This year’s Secret Santa started fine until one friend opened her gifts and realized the magic didn’t quite make it to her. A random candle that smells like a hotel lobby. A nail polish set, she literally said she didn’t want. Some candy that might have fallen out of a gas station bag. Sure, one thing came from her wishlist, but the rest felt thrown together at the last second. Everyone else got neat, thoughtful stuff. Hers looked like a rushed grab before checkout.  

The thing is, this group actually takes Secret Santa seriously. It’s their end‑of‑year tradition, the kind that usually means effort and inside jokes. They don’t just buy things, they show they notice details. So seeing everyone unwrap perfect little gifts while hers looked like an accident was, yeah, deflating. Not rage‑level bad, just that quiet sting that comes when someone close forgets what makes you you.