But before she could find the words or the strength—to speak up, her father’s calm, deliberate voice broke through the tension.
"Well," her father said, his eyes still on Oliver, "it is very nice of you to actually co with a gift." His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cruel either. More like carefully asured. "Like you may have heard already... I don’t usually accept gifts."
He paused, and Cora’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into her palms.
"...Because, truth be told," he continued, "most tis, they’re irrelevant. They rarely et my interests or standards."
At that mont, Cora’s father slowly nodded, his voice calm but firm. "However," he said, his eyes fixed on Oliver, "you coming here for the very first ti, seeing face-to-face for the very first ti, and choosing to bring a gift along it is, I must say, quite comndable." His tone wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. It was the voice of a man who was curious. "Even though I don’t usually accept gifts, because more often than not they are either irrelevant or fail to align with my interests," he added, "I’m still curious. I want to know what kind of gift you brought."
His words sent a small ripple of tension through the room. anyone could hear Clinton’s soft scoff, and then a stifled laugh escaping from Uncle Festus, who didn’t even try to hide his amusent. He was already shaking his head and muttering, "This one... this one is sothing else."
Clinton, emboldened by his father’s amusent, leaned forward slightly and chuckled. "Co on," he said, looking directly at Oliver with a condescending grin. "What’s inside that little wooden box? Let guess. It’s too small to be a wine bottle, too large for a pen... maybe it’s a wristwatch?" He shrugged. "No, can’t be. There’s no way a guy like you could afford the kind of watch my uncle would wear."
He threw a smug look at Oliver, then added with a grin, "Maybe sunglasses? Or perhaps a pair of cufflinks? Wait maybe a keyholder with his initials on it?" Clinton laughed again, this ti nudging his father. "It has to be sothing cheap."
Uncle Festus was now laughing even louder. "Oh, don’t mind us," he said, waving his hand as if to excuse his mockery. "I apologize in advance, but you see...like I said before it’s been ages since my brother accepted a gift from anyone. People try, but they always get it wrong." He leaned forward a bit, his eyes narrowing with amusent. "So you see, your attempt is just... very entertaining. Because my brother is not exactly the easiest man to please. And watching soone try, especially soone this young, is just—" He shook his head and laughed again. "It’s amusing, to say the least. I just can’t help myself."
Cora, standing beside Oliver, clenched her jaw, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her fingers curled into gentle fists at her sides. She looked at her uncle and cousin, then glanced at Oliver. She knew exactly what they were trying to do chip away at his confidence, break him with humiliation before anything serious could even begin. Their laughter wasn’t just at the gift it was at the thought that soone like Oliver dared to enter this house with pride.
Cora’s stomach tightened. She had warned him. She had begged him to keep the gift idea to himself. Her father was picky, unforgiving when it ca to such things. If Oliver’s gift fell short in any way and it probably would it wouldn’t just be rejected. It would be used as ammunition against him, against them.
Again her eyes flicked down toward the small wooden box in Oliver’s hand. Her heart beat fast. In a mont of panic, she leaned in just slightly, gently nudging Oliver’s back with her finger. It wasn’t obvious, but it was firm enough—’a silent plea: Don’t do it. Please stop. Just say sorry and let it go. Let’s leave in peace.’
But Oliver didn’t even flinch. He didn’t look back at her, didn’t respond to the signal she just gave. Instead, he remained perfectly still, calm and collected, with a small smile on his face. Then, slowly, he looked up at Cora’s father and said with quiet confidence:
"I believe, sir, that you’ll definitely love this gift."
Then Oliver continue.
"After so many good words Cora said about you, after so many discussions, so many things that Cora actually, all the hints she kept dropping, all the warnings, and even the advice she gave ... that was when I actually picked out what you would like, yes. i actually took my ti."
He didn’t make a hasty decision. He didn’t rush to the market or pick sothing off the shelf carelessly. No. He thought hard. He took it seriously. And after careful thinking, after asuring everything Cora had told him about how difficult, particular, and picky her father was he still made his choice.
Because deep down, he believed. He believed that no matter how high the expectations were, there had to be sothing just sothing that could reach the man’s heart.
Oliver continued with a calm but confident smile.
"I knew this gift might look small, but it’s ordinary. this box doesn’t contain sothing expensive just to impress. It contained sothing thoughtful. Sothing with aning. Sothing chosen from the heart, not from the wallet."
Then at that mont, without wasting any more ti, he then open the box.
The room fell even quieter than before. The air grew tight. The tension was visible. Even Cora, who had earlier tried to pinch him to stop to just say sorry and avoid humiliation froze completely. Her eyes widened, and her hand stopped mid-air. It was too late now.
Imdiately Uncle Festus leaned in imdiately, narrowing his eyes like soone trying to understand what he was seeing. The smirk on his face froze for a second. His laughter paused. His brows knit together as he blinked at the object inside the box.
Even Clinton, who had been holding back his own giggles, stop imdiately
And then they said.
"So this is the gift"
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