Three weeks later, he passed away unexpectedly.
The grief was crushing. I kept thinking about that night—not angry about the gift anymore, just heartbroken over my own reaction. I realized I had let my disappointment overshadow the love between us. I missed everything—his voice, his laugh, even the way he’d remind me to drink water when I got too busy.
Then, today, while cleaning, the perfume bottle fell. The cap popped off, and a small folded note slipped out. My hands trembled as I picked it up.
It was in his handwriting:
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