At that mont, Clinton burst into laughter, loud enough to echo across the room. He slapped his thigh and leaned back as if he had just heard the funniest joke of the year. He pointed a mocking finger at the opened box and said with a smirk on his face, "What the hell is this? Is that a mini wine bottle? Seriously?"
Everyone turned their eyes toward the gift Oliver had just revealed.
Clinton leaned in a little closer, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait—don't tell this is the big surprise you were talking about?" he said while still laughing. "A tiny drink bottle? This is too good. What is inside that bottle, soda?" He looked at his father, who by now was already chuckling beside him.
Uncle Festus, wiping a tear from his eye as he joined the laughter, shook his head in disbelief. "Ah! Oliver, Oliver… Are you for real? My brother has rejected expensive bottles of branded drinks—full bottles of expensive, not toys like this." His voice was filled with mockery, and it was clear he was enjoying every second of it.
He squinted at the bottle and said, "Look at it! No label, no na, nothing special. Just a tiny round sticker with what? 'H' written on it?" He laughed again, this ti louder than before. "What kind of embarrassnt is this?" he said, looking around the room like he was hoping soone else would step in to laugh too.
The room was filled with awkward tension. Clinton leaned back again, chuckling under his breath. "Just imagine. This boy is trying to impress my uncle, a man who owns over a dozen private wine cellars around the world, and he brings this… this little mystery drink?" He scoffed. "What next? A candy stick for dessert?"
Cora's heart sank. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes stared at the floor. She knew this mont was coming, and yet seeing it unfold still made her feel helpless. She had warned Oliver, begged him not to try this. And now, her worst fear was happening right in front of everyone.
Uncle Festus almost picked up the bottle with two fingers like it was sothing fragile and worthless at the sa ti but he stopped. "This doesn't even look like it was bought in a store," he said, shaking his head slowly. "It looks like sothing a child makes for show and tell."
He looked at Oliver, laughing again as he added, "You should've just co with an empty hand, my boy. That would've been better than this insult you're calling a gift."
Clinton nodded in agreent. "Exactly! Because this right here? It's just sha in a box."
At that mont, without wasting another second, Cora turned her head quickly toward Oliver. Her eyes were wide and searching, filled with a mix of panic and disbelief. She was desperately trying to study his face looking for any signs that maybe, just maybe, he realized what kind of mistake he had just made. Was he beginning to regret it? Was he ashad? Embarrassed? Did he at least look like soone who understood that this wasn't going well?
But to her surprise a deep, sinking surprise Oliver didn't seem fazed at all.
He stood there calmly, unmoved, as if nothing was wrong. His expression was neutral, relaxed even. He wasn't frowning. He wasn't shifting nervously. He didn't even twitch. No part of his body showed the kind of discomfort she expected. There wasn't a single flicker of regret or second-guessing in his face. He wasn't even angry and most especially, he wasn't ashad.
And that was what scared her the most.
Then Cora's stomach twisted in anxiety. Her hands were suddenly clammy, and a cold draft seed to pass through her spine. She was deeply worried now. She knew this gift was not it. This strange little bottle this weird drink that didn't even have a proper label it was a disaster in her eyes. A complete disaster. It wasn't sothing that would impress her father. It wasn't sothing he would even acknowledge.
If anything, it had just spoiled everything.
Her father was not a man who tolerated carelessness. He had rejected luxury watches, passed on designer perfus, and scoffed at rare wines from Europe. And here was Oliver the man who was supposed to be making a good impression handing him this? A mini bottle of sothing that looked like it was bought off the roadside or picked from a cheap souvenir shelf?
No. This can't be happening, Cora thought. He's ruined it. He's just ruined everything.
Acting on pure instinct, she quickly stepped forward, trying to close the distance between her and Oliver. Her brain was racing, desperately searching for sothing to say. Maybe she could laugh it off. Maybe she could pretend it was a joke. Maybe she could claim it was symbolic, or say Oliver had mistakenly picked up the wrong box. Anything. She just needed to save this mont before it turned into sothing they could never recover from.
She parted her lips, ready to speak, ready to divert the attention—But before she could utter a single word…
That was when her father, who had been standing quietly and observing everything, suddenly spoke.
His voice was low but clear. Calm, yet it echoed across the room.
"Wow," he said.
Imdiately Cora froze.
Everyone else turned to look at him.
Her father leaned slightly forward in his position, eyes still fixed on the bottle in Oliver's hand. There was sothing unreadable in his gaze — not anger, not disappointnt, but sothing... curious.
"Wow," he repeated again, more slowly this ti, the tone of his voice changing slightly, as if he had just co across sothing unexpected. Sothing he hadn't prepared for. Sothing he recognized.
"So you're telling ," he continued, still staring directly at Oliver now, "that you were able to get this for ?"
At that mont, upon hearing what her father just said, Cora froze. Her lips slightly parted as her eyes blinked in confusion. Did she hear that right?
Her father the sa man who had rejected countless gifts from wealthy clients, politicians, and even family mbers was now standing there, wide-eyed and visibly impressed… over what? That half bottle?
Cora's heart raced as her gaze darted back to the object on the table. It was still the sa small, odd-shaped bottle with no recognizable label, only a weird circle and sothing like "H" scribbled in barely noticeable ink. That couldn't be it, right?
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