I faced a dilemma: my wife’s birthday clashed with my best friend’s wedding. Thinking birthdays come yearly, I chose the wedding, telling her, “You’ll have another birthday.” She smiled, but I missed the pain behind it.
At the lively wedding, a mysterious text shook me: “If you truly loved her, you’d be with her tonight.” The number didn’t exist. Panicked, I rushed home to find our living room adorned with balloons, candles, and a cake saying, “Happy Birthday, Love.” She wasn’t there. A card in her handwriting read: “I don’t need parties or gifts. I wanted you here. Love is choosing each other, every time.”
Her words hit hard. I’d treated her birthday as replaceable, forgetting each one is unique. When she returned from a friend’s, I hugged her, vowing never to prioritize another event over her heart again.
