Today is December 25th. As Christmas morning enveloped the office of Ford Designs, the festive spirit could be felt in the air. Colleagues exchanged brightly wrapped gifts, laughter echoed through the halls, and the scent of freshly baked cookies wafted from someone's desk. Even the typically composed Nathan and focused Max couldn't escape the holiday cheer permeating their workplace.
Nathan, his brows furrowed with a hint of irritation, broke the calm with his grumbling commentary. "Why do all women in the world become so greedy during the Christmas season?" He leaned back in his chair, clearly bothered by something as he released an exasperated puff of air.
Ms. Marie, an astute observer of human behavior, glanced up from her computer desk. Her amused gaze met Nathan's and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Hmm?" she inquired, her lips curling into a knowing smile.
Nathan couldn't contain his vexation as he continued, "What's so great about receiving bags and jewelry that everyone else has?"
Marie, a woman who had experienced her fair share of Christmases, couldn't help but find amusement in Nathan's rant. She leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers behind her head, and joined the conversation. "Because, my dear Nathan," she said in a tone filled with wisdom, "we don't want to feel left out."
Max and Nathan, intrigued by her response, turned their full attention to her. Marie, her eyes twinkling with the insight of age, leaned forward slightly, her gaze drifting to the joyful exchange of gifts around them.
"Look," she began, "birthdays and anniversaries, everyone celebrates them on different days. But Christmas? Christmas is everyone's holiday, no?" She paused, her eyes softening as she recalled the countless Christmases she had experienced. "Perhaps it doesn't matter what we get. Maybe it's not about the price tag or the uniqueness of the gift. What we truly desire is to know that someone, somewhere, was thinking of us. That they took the time to pick out a present especially for us. It's about the emotional connection, the sense of being remembered and cherished."
Max absorbed Marie's words, pondering their deeper meaning. In the midst of the holiday hustle and bustle, her insight struck a chord within him. Perhaps there was more to Christmas than he had previously considered.
The office continued to buzz with cheerful activity, but in that moment, Max found himself reflecting on the profound truth of Marie's words. Christmas, he realized, was not merely a season of material exchange but a celebration of connections, a reminder of the bonds that tied people together.
☘
Amid the backdrop of Christmas Day, Carlo continued his work, diligently delivering wines to various locations. The festive atmosphere that enveloped the city seemed somewhat distant from his daily routine. But, as he rode in the truck beside Evie's father, a small yet significant moment began to reshape his perception of the holiday.
Carlo's curiosity was piqued when he spotted a wrapped gift tucked beneath Evie's father's feet. He couldn't help but inquire, "What is that?"
Evie's father, wearing a knowing smile, replied, "It's my daughter's Christmas present." Carlo couldn't conceal his surprise and admiration at this revelation.
"Every year," Evie's father continued, "she would say, 'This is so lame, I don't want it.'" He chuckled softly before adding, "You must think I'm very silly."
Carlo, however, quickly reassured him, shaking his head. "Of course, I don't think that," he replied sincerely, his smile warm and understanding.
Evie's father went on to share a unique perspective. "I always thought that Christmas and karaoke were similar." Carlo raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Karaoke?" he asked.
Evie's father explained his comparison with a playful grin. "When you're watching someone else singing seriously, don't you think, 'Stupid guy, hurry and finish singing'?" He mimicked the exasperated tone of an annoyed onlooker, eliciting a chuckle from Carlo.
Carlo nodded in agreement. "Sort of..." he replied, considering the analogy.
Evie's father delved deeper into his musings. "But if you want to have fun for once, you can only sing by yourself. No matter how out of tune you get, no matter how shy you get. Christmas is the same." He gestured casually with his fingers towards the steering wheel as he spoke. "As long as you don't give up and continue to give out presents every year, it's extraordinary. Eventually, you will realize, subconsciously, it is Christmas again this year."
Carlo listened intently to Evie's father's words, and a sense of understanding began to blossom within him. It was a realization that Christmas, despite its complexities and challenges, held a unique charm—a time for perseverance, giving, and the subtle beauty of shared traditions. As the city's festive decorations passed by in a blur, Carlo felt a newfound appreciation for the holiday, sparked by this heartwarming conversation.
As the sun began its descent over the Hamadayama shopping street, casting a warm and inviting glow over the bustling scene, a sense of excitement permeated the air. Christmas evening was approaching, and the anticipation was palpable.
Carlo, amidst the holiday fervor, found himself engaged in the familiar task of lifting and arranging heavy trays of wines in Madison's wine shop. Each tray, laden with bottles of exquisite wines, seemed heavier than the last. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he carefully placed a tray under another, the physical exertion evident in his labored breathing.
Just as Carlo was about to begin his next task, Evie's father emerged from the shop, his presence a welcome interruption to the demanding work. He greeted Carlo with a casual "Hey," causing Carlo to momentarily straighten up, surprised by the unexpected visit.
Evie's father continued, his tone friendly and understanding, "You can leave for today." Carlo, still catching his breath and puzzled by the early release, stammered, "Eh? But it's still early."
However, before Carlo could protest further, Evie's father extended a brown envelope towards him, holding it out for him to take. He spoke with genuine gratitude, saying, "Here, thanks for your hard work."
Carlo's eyes widened as he accepted the envelope, his curiosity piqued by the gesture. Slowly, he opened the envelope, revealing its contents—an unexpected sight that left him momentarily speechless. Inside the envelope lay a sum of 5000 dollars in cash.
Carlo lifted his head to meet Evie's father's gaze, his astonishment clear in his eyes. It was difficult for him to believe that he was being not only let off the hook for the mishap with the rare wines but also generously compensated for his efforts. The unspoken gratitude and relief welled up within him.
Yet, Evie's father, seemingly unfazed by his own generosity, encouraged Carlo, saying, "Go have fun with that." His casual demeanor underscored the sincerity of the gesture. Carlo, still processing the unexpected turn of events, stood there momentarily, his heart filled with gratitude.
With a final nudge from Evie's father to make the most of his newfound freedom, Carlo finally nodded in acknowledgment and appreciation. He tucked the envelope carefully into his pocket and, with a smile, turned to leave the shop. It was a Christmas gift that went beyond monetary value, a gesture of goodwill that would stay with Carlo long after the holiday had passed.
As Carlo strolled along the festively adorned Hamadayama shopping street, he couldn't help but soak in the holiday atmosphere that enveloped the area. Every store was bedecked with colorful Christmas decorations, and the bustling crowd was in high spirits as they went about their last-minute shopping for loved ones.
Amidst the merriment, Carlo found himself deep in introspection. He couldn't escape the inner turmoil that seemed to accompany him during the holiday season. His thoughts echoed with questions that weighed heavy on his heart, questions that gnawed at his sense of belonging and happiness.
"I'm bad with Christmas," he mused silently to himself, his brow furrowing. "Every time I see people having fun, my chest hurts. 'Am I happy now?' and 'Do I belong here?' I'm overwhelmed with questions like these."
As Carlo meandered through the shopping street, he happened upon a quaint gift shop that resembled a charming cottage. Its exterior exuded a warm and inviting aura, drawing him in with its cozy ambiance.
Inside, he explored the various sections of the shop, his gaze wandering over an array of carefully selected items that would make perfect presents. It was a treasure trove of possibilities, each gift brimming with the promise of bringing joy to someone's heart.
In the clothing section, his attention was captivated by a pair of white, fluffy gloves made of soft cotton. He delicately picked up the gloves, their texture inviting a gentle caress. As he held them, a wistful thought crossed his mind.
"If I had more courage," he mused quietly, his eyes fixed on the gloves, "I wonder if the world would seem different. Even if I'm tone-deaf, I wonder if Honey will still smile for me."
In the midst of the holiday bustle, Carlo found himself pondering not only the meaning of Christmas but also his place within it, and the possibility of finding the courage to bridge the gap between his own feelings and the joy he saw in others.
☘
Honey stood outside the laboratory door, hesitating to enter. The voices from inside reached her ears, and they were not the usual sounds of a creative and supportive environment. Her brows furrowed, and a sense of unease washed over her.
The voice, stern and disappointed, belonged to none other than Ms. Donna Cortez, the dean of the faculty. Her words were laced with frustration, and the intensity of her tone was unmistakable.
"What do you mean by, 'It won't be ready by the next competition'?! All of the students who've won first place in school exhibitions participate in this competition. Do you plan on degrading our school?!" Ms. Donna's voice echoed through the corridor.
Inside the room, Arthur sat at his desk, his posture suggesting he was the recipient of Ms. Donna's ire. He seemed calm, despite the heated lecture he was receiving.
Honey's confusion and turmoil deepened. She believed herself to be the root of this problem. She thought, "Is this because I can't paint? Because I can't find my inspiration?" She felt like a burden, a disappointment to both Arthur and the school.
Arthur's response, however, struck a chord within her. His voice, calm and collected, cut through the tension in the room. "Is there any meaning in a painting that was painted to meet a deadline? Even though you want to paint, you can't. Honeylyn is fighting against those kinds of feelings right now."
Ms. Donna's frustration remained palpable. She interjected sharply, "Please stop spoiling her!" Her hand slammed onto Arthur's desk, emphasizing her point.
But Arthur remained steadfast. "I'm not spoiling her or anything," he replied evenly. "However, I can't help her either. The barrier within yourself... can be only overcome alone."
Honey, listening to their conversation from outside, felt a sudden rush of emotions. She realized that Arthur wasn't coddling her but rather recognizing the internal struggle she was facing. With newfound determination, she turned and quietly left the scene.
Heading up to the rooftop, she sought solace and clarity. As she gazed at the setting sun, its warm hues painting the sky, Honey found a renewed sense of purpose. The turmoil within her began to settle, replaced by a quiet resolve.
☘
The evening had cast its enchanting spell over the city, as the streets glistened with the glow of Christmas lights. Couples strolled hand in hand, children gleefully clutched their newly acquired gifts, and the festive cheer danced in the air, infusing warmth into the chilly winter night. Yet amidst this jubilant scene, Carlo walked with a sense of trepidation, clutching a carefully wrapped pink package, his heart throbbing in his chest.
Inside the university's hallowed halls, Carlo sought solace within the confines of Honey's painting room, the gift hidden discreetly behind his back. As he stepped into the room, his eyes darted around in a futile search for Honey, realizing that she wasn't present. His gift, shrouded in uncertainty, weighed heavy in his trembling hands.
A gentle voice, like a soft melody, broke the silence. "Carlo?" Honey's voice, sweet and tender, rang through the room, making Carlo's heart race.
Startled, he pivoted to find Honey, adorned in a white dress adorned with delicate flowers, her presence filling the room with an ethereal grace. In his nervousness, he hastily concealed the gift.
"What's wrong?" Honey inquired, her eyes curious and inviting. Carlo stammered, struggling to find his words. "It's nothing," he managed to utter, his voice betraying the turmoil within.
Honey bestowed upon him a radiant smile, her warmth like a comforting embrace. "If you're looking for Arthur, I think he's on the campus," she offered, as she gracefully moved past him.
Carlo, crestfallen by his inability to present his gift, inquired with a hint of hope, "Is that so?" His expression grew heavy as he watched Honey wrap herself in a white scarf, her beauty and grace leaving him spellbound.
"Are you going somewhere?" Carlo ventured, his nerves evident in his trembling voice. Honey nodded gently in response, her intentions leaving him further entangled in his own hesitation.
"I see," Carlo murmured, but the words caught in his throat, and his courage waned as Honey walked towards the door. His anxiety and self-doubt held him captive, rendering him unable to voice his feelings.
As Honey reached for the door, Carlo's courage surged, and he made a desperate attempt to speak. The moment hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of his unspoken emotions. But alas, he found himself unable to utter a single word.
Honey paused, her eyes filled with understanding and patience, waiting for him to find his voice. Yet, Carlo's vocal cords remained frozen, betraying his overwhelming apprehension. In that suspended moment, Honey's soft voice cut through the tension. "I hope you have a nice Christmas," she wished him sincerely.
Carlo mustered a forced smile, his heart aching with the words left unsaid. "Yeah. You too, Honey," he replied, concealing his turmoil beneath a facade.
As Honey exited the room, Carlo was left standing there, an overwhelming sense of regret and longing swirling within him, his unspoken emotions lingering in the air like a fading echo. He slumped into a chair, his gaze fixed upon the gift he never had the chance to give.
His heartache was palpable as he thought, "The reason why I hated Christmas wasn't because of the shining lights, nor was it because of the continuous Christmas songs. I couldn't say, 'I like you' to the person I like."
Carlo walked aimlessly down the lively street, enveloped by the radiant Christmas lights that adorned the buildings and streets, casting a warm and inviting glow. The cold breeze nipped at his skin, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Thoughts swirled in his mind, tangled with a web of complex emotions.
As he traversed the festive avenue, a profound sense of regret welled up within him. He couldn't help but reflect, "It's funny I couldn't even hand her the present I got for her." A heavy weight of sorrow pressed upon his chest, mingling with frustration. His inability to face his own insecurities had caused him to repeatedly deny his love for Christmas, as if running away from his own vulnerability.
His steps faltered as he stumbled upon a colossal and brilliantly adorned Christmas tree. Its resplendent ornaments and shimmering lights formed a mesmerizing spectacle. Carlo gazed at it, his heart heavy with the realization that he had allowed his fear to rob him of the magic of Christmas. Deep in thought, he mused, "That's right. The one who was more aware of Christmas than anyone else was me."