The note was brief, but it undid me. “I know this perfume isn’t much,” he wrote, “but I’m saving for the necklace you’ve always wanted. Thank you for believing in me, even when I don’t say it enough. You are my forever gift.”
I sat there on the floor, clutching the note, tears falling faster than I could read. That little bottle — the one I’d dismissed — wasn’t the gift. It was a placeholder. A promise. A quiet testament that he’d been listening, planning, loving me in ways I hadn’t seen.
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