Gift Of Memories Novels & Stories

There were gifts for us under the tree. Not filler stuff. Not last-minute. Thoughtful. Ofelia opened hers first: a first-edition, carefully preserved copy of The Psychology of Health and Happiness by La Forest Potter from 1897. Inside was a note, handwritten in my mom’s cursive: For someone who clearly takes her craft seriously. Ofelia blinked once. Said thank you, gently, but I could see the way her fingers hovered on the inscription. My own box was small but heavy, a pair of silver cufflinks engraved with the Maltese cross and my initials. I stared for a second before lifting my head to meet my dad’s gaze. He gave a small nod. Nothing dramatic. Just a solid kind of understanding.

A delivery every hour, it seemed. Gift number eight: a first edition of a classic fashion photography book. Gift number nine: a beautiful silk scarf in shades of blue and silver. Gift number ten: 28 letter expressing how he felt the first day he met me. Gift number eleven: A magazine about me with pictures. Gift number twelve: a gourmet chocolate assortment. Gift number thirteen: a subscription to a prestigious international fashion magazine. Gift number fourteen: a delicate silver bracelet. Each gift was clearly expensive, and felt incredibly personal.

His gaze felt like an X‑ray, as if he wanted to look straight through me. I did not look away. I met his gaze with a numb calm. After a long silence, he smiled and pulled his hand back. He tossed the burn ointment onto the nightstand. “Fine. Go. But you must return on February sixteenth. It is my birthday. I want you to give yourself to me as a gift.” He leaned close to my ear, and his teeth brushed my earlobe. “You need to be clean and fresh.” I pushed down the nausea in my stomach and nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re a good woman, Evelyn.” “Any man would want you, but I’m not that man anymore.” I know eight years is a very long time, and I’ve wasted your time. I know this will be very hard for you, but you have to accept it. You deserve better." He slid the paper across the tablecloth. It moved with a terrifying finality, stopping just inches from my water glass. "Here," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth that had greeted me when I came in. "This is a cheque of ten thousand dollars. Use it to start a new life for yourself."

Three years, and Gavin was still the same arrogant, self-obsessed jerk. I didn't say a word. He had no clue I was here to take his company. Right after he swaggered inside, a janitor jogged over and grabbed the bag from me. "Sorry, Ms. Valencia—I didn't mean to be late." She'd asked me to bring bottles for some summit promo—trade enough, win a limited-edition rocket for her grandson. When she saw the haul, her face lit up. "Thank you! You just made his dream come true."

"My wedding's pretty much set. But you're not getting any younger, and there's still no ring on your finger. I don't want you spending the rest of your life alone." Her eyes lit up suddenly, and she clapped her hands together. "How about this? I'll introduce you to someone!" "No, thanks," I said flatly. Her eyes filled with fake tears instantly. She turned to our parents, whining as if she'd been wronged. "Even though Mr. Strickland and I have done the deed, I hope we'll organize a grand wedding, so people won't look down on me. "I found Aurora a match. The guy's willing to give us 200 thousand dollars as a wedding gift!"

"I'm Gwendolyn Falsimmo, and my gift is a pair of pearls. Happy birthday, Mr. Norwood." "I'm Sinistra Clancy, from Silverton's Ivy Commerce. My gift is a McLaren. Happy birthday, Mr. Norwood." "I'm Mirabel Constance, and my gift is an ancient recipe. Happy birthday, Mr. Norwood." … The gifts quickly turned into a sizable pile.

Maybe I never could. Bad memories never really disappear. They only stay buried, waiting to resurface without warning. “Yes, I know…” he said with a quiet laugh. “But I wanted to give you something anyway. It is never too late, right?” “Thank you,” I said, nodding. I carefully unwrapped the gift and found a small velvet box—black, of course. When I opened it, I almost could not believe what I saw. Inside was a necklace with a pendant shaped like a flower. Simple, but beautifully elegant.

“Next time you pick a gift, make sure it’s something that helps the other person remember you.” There was a silence, gentle but deep. The waves whispered. Junior leaned close to inspect the shell. After a while, he beamed. “I get it now,” he said, voice brittle. “Mr. Hunt must have so many perfect gifts in his life… he’s probably lost count of who gave what.” He turned to Nevena, eyes bright. “But one imperfect gift in his collection—will leave a lasting memory of us. Right?” Nevena blinked, caught off guard by the strange wisdom in his logic.

I had always loved surprises but never received one. Receiving a surprise gift from Dane was surreal for me. I was relieved that I don't have to beg for laptops anymore neither would I be insulted for not having one. Could he give me anything sweeter? I was so much aggravated by him earlier but it was as though I had been calmed. Is it because of the gift? Probably yes but not only because of it. For me most important thing is that he remembered to get me one irrespective of his busy schedule. I would have forgotten if I were in his position. Giving me a gift implies only thing that I'm in his mind just as he was in mine.