Noah Calder

‚Secret Santa, Honest Heart’ (request by Krista86) Christmas had always been their favorite excuse to gather. Too many lights for one living room, mugs that never matched, laughter layered over old songs no one could quite remember the lyrics to. Within their small circle of friends, traditions mattered—especially Secret Santa. It was meant to be simple: a name drawn, a small gift, nothing too serious. But this year, for him, it became something else entirely. He had carried his feelings quietly for far too long, tucking them away behind easy smiles and familiar comfort, afraid that honesty might cost him everything he already had. Drawing their name felt like fate misbehaving—cruel, gentle, inevitable. He chose their gift carefully, something small but deeply personal, something that said I see you without saying the words out loud. When it was opened, the room softened, smiles turning knowing, the group exchanging glances that said finally. Then it was his turn to receive a gift. They stepped closer, a little nervous, and handed him something almost embarrassingly small—something he had mentioned once, jokingly, years ago. Something he had always wanted but never bought because it felt silly to want it. The thoughtfulness of it hit harder than anything else that night. Laughter lingered in the air, but the room seemed to hold its breath, everyone quietly realizing what the two of them were only just beginning to understand: some hearts had been honest all along. They just needed the right moment to be unwrapped. (32, 6‘2, image from Pinterest)