“He Laughed at My Gift—Now He Regits It Every Single Day”
I’ll never forget the sound of my scrapbook hitting the bottom of Greg’s trash can.
The thud was quiet, but to me, it echoed like a gunshot.
Nine months of love, memories, and effort—gone in a single, careless toss.
And the worst part?
He laughed.
The Beginning: Love (and Red Flags) at First Sight
I met Greg at a frat party during my sophomore year of college. The kind of party where the bass was so loud it made your ribs vibrate, and the air smelled like cheap beer and sweat. I was seconds from leaving when I saw him across the room—tall, confident, with a smirk that made girls’ heads turn.
Our eyes locked. He winked.
And just like that, I was hooked.
“You’re different,” he told me on our third date, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. “Other girls play games. You’re real.”
I melted.
First mistake.
Because looking back? That wasn’t a compliment.
It was a warning.
The Proposal: A Fairy Tale (With Hidden Cracks)
Six months in, Greg got down on one knee in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
“Alice Marie Carter,” he said, grinning up at me, “will you marry me?”
The room erupted in cheers. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped the ring.
I said yes.
My best friend, Sarah, squealed into the phone when I told her. My mom cried. My roommate, Emma, hung our engagement photos on the fridge like they were sacred artifacts.
And Greg?
He bragged to everyone.
“Look what I got,” he’d say, pulling me against his side like I was a trophy. “My perfect little fiancée.”
I should’ve noticed the way he said my—like I was something he owned, not someone he loved.
But I was too busy floating on cloud nine.
The Scrapbook: A Labor of Love (and the Beginning of the End)
Greg’s birthday rolled around, and I wanted to give him something special.
Not just any gift.
Something that would make his eyes light up the way mine did when he proposed.
So I decided to make him a scrapbook.
Not just any scrapbook.
This thing was a masterpiece.
- Every photo from our first date to our engagement.
- Every ticket stub from movies, concerts, even the dumb mini-golf place where he cheated and still lost.
- Handwritten notes about inside jokes, memories, tiny moments I never wanted to forget.
I spent weeks on it.
Staying up until 2 a.m. with glue sticks and glitter. Redoing pages when they weren’t perfect.
Emma found me passed out at the kitchen table one night, Sharpie still in hand.
“Alice,” she groaned, shaking me awake. “You’re gonna kill yourself over this.”
I just smiled. “It’s worth it.”
Because in my mind?
Greg was going to treasure this forever.
The Betrayal: The Moment Everything Shattered
The night of his birthday, I handed him the scrapbook with my heart in my throat.
He flipped through it slowly. His smile was soft.
“Alice… this is incredible,” he murmured, pulling me into a hug. “I love it.”
He kissed me.
He put it on display in his living room.
I thought that was the end of the story.
I was wrong.
Three days later, I walked into his apartment to find him and his buddies sprawled across the couch, PlayStation controllers in hand.
I was grabbing drinks from the kitchen when I heard it—
Laughter.
The ugly kind. The kind that makes your stomach twist.
Then Greg’s voice, loud and mocking:
“Check this out, guys. My girl actually made me a scrapbook. Like we’re in middle school.”
My blood turned to ice.
I stepped into the doorway just in time to see him yank the scrapbook off the shelf—
—and hurl it into the trash.
His friends roared with laughter.
One of them high-fived him.
And Greg?
He smirked at me like it was all some hilarious joke.
“Babe, relax,” he said when he saw my face. “It’s just a dumb book.”
Just a dumb book.
Just my heart.
Just everything.
I forced a laugh. Played it cool.
But inside?
I was breaking.
The Reckoning: When Karma Showed Up in the Best Way Possible
The next night, Greg dragged me to his best friend Mark’s apartment for a “chill hangout.”
I didn’t want to go.
But I went.
And the second we walked in, I knew something was off.
Mark—usually the life of the party—was dead silent.
He kept staring at me with this weird, intense look.
Then, halfway through the night, he stood up.
And pulled my scrapbook out of his bag.
The room went still.
“Greg,” Mark said, his voice like steel. “You recognize this?”
Greg rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, not this again—”
“I FISHED IT OUT OF YOUR TRASH.”
Silence.
Mark’s hands were shaking. “She spent weeks on this. And you threw it away like it was nothing?“
Greg scoffed. “Dude, it’s not that deep—”
“IT IS THAT DEEP.”
Mark’s voice cracked.
“You don’t get it, man. This isn’t just some book. It’s her heart. And you crushed it to impress a bunch of losers who won’t even remember your name in ten years.”
Greg’s face went pale.
His friends looked at the floor.
And me?
I was crying.
Mark turned to me, his eyes blazing.
“Alice,” he said softly, “you deserve so much better.”
Then he handed me the scrapbook.
And I walked out.
The Aftermath: When the Villain Loses Everything
Greg blew up my phone for weeks.
“Babe, it was a joke!”
“You’re overreacting!”
“Mark’s just jealous!”
I blocked him.
Changed my number.
Moved on.
And Mark?
He waited.
Four months of quiet check-ins. “How are you?” texts. Random coffee deliveries to my dorm.
Until one day, at our favorite café, he finally said it:
“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”
Turns out, he’d always loved the way I loved.
The notes. The little gifts. The thought behind everything.
“Only an idiot would throw this away,” he whispered, running his fingers over the scrapbook he’d saved.
Now?
We live together.
He keeps every single thing I give him—napkin doodles, grocery lists, even the stupid coupons I leave in his lunch.
And Greg?
Last I heard, he’s on his third failed engagement.
Karma’s a beautiful thing.
Because in the end?
He didn’t just lose me.
He lost the guy who always had his back—all because he couldn’t keep his ego in check.
And me?
I got everything.
THE END.
(…Or should I say, the beginning?) 😉