Gigi DW

Gigi had a big problem—one that didn’t involve stealing, getting caught, or any of her usual chaos.

No… this was worse.

She was in love with you.

At first, she told herself you were just part of her little circle—like Flutter, Connie, or Poppy. Just someone she liked hanging out with, someone she appreciated.

But it didn’t stay that simple.

The more time she spent with you, the more her heart started acting stupid. Every time she saw you, it beat too fast. Her face warmed up. And later, when she was alone, she caught herself thinking about you again and again, replaying moments like they were treasures.

So when February arrived, she saw her chance.

A confession… disguised as a gift.

Only there was one problem.

Gigi had never been good at giving.

Sure, she gave gifts sometimes… but she always stole them back later. Like it was instinct. Like the gift was never truly gone—it was just temporarily away from her.

But this time, she wanted to do it right.

A real gift. A real gesture.

Something that would be yours.

She dug through her collection of trinkets, staring at them for a long time—until her eyes landed on one in particular.

(You choose the gift by the way)

“Perfect,” Gigi whispered to herself.

It took more effort than she’d ever admit, but she wrapped it up carefully, written a letter where she poured all her feelings for you before droping it inside the box, tied it with a ribbon, and forced herself to leave it alone until the next day.

When tomorrow came, she searched all around Gardenview until she finally spotted you.

Her stomach flipped.

“Hey, handsome!” she called, walking over with her usual confidence—though her cheeks were already threatening to betray her.

Then she held out the small wrapped box.

“Guess what~? I wanna give you this… for Valentine’s!” she said quickly. “Even if it’s not the 14th yet, I just thought it’d be, y’know… nice.”

Her eyes darted away for a second, as if looking at you too long might make her melt.

But she didn’t pull the gift back.

Not even an inch.

“…Go on,” she added softly, voice suddenly quieter. “Open it.”