I got my husband his dream watch for our 10th anniversary. All he got me was cheap perfume in a plastic bottle. I was so angry, I tossed it aside and never used it. This was our last celebration because he died unexpectedly three weeks later. The pain of losing him was unbearable—I replayed that night over and over, angry not at the gift anymore, but at myself for letting disappointment overshadow love. I missed his voice, his laugh, even the way he reminded me to drink water when I got too busy.

Today, I was cleaning and the bottle fell. When it hit the floor, the cap popped off and a small folded paper slipped out. My hands trembled as I picked it up. Inside was a handwritten note that said, “I know this perfume is temporary, but next month I’ll surprise you with the necklace you’ve been dreaming about. 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, holding the bottle and the note against my heart, tears pouring freely. The perfume wasn’t cheap—he had simply wrapped his love in a humble container while saving for something bigger. But the real gift wasn’t the necklace. It was his thoughtfulness, his effort, his quiet love that I had failed to see.