I went into the kitchen to slice some cheese and wash the grapes. Oliver had really gone all out—he’d bought so much, it took me by surprise. I decided to put the leftover cheese and the bag of grapes in the fridge. When I opened the door, there it was… a salad in a crystal bowl, already chopped and neatly arranged, as if waiting for its moment. I froze, completely baffled. Where had it come from? Oliver and I definitely hadn’t made anything like that.
Our family consists of me, Oliver, and our son, Henry. We get on well, though like any family, we have our little surprises now and then. Oliver loves treating us to little luxuries, often stopping by the supermarket after work and bringing home something special—maybe exotic fruits, fancy cheeses, or sweets. That day, he came back with a whole bag of groceries: several types of cheese, grapes, cured meats, and fresh bread. I joked that he must’ve been planning a feast for an army. We’d only meant to have a quiet dinner and watch a film, nothing fancy. I got to work prepping, slicing the cheese and rinsing the grapes, but there wasn’t enough space on the table. So, I figured I’d stash the extra in the fridge to keep it fresh.
And then, I opened the fridge—and there was that crystal bowl. We own the set, passed down to me from my grandmother, but I hardly ever use it, saving it for special occasions. Inside the bowl was a salad: crisp cucumbers, ripe tomatoes, fresh herbs, and a dressing that glistened as if it had just been tossed. I even rubbed my eyes, thinking I must be imagining it. Oliver and I certainly hadn’t made any salad, and Henry’s far too young for that kind of cooking. And who’d use the crystal for something so ordinary? It’s not just a bowl—it’s practically a family heirloom!
I called for Oliver. He peered into the fridge, eyed the bowl, and looked just as puzzled. “You didn’t make this, did you?” he asked. I shook my head. We started tossing around theories: maybe a neighbor had dropped by and left it? But the door had been locked, and no one had come round. Maybe I’d forgotten I’d made it myself? No, I remembered clearly—I’d spent the day cleaning, not cooking. Oliver even joked that the house fairy must’ve fancied treating us. We had a laugh, but it still left us feeling uneasy.
Henry, overhearing us, came bounding into the kitchen. “Mum, it’s probably magic!” he declared, utterly serious. His imagination made us smile, but the mystery remained unsolved. We decided to try the salad—it was delicious, fresh, lightly dressed with olive oil and lemon. Nothing unusual about the ingredients, but the sheer oddness of it appearing in our fridge in a crystal bowl kept nagging at us.
Then it hit me—my friend Emily had popped by earlier that morning. She sometimes stops in for tea when she’s out and about nearby. I rang her up and asked if she’d left anything in our fridge. Emily laughed and confessed. Turns out, she’d made the salad for a family dinner, but her fridge had broken down, so she’d stashed it with us until she could take it home. Since I’d been busy cleaning, she didn’t want to disturb me and just slipped it into the fridge. She’d used the crystal bowl to make it look nice, assuming we’d guess it was hers straight away.
Oliver and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was all much simpler than we’d thought—no house fairies or magic involved. But the whole thing turned into a bit of an adventure for us. Henry still asks now and then if any “enchanted food” has appeared in the fridge. And these days, I always double-check what’s inside before putting anything away. Emily apologised, of course, but we just laughed. She even offered to make salads for us on purpose next time.
This little episode reminded me how important it is to cherish these moments. Life’s full of surprises, and even a simple salad in a crystal bowl can spark family stories and laughter. Oliver and I decided we’d return the favour someday—maybe leave something tasty in Emily’s fridge when she least expects it. And that crystal bowl? I use it more often now, not just for special occasions. It’s become a reminder that even on the most ordinary days, there’s room for a bit of wonder.
