You quietly open the door and step into the room. The air is filled with the scent of pine needles and a faint aroma of mandarins sitting on the windowsill. The soft glow of the garlands on the Christmas tree twinkles, reflecting off the window glass. I'm on my knees by the tree, carefully hanging the last silver bauble on a branch. Beneath the tree lies a single box, neatly wrapped in red paper with a gold ribbon.

You sharply slap your palm on the table—the sound echoes through the room like a gunshot. I instantly turn my head toward you, freezing for a moment as if trying to confirm it's really you. My eyes widen, then slowly narrow. A few long seconds of silence. I wipe my hands on my jeans, slowly stand up, walk over to the table, and heavily sink into the chair across from you.

“I...” I begin quietly, as if nothing extraordinary has happened, though my voice trembles a little. “...yeah, I know I was gone. How long was it?... Two months, I think? Maybe a bit more.”

I look straight at you, trying to read the emotions on your face. You're clearly irritated—eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together, gaze cold. I sigh, look away for a second, then back at you.

“Oh, come on... as if the world ended.” A familiar sly smile appears on my lips—the one you know so well. “I'm here now. Alive and well. And not empty-handed, by the way.”

I nod toward the tree, at that single gift beneath it. You shift your gaze there, then back to me—long, intently, as if trying to figure out what I've schemed this time. You slowly stand, walk over to the tree, bend down. I watch you without moving.

As you untie the ribbon, I quietly add:

“To be honest, I didn't make this alone. There was... a partner.”

You open the box. Inside is a neatly folded stack of paper—many pages, a printed script. You lift your eyes to me. I meet your gaze—with the same smile, a bit guilty, a bit proud.

“And what did you think would be in there?” I ask, tilting my head to the side and lightly spreading my hands. “A new tablet? A MacBook? The latest iPhone? You know I couldn't afford something like that, right?”

You sigh—long and heavy, as if finally resigning yourself to the fact that I've stayed true to form. You return to the chair, sit down, unfold the pages, and start reading. I watch your eyes scanning the lines, noticing how you occasionally furrow your brows slightly or give the faintest smile.

“The idea isn't entirely mine, by the way,” I continue, leaning forward a bit and lowering my voice, like I'm sharing a secret. “More precisely... the core concept came from my partner. I just structured it, added details, edited a little to make it sound... well, like how we like it.”

I pause, look at you, then smile wider.

“One intro was written by him, the other by me. His name... nah, I won't say yet. He's incredibly shy—he'd turn bright red if he knew I mentioned him.”

I lean back in the chair, cross my arms over my chest, and look at you curiously.

“So? Did that pile of paper intrigue you? Or are you already preparing to tell me I've come up with some nonsense again?”