“He Mocked My Gift—Now He’s Begging for Me Back”
Nine months of love. One cruel joke. And a revenge he never saw coming.
When my fiancé, Greg, tossed the handmade scrapbook I’d spent weeks crafting into the trash and laughed about it with his friends, he thought it was hilarious.
What he didn’t realize?
That moment would destroy our relationship—and hand me straight to the one person he never expected.
The Beginning: Love Bombed & Blinded
We met at a college party—one of those sweaty, loud nights where I almost didn’t go. But then I saw him.
Greg had that cocky grin, the kind that made girls swoon. When he talked to me, it felt like we were the only two people in the room.
“You’re different from other girls,” he said early on. “You actually get me.”
At the time, I melted. Now? Red flag.
Still, when he proposed nine months later, I said yes without hesitation. My friends screamed, my mom cried, and I floated on cloud nine.
Greg loved my little romantic gestures—notes in his lunchbox, surprise cookies, doodles on his coffee cups.
“My sweet girl,” he’d murmur, kissing my forehead. “You’re perfect.”
So for his birthday, I wanted to give him something special. Something from the heart.
The Scrapbook That Changed Everything
I was broke—just a college student working part-time at a bookstore. So I decided to make his gift.
A scrapbook.
I spent hours cutting, gluing, arranging. Every photo from our dates, every movie ticket stub, every inside joke scribbled in the margins.
My roommate, Emma, watched me work late into the night.
“Greg’s gonna lose it when he sees this,” she said.
I hoped so.
On his birthday, I handed him the scrapbook, my heart pounding. He flipped through it, his eyes widening.
“Alice… this is incredible,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I love it.”
He even displayed it on his shelf—right where everyone could see it.
I thought he meant it.
I was wrong.
The Betrayal: “Look at This Pathetic Thing”
Three days later, we were at his apartment with his friends. I was grabbing drinks when I heard:
“What’d you get for your birthday, man?”
I smiled, waiting for Greg to gush about the scrapbook.
Instead—laughter.
“Oh dude, you gotta see this,” Greg sneered.
I turned just in time to watch him yank the scrapbook off the shelf and wave it like a joke.
“Straight outta middle school,” he jeered.
Then—he threw it in the trash.
His friends howled.
My stomach dropped.
Greg smirked at my shocked face. “Relax, babe. It’s just a joke.”
But it wasn’t funny.
It was humiliating.
The Reckoning: His Best Friend Exposes Him
The next night, Greg’s best friend, Mark, invited us over.
I didn’t want to go, but Greg insisted.
“Mark’s making his famous chili!”
The second we walked in, I knew something was off.
Mark was tense, his jaw clenched. Then—he pulled out my scrapbook.
“Recognize this, Greg?”
Greg laughed. “Oh, that thing?”
Mark’s voice turned icy.
“I found it in your trash. You threw away something she put her heart into—just to impress your friends?”
Silence.
Greg shifted. “Dude, it was just—”
“No.” Mark cut him off. “You don’t get to call love a joke.”
Then he turned to me, his eyes burning.
“You deserve better.”
The Breakup: “We’re Done.”
I left that night alone.
Greg blew up my phone:
“Babe, it was just a joke!”
“You’re overreacting!”
“Come on, it’s not that deep!”
The next morning, I called him.
“We’re done.”
“Alice, wait—”
“No. You don’t get to laugh at my love and keep me.”
Click.
The Twist: Love Where I Least Expected It
Four months later, I ran into Mark at a coffee shop.
He looked at me, hesitant. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I smiled. “Thanks for what you did that night.”
He shook his head. “Only an idiot would throw away something you made.”
Then—he pulled out the scrapbook.
“You kept it?” I whispered.
“Of course.” He smiled. “It’s beautiful. Just like you.”
We talked for hours. And then—
“I’ve loved you since the day Greg introduced us,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t say anything… until now.”
A year later?
He’s the man who keeps every note I write him.
The one who calls my love a “treasure.”
The one who makes sure I never doubt my worth.
And Greg?
He’s begging for me back.
But sorry, Greg—you had your chance.
And you threw it in the trash.
THE END.
(…Or is it just the beginning?) 😉