“This is my gift to you,” the husband said, handing his wife an empty box.
Gary woke earlier than usual, clattering dishes loudly in the kitchen, determined to wake Dorothy.
Still, it took effort before an irritated Dorothy finally appeared, her hair tousled and eyes heavy with sleep.
“I don’t have to be up for another hour. Must you make so much noise?” she snapped, smoothing down her unruly waves.
“Got you up, didn’t I? Wanted to make an early start—big day today,” Gary said, pouring himself coffee. “Want some?”
“I want sleep,” Dorothy muttered, turning on her heel and storming back to bed.
Gary watched her go, his expression wounded. How could she have forgotten?
A heavy sigh escaped him. She really didn’t remember his birthday.
But no—surely she had something planned for later. A surprise. That had to be it.
Reassured, he left for work, where colleagues greeted him with warm wishes and a neatly wrapped gift box containing a sleek new watch.
Thrilled, Gary nearly texted Dorothy right then—but no. He’d wait. The day dragged, his anticipation mounting until, the moment the clock struck six, he rushed home.
He imagined Dorothy waiting—a home-cooked meal, a special gift, the works.
Not wanting to startle her, he rang the doorbell instead of barging in.
Silence.
No Dorothy.
His heart sank as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. Had she dashed out for last-minute errands? Maybe left a present on the table?
But the kitchen was empty, the dining table bare.
He waited an hour. Nothing.
Finally, he called her. She ignored it. Then, when she did answer, she snapped at him for interrupting an important call.
That was it. No celebration. No thought at all.
Dorothy didn’t return until late, her exhaustion evident as she flopped onto the sofa without even taking off her coat.
“Is there any food?” she yawned. “I’m starving.”
“No.”
“You couldn’t have made something? You knew I’d be late,” she huffed, standing abruptly.
“I thought *you’d* make something. Considering… today.”
She blinked. Then her brows lifted in sudden realization.
“Oh. Your birthday. Right. Happy birthday.”
Her tone softened, guilt flickering in her eyes.
But a week passed. Then a month. No gift. No acknowledgment.
Gary seethed, resentment simmering. He’d repay her in kind.
A week before *her* birthday, Dorothy started dropping hints—broadly, unsubtly—about the gold bracelet she’d been eyeing.
Gary nodded, smiling pleasantly, as if already planning the surprise.
In truth, he was planning revenge.
That morning, he announced, calmly, “Your gift’s coming tonight,” before heading to work.
He’d already picked it up days ago.
Dorothy, impatient, rushed home early—only to wait. And wait.
Gary arrived deliberately late, the red gift box in hand.
Her eyes lit up the moment she saw it, fingers twitching with excitement.
“Here.” He presented it with exaggerated flourish.
She tore at the wrapping, heart pounding—then froze.
The velvet case was empty.
Dorothy’s breath hitched. “Is this a joke?”
“No,” Gary said coolly, crossing his arms. “It’s exactly what you deserve.”
Her face twisted in fury. “You’re *punishing* me? You utter *swine*!”
She hurled the box at him before storming off, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
Her muffled sobs pricked at his conscience. Maybe this was too far.
They’d been married six years—never a fight like this.
With a sharp exhale, he turned on his heel.
He made it to the jeweller just before closing, snatched the most dazzling gold bracelet in sight, and paid £1,500 without hesitation.
Back home, Dorothy was still crying in bed.
“Dorothy,” he murmured, hiding the velvet case behind his back.
She turned away, lip trembling.
“Sorry about the stupid joke.” He took her wrist gently, clasping the bracelet in place.
She gasped, staring at it in disbelief.
Then her eyes welled again—but this time, with remorse.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “I… I won’t forget again.”