One year back, as part of our office Secret Santa exchange, Sarah gave me a cute and thoughtfully packaged present. At the center of the ring was a lovely silver setting with a small emerald gem. I felt truly touched. A ring was more than a regular gift; it seemed personally and meaningfully chosen. Over the years, Sarah and I had built a good relationship—laughing easily, collaborating at work and having a common interest in not liking morning meetings.
I would put the ring on whenever I could. Soon I realized it was one of those accessories that felt perfectly natural to have on since it matched my wardrobe so well. The idea never came up as to why Sarah was on the path she was or if there was something else about her decision. At least, until recently.
Once, while staying home alone, I played with my ring and my thumb noticed something odd. A very small groove that was barely visible encircled the emerald. Curiosity started to take hold and so I gently twirled it. I was surprised to find the gem rotate and expose a concealed compartment. Was this part of the Secret Santa scavenger hunt and I’d missed it?
In the small envelope was a folded note the size of a fingernail. I slowly removed it, unraveled it and stopped when I read the plain words scrawled in tiny, sharp handwriting: “Hate you.”
I froze.
The air got stiller and I could still sense the words echoing in me. Was this just a terrible joke on us? A mistake? Was Sarah trying to tell me something—a hidden criticism hidden under a whole year of casual talk?
All our experiences played back to me as if I was in a movie theater. Sarah always appears friendly every time we meet. She enjoyed my jokes, complimented what I wrote and bought me my favorite cookies after I mentioned them. I made no sense of this at all.
Considering it further made me feel more uncomfortable. It was cruel if this was an insensitive joke. If that was true, what was my mistake? The thought of Sarah selecting the ring, putting those words in it and storing them in a secret corner, with the hope I would find them later, didn’t leave my mind. It felt like my stomach was turning over with that thought.
I put myself in a dilemma about confrontation. Can I just go to her desk and ask for a clarification? Should I pretend I never saw the note and keep going as though nothing had happened? It seemed like the easier thing to do, but the words kept bothering me. I still look at the ring, beautiful now even with its hidden meaning and wonder what is really behind it.
Was she trying to get her anger out by leaving letters? It is possible that she didn’t know the meaning of the ring inside; maybe it was a left-over from a secondhand purchase. All of these unanswered questions keep wondering which leaves me in a state of doubt and restlessness. Sometimes, the people we believe we know well prove to be total strangers.
