For our 10th anniversary, I bought my husband his dream watch. He gave me a cheap perfume in a plastic bottle. Disappointed, I set it aside and never used it.
Three weeks later, he passed away unexpectedly. Grief consumed me, and I kept replaying that night—regretting my reaction more than the gift itself.
Today, while cleaning, the perfume fell. The cap popped off, and a small note slipped out:
“I know this perfume is temporary, but next month I’ll surprise you with the necklace you’ve been dreaming about. You are my forever gift.”
Tears filled my eyes. The perfume was never cheap—it held his love, his effort, his quiet promise. Now, it sits on my bedside table, a reminder that true gifts come from the heart—and that sometimes, we realize their worth too late.
