Sandra had imagined that this Valentine’s Day would be different. She’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jeffrey would show some effort. But when she walked into the apartment and saw what he had left for her on the dining table, her heart sank. What did Jeffrey get for her? And why was she so upset about it?
“I used to believe love was all about compromise,” Sandra thought, standing in her apartment, staring at the wilted bouquet that Jeffrey had given her. “I thought that if I lowered my expectations, I wouldn’t be disappointed.” But now, she saw how wrong she was.
Love wasn’t about settling for the bare minimum, she realized. It wasn’t about pretending that flowers pulled from a dumpster had any real meaning.
Sandra couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Jeffrey stopped caring about her, or if he ever had in the first place. Maybe it happened so gradually that she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she’d been ignoring the signs all along. Whatever the case, by the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, she had already braced herself for disappointment.
A week before the day, she brought it up casually at dinner.
“Are we doing anything for Valentine’s Day?” Sandra asked, watching Jeffrey scroll through his phone, not even looking up.
He barely looked at her and scoffed. “It’s a stupid holiday. Just a marketing scam to make people waste their money.”
Sandra tried to stay calm, not letting his words hurt her, though they did. “I’m not asking for anything big, Jeff. Just maybe some flowers?”
He snorted, grabbing his beer. “Flowers? What a waste. They die in two days.”
Sandra tried to smile and nod as if she understood, but inside, she was crushed. What was so hard about picking up a small bouquet? About making her feel special, even for just one day?
She should’ve taken his response as a warning. She should’ve stopped hoping. But she didn’t. And that made what happened next even worse.
When Valentine’s Day came, there was no “Happy Valentine’s Day,” no hug, no coffee waiting for her when she woke up. Just Jeffrey on the couch, eyes glued to his phone. He barely muttered a response when she said “good morning.” All he cared about was complaining about his breakfast.
By the time she left for work, Sandra felt like a fool for expecting anything different. But as the day dragged on, a dull ache settled in her chest, and the disappointment weighed heavily on her.
That evening, all she wanted was a hot shower and an early night. But when she walked into the building, fumbling with her keys, something caught her eye near the entrance. A bouquet of roses. It wasn’t much—just a few flowers with some wilting petals, but they weren’t completely dead. Someone had thrown them away. Maybe a couple who had broken up? Or a florist who hadn’t sold them in time?
She tried to shake it off, thinking it wasn’t her problem, and walked past them toward her apartment.
Later, as the hot water from her shower soothed her tired muscles, Sandra couldn’t shake the thought of the flowers from her mind. She wasn’t expecting anything from Jeffrey, but maybe he had surprised her after all. Maybe he’d realized how much the day meant to her. Maybe he cared.
But when she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she froze.
On the dining table, sitting in a vase, was a bouquet of roses.
Her heart lifted for a moment, but then her eyes caught something strange. One of the stems was bent at an odd angle, and a few petals had curled. She knew those flowers.
She had seen them just an hour ago.
They were the same ones that had been discarded on top of the dumpster outside.
Sandra felt a rush of anger bubbling up. She didn’t even have to ask where Jeffrey had gotten them. As if on cue, Jeffrey strolled out of the living room, rubbing his stomach like he’d just eaten a full meal instead of handing her a trash bouquet.
“Oh, you saw them?” he said casually. “Thought you’d like ’em.”
Sandra stood there, her arms crossed, staring at him. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t angry. She just looked at him, no expression at all. “Where did you get these flowers?”
“Found them outside,” he said nonchalantly, as if finding discarded flowers on the street was the most normal thing in the world. “Some idiot threw them away before they even wilted. Can you believe that?”
Sandra couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You couldn’t be bothered to buy me flowers, but you thought it was fine to pick them out of the trash and pretend it’s the same thing?”
Jeffrey groaned and rubbed his temples like she was the one being unreasonable. “Oh, come on, Sandra. They weren’t in the trash. They were on top of it. There’s a difference.”
Sandra let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Wow. That’s your defense? They were on top of the trash, not in it? That’s where the bar is now?”
Jeffrey rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Flowers are flowers. What’s the difference?”
Sandra felt a wave of frustration, but then something inside her clicked. This wasn’t just about the flowers. This was about everything.
The way Jeffrey never bothered to put in any effort. The way he dismissed her feelings like they didn’t matter. The way he made her feel like it was too much to ask for the simplest things.
She swallowed hard, her fists clenching. She wasn’t just mad anymore. She was done. And for once, she wasn’t going to let this go.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling while Jeffrey snored beside her, her mind raced. She had spent years lowering her expectations, convincing herself that everything would be okay.
But now, Sandra realized that nothing would ever be okay if she didn’t stand up for herself. Enough was enough.
In three days, it would be Jeffrey’s birthday. And Sandra had a plan.
For the next few days, she played her part perfectly. She smiled when he spoke, nodded when he tried to make conversation, even thanked him for the “flowers,” pretending to let it all go. And because Jeffrey was Jeffrey, the man who never saw anything beneath the surface, he believed her.
Finally, Jeffrey’s birthday arrived. Sandra kissed him on the cheek as he left for work and whispered, “I’ve got a surprise for you tonight.”
His face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said sweetly.
That evening, she set the dining table. Candles flickered softly, casting a warm, romantic glow. Plates were arranged neatly. A bottle of wine sat in the middle. It looked like the perfect setup for a birthday dinner.
When Jeffrey walked in, he couldn’t stop smiling. He shrugged off his jacket, loosened his tie, and plopped into his seat like he was the king coming home to his castle. “Now this,” he said, grinning, “is how you celebrate a spouse.”
Sandra smiled sweetly, taking her seat across from him. “Only the best for you, babe.”
He reached for the wine, pouring himself a generous glass. “So,” he said, “where’s my gift?”
Sandra leaned forward with feigned excitement and placed a beautifully wrapped box in front of him. It was tied with a red satin ribbon, perfect in every way. “Go ahead,” she chirped. “Open it!”
He rubbed his hands together, grinning, before tearing into the wrapping paper. His fingers moved quickly, eager to see what awaited him.
When he pulled out the contents, his grin immediately faded.
Sandra had given him a pair of socks and underwear.
Used. Faded. Wrinkled.
Like they’d been pulled out of a bargain bin at a secondhand store.
Jeffrey stared at the box in disbelief. “What the heck is this?”
Sandra tilted her head innocently. “Your birthday gift. Don’t you like it?”
“Why do they look worn?” he asked, confused.
Sandra took a slow sip of wine, savoring the moment. “Oh, don’t worry. They weren’t in the trash. Just on top.”
She saw the moment it clicked. His eyes narrowed, and his face turned red. He realized exactly what she had done.
“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice tight with anger.
Sandra leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “Nope. Just figured if dumpster gifts were good enough for me, they’re good enough for you.”
He shoved the box away as if it had burned him. “This isn’t funny, Sandra.”
“Oh, but it is,” she replied, letting out a small laugh. “Actually, it’s hilarious.”
Fuming, Jeffrey stormed off to the bedroom without touching his food.
But Sandra took her time. She savored every bite of her meal and sipped her wine slowly, relishing the taste of victory.
The next morning, Jeffrey barely spoke to her. He stomped around the apartment, waiting for her to apologize. But she didn’t.
Because she had one final surprise for him.
After breakfast, Sandra slid a folder across the table. “Happy belated birthday,” she said.
When he flipped it open, his face drained of color. “Seriously, Sandra? What’s this? Is this a joke?”
“Nope,” she said calmly. “No joke. They’re real divorce papers. It’s over, Jeffrey.”
His eyes widened in shock. “Sandra, come on. You’re really doing this over some flowers?”
“It’s not about the flowers,” she replied, her voice steady. “It’s about everything. The bare minimum. The lack of effort. You never made me feel like I mattered.”
Sandra stood up, pushing her chair in with a finality. “But that’s okay. I’ve finally realized I deserve better.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with one final jab.
“Oh, and don’t worry,” she said, grabbing her purse. “I didn’t find these papers in the trash. Not even on top of it.”
And with that, she walked out of the house she had once called home.
Looking back, Sandra realized she should have left long ago. But sometimes, it takes one final straw to show us the way. And Jeffrey? He had given her that straw—wrapped in dumpster flowers.
So, thanks, buddy. You saved me years of wasted time.
