest. But in the next second, Mike’s voice, light and dismissive, snuffed it out. “Who hasn’t had chocolate before? All flash, no substance. Just trying to impress herself.” I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing.

3 But Mike was never the most observant guy. It was probably normal for him to miss the little surprises. …Maybe it would get better as he kept unwrapping. I swallowed my disappointment and forced myself to keep watching. I had personally wrapped each gift in gilded, pearlescent paper and hand-drawn little cartoon versions of him with different expressions on them. I even spritzed them with the sweet perfume he’d complimented the first time we met. Mike, of course, didn’t react at all. The video went awkwardly silent for a moment. Julian, noticing the pause, casually remarked, “That’s kinda cute.” Mike immediately shot back, “It’s childish.” But I could hear the smugness in his voice. For a guy as popular as him, he was used to girls fawning over him. The gestures just got more and more elaborate. At first, Mike had been patient, carefully unwrapping the first gift. When he saw it was a set of men’s skincare products, he huffed. “What, does she think I’m some kind of pretty boy?” he muttered. Julian’s voice, flat and almost robotic, chimed in. “That brand… she probably had to get it from a duty-free shop at the airport. It’s always sold out here.” Mike ignored him, his annoyance palpable. He started tearing through the other gifts like a brute, ripping the wrapping paper to shreds. My little cartoons were torn to pieces. Even Julian seemed to wince, telling him to take it easy. Mike paid him no mind. He shook out a piece of clothing, glanced at the logo, and let out a heavy sigh. He was about to toss it aside when another hand, elegant and long-fingered, caught it. The person tried to fold it with one hand. “It’s a niche designer,” he said in a low voice. “Everything’s handmade to order.” Mike seemed to shoot him a look, then chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re the trust fund kid who got cut off. You know all about this stuff. But normal people can’t recognize it. There’s no status in wearing it. Why not just get something with a big, recognizable logo? I don’t get what she’s trying to prove.” His words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, leaving me cold and humiliated. No matter what I sent, he found something to criticize. I was about to close the video. But then, he pulled out an envelope. He knew it was a handwritten letter from me. I’d told him I had something important to say in it. If he just read it, he’d know the iPhone 17 he really wanted was on its way. But Mike just ignored it. Julian asked him why he wasn’t reading it. He made a noise of disgust. “It’s probably just a bunch of sappy nonsense. Not interested.” The video ended there.

4 My heart went completely cold. It was also an unboxing. But the short video I’d just scrolled past was completely different. The caption was playful: “A thank-you from my newest mentee, already accepted into the program ^^” It was obvious Mike had edited it with care. He’d used at least five different background tracks, and there wasn’t a single dull moment. The freshman, Chloe, had also sent a lot of snacks. She’d even printed out their chat history and bound it into a little book. He didn’t call that “all flash, no substance.” Instead, he unwrapped everything patiently, showing each item to the camera. He treated gifts similar to mine as if they were treasures. Then, buried among the smaller items, he pulled out an Arc’teryx jacket. He put it on immediately. A different roommate was filming this time. “Dude, that looks awesome! So much better taste than that girl who’s always chasing you,” he exclaimed. I knew instantly he was talking about me. Mike didn’t deny it. He just let out a quiet, knowing laugh. History repeats itself, I guess. At the end of the video, there was another handwritten letter. Mike, now clad in the new jacket, opened it on the spot and read it with tears streaming down his face. I almost applauded. What an actor. A real performer. Except… unless I was mistaken, that Arc’teryx jacket looked exactly like the one I’d just listed on an online marketplace a few days ago. The one my cousin had gotten tired of wearing.

5 Just then, a message from Mike popped up on my phone. “I think you sent me another package?” “What did you buy this time?” Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder. I immediately contacted the shipping company to intercept the package. I didn’t bother replying to him. Instead, I opened my chat with Julian. “Go ahead and wear it,” I wrote. “Do you like blue? Or should I help you exchange it for a different color?” The “typing” bubble appeared and disappeared for a while. Finally, a message came through. “Are you okay?” I wanted to laugh. “I’m fine.” “By the way, that unboxing video… Mike told you to send it to me, didn’t he?” “And right after you sent it, he gave you the jacket?” The other end went silent.

6 Just as I thought. Mike’s intentions were painfully obvious. He filmed that critical unboxing video to show me how displeased he was with my gifts, hoping I’d take the hint and send him something else—like the new iPhone he’d mentioned a dozen times. Chloe was different. She’d saved up her living expenses for months to buy him that gift. Of course, he had different standards for us. While my mind was wandering, a new message from Julian arrived. “I’m sorry. To be honest, I really do like the jacket.” “But I only sent you the video because I thought it was the right thing to do. Mike’s motive was probably what you guessed. But my reason for sending it was to show you… he’s not worth it.” I paused. He’d better not be playing some kind of double agent game with me. As I was trying to figure out how to reply, a few more messages came in. “What do you even like about Mike?” “His face?” “You know, we actually look a bit alike.” What? What was that supposed to mean? Was everyone in that dorm room trying to score something?

7 But he was right. The first time I saw Mike, I was visiting the campus of my dream grad school before applications were due. Some upperclassmen were trying to recruit me for a club, and I was explaining I wasn’t a student there. Then I looked up and saw him. And I completely forgot how to say no. He looked so much like him. …He looked so much like that person. From the shape of his eyes to the line of his jaw, it was an aristocratically handsome face. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked cool and distant. But Mike smiled a lot. The moment our eyes met, his crinkled into a gentle, warm curve. The moles at the corner of his eye and on the tip of his nose made my head spin. How could nature’s two most perfect finishing touches appear on two different people? He stared right at me. By the time I snapped out of it, my face was burning hot all the way to my ears. It felt like a part of my heart, long dormant and dry, had sprung back to life that day. All I could think was: I have to have him.

8 I got to know Mike gradually after discovering he was a first-year grad student in the very program I was applying to. I’d ask him questions about the coursework, just as an excuse to talk to him more. Once, Mike had to go out of town for a project and told me his replies would be sporadic. He suggested I add his roommate, Julian. He said he’d already given Julian a heads-up, and that his roommate would help me with any questions in the meantime. I was ecstatic. Getting into his inner circle felt like a huge step toward getting into his life. That’s when Julian and I first connected. I even entertained the idea of turning him into my inside man, my wingman. But I quickly realized he had a very serious, almost cold personality. After a while, I barely even asked him academic questions anymore. It was just a pretext, after all. Did I really need the help? Not really. But Julian was still incredibly responsible. He even took the initiative to send me his organized notes. “Study hard,” he wrote. And then, Mike came back. My chat window with Julian went dark.

9 I never thought the same straight-laced guy who told me to “study hard” six months ago would now be sending me vague, suggestive messages like, “You know, we look a bit alike.” It was absurd. But I didn’t want to lump Julian in with the typical conceited guys. So I sent a dismissive reply: “Oh really? Send a pic, let’s see the evidence.” He went silent. I shook my head, knowing I’d called his bluff. But five minutes later, a photo actually appeared. “Sorry, just took this on my way out of the library.” He really sent one. Curiosity piqued, I tapped on the image. Even the thumbnail felt… off, in a subtle way. When I opened the full-sized picture, it became crystal clear. My breath hitched. My phone slipped from my grasp and smacked me right in the face. “