Chapter 518: Something To Remember Me By

"I’ll take that one, please," Sarah said, pointing to the photograph.

"Certainly, Miss. Would you like to include a personal message on the card?"

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, only to realize that she hadn’t considered what she would actually write. She had spent so much time choosing the watch that the idea of including a message had completely escaped her. Now that the saleswoman had brought it up, however, she couldn’t simply dismiss the suggestion. A handwritten note would make the gift feel more personal, and she liked the thought of Stan discovering it when he opened the box.

The saleswoman handed her a small card and a pen, then stepped back slightly to give her some privacy. "Take your time, Miss."

Sarah lowered her gaze to the blank card, turning the pen between her fingers as she tried to think of something suitable. At first, she considered writing a simple birthday greeting before remembering that it wasn’t his birthday. She then thought about congratulating him on something, but that made even less sense. Perhaps she could write something heartfelt, such as Thank you for being you, but the moment the words crossed her mind, she grimaced. It sounded embarrassingly generic, like something printed inside a greeting card she might give an elderly relative.

She tapped the pen lightly against the card, growing increasingly dissatisfied with every idea that came to mind. Writing a message shouldn’t have been this difficult, yet the knowledge that Stan would be reading it made her unusually self-conscious. She wanted the words to sound natural and affectionate without being overly sentimental, but the more she tried to compose something meaningful, the more awkward everything seemed.

Eventually, an idea occurred to her, and she began writing before she could overthink it.

For the moments you spend away from me. Now you’ll have something to remind you to come back.

Sarah finished the message and read it over, initially feeling satisfied with her choice. However, as the meaning settled in, she began to realize just how affectionate it sounded. The words weren’t particularly elaborate, but they carried an intimacy that made her cheeks grow warm. She could already imagine Stan reading the card and looking at her with an amused expression, perhaps even teasing her about how much she wanted him to think about her.

"Oh, that’s embarrassing," she muttered under her breath.

"I’m sorry, Miss?" the saleswoman asked, having caught the remark.

"Nothing!" Sarah replied quickly, folding the card before the woman could glimpse its contents. She handed it over with a slightly flustered smile. "Just put it inside, please."

"Certainly," the saleswoman said, accepting the card without asking any further questions.

Sarah watched as the woman prepared to arrange the gift packaging, still feeling a little embarrassed by what she had written. Nevertheless, she made no attempt to retrieve the card or change the message. As awkward as it seemed now, she had written it because it expressed something she genuinely felt, and she suspected that changing it into something safer would only make it less meaningful. Besides, if Stan teased her about it, she could always blame him for making her feel that way in the first place.

...

While the watch was being prepared for collection, Sarah proceeded to the counter and paid for her purchase. The transaction itself took only a few minutes, but seeing the final amount displayed on the payment terminal made the decision feel strangely real. Until that moment, she had been so occupied with comparing different models and imagining Stan wearing the watch that she hadn’t fully considered the fact that she was about to spend such a substantial amount on a single gift. Now that the payment had been completed, however, there was no denying that she had actually gone through with it.

She had bought Stan a luxury watch, not because she wanted to prove that she could afford something expensive or because she expected him to purchase an equally extravagant gift for her in return. She simply wanted to give him something that would make him smile, something he could use regularly and perhaps remember her by whenever he glanced at his wrist. That was all she had really wanted from the beginning, and realizing this made the purchase feel more meaningful than the amount printed on the receipt could ever explain.

A few minutes later, the saleswoman returned with the finished package and presented it to Sarah with a polite smile. The watch had been secured inside the dark wooden presentation case, its velvet-lined interior providing an elegant setting for the midnight-blue dial and polished silver detailing. The case was then placed inside a sturdy shopping bag bearing the store’s understated logo, completing the packaging without making it unnecessarily conspicuous. Sarah accepted the bag carefully, holding it by the handles and ensuring that it wouldn’t knock against the counter as she adjusted her grip.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at the saleswoman.

"It was our pleasure, Miss. I hope he loves it."

"So do I," Sarah replied, her smile widening slightly at the thought of Stan receiving the gift.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, she left the store and stepped into the afternoon bustle of the shopping district, carrying the gift close to her side. Outside, the atmosphere was considerably livelier than the calm, carefully controlled environment she had just left. Cars crawled along the road as impatient drivers occasionally sounded their horns, adding to the steady murmur of traffic.

A bus stopped near the curb, releasing a stream of passengers who quickly dispersed toward nearby shops and restaurants, while two young men stood beside a storefront arguing over the price of a pair of sneakers. A woman carrying several shopping bags struggled to maneuver around them, carefully avoiding the other pedestrians moving along the crowded pavement.

The air was filled with the familiar scents and sounds of an ordinary afternoon. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted from a bakery farther down the street, mingling with the aroma of food being prepared by nearby vendors.

Somewhere within the crowd, a street vendor enthusiastically advertised his roasted corn to passing customers, his voice occasionally rising above the surrounding conversations.