He Laughed at My Gift—Now He Regrets It Every Day
When my fiancé threw the handmade scrapbook I spent hours creating into the trash and laughed about it with his friends, he thought he was being funny. What he didn’t realize was that moment would change everything—and cost him something he never expected to lose.
Greg and I had been dating for nine months when he proposed. We met at a college party—one of those packed, noisy nights where I almost didn’t go. But then I saw him across the room. He had that confident smile, and when he talked to me, it felt like the world faded away.
“You’re different from other girls,” he said early on. “You actually get my sense of humor.”
At the time, I thought it was sweet. Now, looking back, maybe it was a red flag.
Still, when he got down on one knee with a ring, I didn’t hesitate. I said yes. My friends screamed in excitement, my mom cried happy tears over FaceTime, and I felt like the luckiest girl alive.
Greg acted like he loved all the small things I did for him. I’d leave sticky notes with cute drawings in his car. I baked him cookies on random Tuesdays. He always responded with kisses and smiles.
“My sweet girl,” he’d call me. “You’re amazing.”
So when his birthday came around, I wanted to give him something meaningful. Something that came from the heart. I was a broke college student working part-time at a bookstore—buying anything fancy wasn’t possible.
“I want to make him something,” I told my best friend Sarah while we wandered around Target’s craft aisle. “Something special.”
“That’s adorable,” she said. “What do you have in mind?”
A scrapbook. That’s what I decided on.
I spent hours putting it together. I collected every photo we’d taken on our dates, all the movie ticket stubs we’d saved, little notes I’d written him, and memories from every corner of our relationship. I even drew inside jokes in the margins and doodles of things that made us laugh.
The cover? That took me the longest. I wrote his name in calligraphy, decorated it with tiny hearts, and made sure everything looked perfect.
“This is so beautiful,” my roommate Emma said one night as I worked at the kitchen table. It was almost midnight. “He’s going to love it.”
“I hope so,” I said, gluing down a photo of our first date. “I just want him to know how much these nine months meant to me.”
When his birthday finally arrived, my heart was racing as I handed him the scrapbook. We were alone in his apartment, and I watched every expression on his face as he flipped through the pages.
“Wow,” he said. “This is… wow. I love it, babe.”
He hugged me tight, and I felt like I could fly.
“You really like it?” I asked, smiling.
“Are you kidding? This is amazing,” he said, kissing me. “Look at all this work you put in. Thank you, Alice. Really.”
He even placed the scrapbook on his living room shelf, right where everyone could see it. My heart swelled. He gets me, I thought. He really appreciates what I do.
But just a few days later, everything changed.
We were back at his apartment, hanging out with his college buddies. I was in the kitchen getting drinks when I heard Jake ask, “So, what did you get for your birthday, man?”
I smiled, thinking Greg would proudly show off the scrapbook. I imagined him saying, “My fiancée made this for me,” with a proud grin.
Instead, I heard him laugh.
“Oh man, you guys have to see this,” Greg said.
I walked into the living room just in time to see him grab my scrapbook from the shelf.
“Look at this,” he chuckled, waving it in the air. “Straight outta middle school relationship core.”
I froze.
Then—he tossed it in the trash.
Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.
His friends laughed, like it was the best joke they’d ever heard. I felt a lump in my throat, but I forced a smile. What else could I do? I didn’t want to look “too sensitive.”
“Babe, relax,” Greg said when he saw my face. “It’s just a joke.”
But it didn’t feel like a joke. It felt like he’d thrown away me.
That night, I went home and cried harder than I had in years.
“Maybe I was being silly,” I whispered to myself. “Maybe scrapbooks are lame. Maybe I embarrassed him…”
But no matter how I tried to justify it, I couldn’t shake the pain. Because deep down, I knew—I had given him something real, and he treated it like garbage.
The next night, Greg’s best friend Mark invited us over for a small hangout.
I didn’t want to go. I still felt humiliated. But Greg pushed.
“Come on, babe,” he said. “Mark’s making his famous chili!”
So I went. But as soon as we walked in, I could tell something was off.
Mark was quiet. He kept looking at me with a strange, tight expression.
“You okay?” I asked softly when Greg went to the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Mark said, but his voice was tense. “Just thinking about some stuff.”
Fifteen minutes in, everyone was chatting and laughing when Mark suddenly stood up—with something in his hands.
It was my scrapbook.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Greg,” Mark said, holding it up. “Do you recognize this?”
Greg looked at it and laughed again. “Oh man, that thing?”
Mark didn’t laugh.
“I found it in your trash,” he said firmly. “I took out the garbage for you after the party, remember?”
“Yeah, so?” Greg shrugged.
Then Mark snapped.
“So? SO? This is something she made for you with her heart, Greg. She spent hours on this! And you threw it away to look cool in front of your friends?”
The room went silent.
Greg shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Dude, it was just a joke—”
“No. It wasn’t,” Mark said, his voice cold. “You didn’t just throw away a scrapbook. You threw away someone’s love. Do you even get that?”
I felt the tears start to fall.
Mark turned to me. “She saved every memory. Every ticket, every note. She put all that into this, and you made fun of her for it? You’re a fool, Greg. A complete fool.”
Greg’s friends stared at the floor, not saying a word.
“You didn’t deserve this,” Mark said quietly, looking down at the scrapbook. “And you sure as hell don’t deserve her.”
I left that night alone.
Greg tried to stop me, tried to explain. But I wasn’t ready to listen. I sat in my dorm room with Emma, sipping tea, thinking about everything.
“You okay, honey?” she asked gently.
“I think I am,” I said. “I think I finally see who he really is.”
The next morning, I called Greg.
“We need to talk,” I told him.
“Alice, listen—about last night—”
“I want someone who values me,” I said. “You don’t. We’re done.”
“What? Babe, I was just teasing—”
“No, Greg. You don’t joke about someone’s heart. Goodbye.”
And that was it. Nine months. An engagement. Over.
But strangely, I felt free.
Four Months Later
I focused on school. Spent time with real friends. I started to feel me again.
One day, I was at my favorite coffee shop, waiting for a vanilla latte, when I heard someone say, “Alice?”
I turned around.
It was Mark.
We hadn’t seen each other since that night.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Hi,” I replied. “Mark, I never got to thank you. What you did that night… thank you. Really.”
He gave a small smile. “You don’t need to thank me for telling the truth.”
We grabbed our drinks and sat at a small corner table. That’s when he looked me in the eyes and said something that stopped my heart.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day Greg introduced us,” he said. “I never said anything because he was my friend. But after what he did? I couldn’t stay silent anymore. You deserve better.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“There’s more,” he added, reaching into his backpack. “I couldn’t let this end up in the trash again.”
He pulled out the scrapbook.
“You kept it?” I whispered.
“Of course,” he said. “Only an idiot would throw this away.”
We talked for hours. He told me he’d wanted to reach out but didn’t want me to think he was taking advantage of the breakup.
“And now?” I asked.
“Now I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance,” he said, “to show you how love is supposed to feel.”
We started seeing each other slowly. And now? We’ve been together for almost a year.
He saves everything I give him—napkin doodles, movie tickets, notes. He tells me I’m his favorite person every single day.
Looking back, I see that the universe used heartbreak to lead me to someone who truly sees me.
Greg never saw it coming. He lost the best thing he ever had. And in doing so… he handed me straight into the arms of someone who knows my worth.
And honestly?
That’s the sweetest revenge of all.