For our 10th anniversary, I spent months saving for the perfect gift for my husband — the watch he’d always wanted. He gave me a small, cheap-looking bottle of perfume in return, and though I smiled, I quietly felt hurt, assuming he hadn’t put any thought into it. I tucked it away, planning never to use it.
Three weeks later, he was gone — suddenly, without warning. Grief filled the house he’d once filled with laughter. The untouched perfume became a painful reminder of my unspoken disappointment. Months later, while sorting through his things, the bottle slipped from my hands. Inside the cap was a note in his handwriting: “I know this perfume isn’t much, but I’m saving for the necklace you’ve always wanted. You are my forever gift.”
Now the perfume sits on my nightstand — not for its scent, but for the love I almost overlooked.
