Sandra had always dreamed that this Valentine’s Day would be different. Maybe this time, Jeffrey would actually make an effort. But as she walked into the apartment and saw what he had left for her on the dining table, her heart sank. Her thoughts raced—what did Jeffrey get for her? Why was she feeling so upset about it?
“I used to believe love was about compromise,” Sandra thought, her mind traveling back to the many times she’d told herself this. “It’s about accepting imperfections, making things work, and lowering your expectations so you don’t get disappointed.”
But as she stood in the apartment, staring at the bouquet her husband had “gifted” her, something deep inside her told her she had been wrong all along.
“Love isn’t about settling for the bare minimum,” she realized. “It’s not about taking flowers out of a dumpster and pretending they mean something.”
She didn’t know exactly when Jeffrey had stopped caring, or if he ever had truly cared. Maybe it happened slowly, like a fog rolling in. Or maybe she had been so caught up in trying to make it work that she ignored all the warning signs.
By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, Sandra had already prepared herself for the disappointment. She had set her expectations low, but Jeffrey still found a way to let her down.
A week before Valentine’s Day, as they sat down for dinner, she tried to bring up the topic.
“Are we doing anything for Valentine’s Day?” she asked, watching him absentmindedly scroll through his phone.
He barely looked up. “It’s a stupid holiday. Just a marketing scam to make people waste their money.”
Sandra felt her heart drop, but she masked her feelings. “I’m not asking for anything big, Jeff. Just… maybe some flowers?”
He snorted, reaching for his beer. “Flowers? What a waste. They die in two days.”
She forced a smile, pretending to understand. But deep down, it stung. Why couldn’t he put in the smallest bit of effort? What was so hard about buying a simple bouquet to make her feel special, just for one day?
She should have taken his answer as a red flag. She should’ve stopped hoping right then and there. But Sandra didn’t. And that made what happened next even worse.
The morning of Valentine’s Day arrived, and, as expected, Jeffrey didn’t acknowledge it. No “Happy Valentine’s Day,” no sweet hug or kiss, not even a cup of coffee waiting on the counter.
He was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone when she said good morning. All he gave her was a grunt. And when she asked if he had any plans, all he did was complain about his breakfast.
By the time she left for work, Sandra felt like a fool. She had hoped, even in the smallest way, that this time would be different. But it wasn’t.
As the day wore on, the ache of disappointment sat heavy in her chest. When she finally got home, all she wanted was a hot shower and to forget about the day.
But as she walked toward the entrance to their building, something caught her eye near the dumpster.
A bouquet of roses, slightly wilted, with a few petals curled at the edges, sat on top of the trash.
“They’re not totally dead,” Sandra thought. “Just a little sad looking.”
She thought about it for a second—maybe someone had thrown them out. Perhaps a couple who had broken up? Or a florist who couldn’t sell them in time?
Sandra shook her head, deciding it wasn’t her problem, and walked past them into the house.
Later, when she stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around her hair, she froze. There, on the dining table, was a bouquet of roses in a vase.
Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe, just maybe, Jeffrey had changed his mind. Maybe he had gone out and actually bought them. Maybe this was his way of showing he cared.
As she stepped closer, the smile that had started to form on her lips faded. She noticed something: One of the stems was bent awkwardly, and some of the petals were already curling.
Her stomach dropped.
She knew those flowers.
She had seen them just an hour ago, sitting on top of the dumpster.
Jeffrey walked out of the living room, rubbing his stomach as if he had just eaten a feast instead of tossing her a discarded bouquet.
“Oh, you saw them?” he said casually, as if he had just handed her the world. “Thought you’d like ’em.”
Sandra couldn’t hold back anymore. “Where did you get these flowers?” she asked, her voice sharp.
Jeffrey looked at her, confused. “Found them outside,” he said nonchalantly. “Some idiot threw them away before they even wilted. Can you believe that?”
He shook his head like he was disgusted by the wastefulness of others, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just handed his wife flowers pulled from the trash and expected her to be grateful.
Sandra could feel the anger boiling inside of her. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, her voice calm but heavy with disbelief. “You couldn’t bother to buy me flowers, but you found some in the trash and thought that was good enough?”
Jeffrey groaned, rubbing his temples like she was the one making a scene. “Oh, come on, Sandra. They weren’t in the trash, they were on top of it. There’s a difference.”
A small, humorless laugh escaped Sandra’s lips. “Wow. That’s your defense? That they were on top of the trash? That’s where the bar is now?”
He rolled his eyes, clearly irritated. “I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Flowers are flowers. What’s the difference where they came from?”
Her anger flared, but then something else shifted inside of her. It wasn’t just about the flowers anymore. It was about everything—the way he never made any effort, the way he always dismissed her feelings, and the way he made her feel like expecting basic respect was too much to ask for.
Sandra stood still, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides. She wasn’t just angry. She was done.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jeffrey snoring beside her, her mind replayed every moment of their relationship. All the times she had settled for less than she deserved.
“Nothing’s going to be okay if I don’t stand up for myself,” she thought. “I have to do something about this. Enough is enough.”
Jeffrey’s birthday was only three days away.
For the next few days, Sandra played her part perfectly. She smiled when he spoke. She nodded at his lazy attempts at conversation. She even thanked him for the flowers, pretending it didn’t bother her.
And because Jeffrey never looked any deeper than the surface, he bought it completely.
The morning of his birthday, Sandra kissed him on the cheek before he left for work. “I have a surprise for you tonight,” she whispered.
His face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said sweetly.
Sandra had spent years lowering her expectations for Jeffrey, but tonight, she was going to return the favor.
That evening, she set the dining table as if she cared. Candles flickered softly in the dim light, making everything look romantic. Plates were neatly arranged, napkins folded just right, and a bottle of wine sat proudly in the middle.
When Jeffrey walked in, he couldn’t stop smiling. He shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie like a king coming home.
“Now this,” he said, plopping into his chair, “is how you celebrate a spouse.”
Sandra smiled sweetly and sat down across from him. “Only the best for you, babe.”
He reached for the wine, pouring himself a glass. “So,” he said, lifting his drink, “where’s my gift?”
Sandra leaned forward, placing a beautifully wrapped box in front of him. It was tied with a perfect red satin ribbon.
“Go on,” she chirped. “Open it!”
Jeffrey grinned, rubbing his hands together like a child about to unwrap the best present ever. He tore off the wrapping paper, eager to see what was inside. When he pulled out the contents, his grin vanished.
Inside the box was a pair of socks and underwear. Used. Wrinkled. Faded.
Jeffrey stared at the contents, confused. “What the heck is this?” he asked.
Sandra tilted her head, acting innocent. “Your birthday gift. Don’t you like it?”
He held up a sock and frowned. “Why do they look worn?”
Sandra took a slow sip of her wine, savoring the moment. “Oh, don’t worry. They weren’t in the trash. Just on top.”
The second the words left her mouth, she saw the exact moment it clicked in his eyes. His expression turned from confusion to realization, and then to fury.
“You’re joking,” he said.
Sandra leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Nope. Just figured if dumpster gifts were good enough for me, they’d be good enough for you.”
Jeffrey shoved the box away like it had burned him. “This isn’t funny, Sandra.”
“Oh, but it is,” she said with a small laugh. “It’s actually hilarious.”
Jeffrey’s face turned red with anger. He stood up, pushing his chair back so hard it tipped over, and stormed off to the bedroom without even touching his food.
Sandra, on the other hand, took her time, savoring every bite of her meal, enjoying the wine, and relishing in the moment.
The next morning, Jeffrey barely spoke to her. He stomped around the apartment, hoping she would apologize or feel bad. But Sandra didn’t.
Because she had one last surprise for him.
After breakfast, she slid a folder across the table.
“Happy belated birthday,” she said, her voice steady.
Jeffrey flipped it open. His eyes widened in shock. “Seriously, Sandra? What is this? Is this some kind of prank?”
“Nope,” she replied, her voice calm. “No prank. They’re real divorce papers. It’s over, Jeffrey.”
He stared at her, stunned, like she had just ripped his world apart. “Sandra, come on. You’re really doing this over some flowers?”
Sandra let out a soft sigh. “It’s not about the flowers, Jeff. It’s about everything. The bare minimum. The lack of effort. The way you made me feel like I wasn’t worth your time. But I finally realized something.” She stood up, pushing her chair in. “I deserve better.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Sandra cut him off with one final parting shot.
“Oh, and don’t worry,” she said, grabbing her purse. “I didn’t find the 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 a long time ago. But she had been blind to the signs. Maybe sometimes, we all need that final straw to push us in the right direction.
And Jeffrey? Well, he had just given her hers, wrapped up in dumpster flowers.
So, thanks, buddy. You saved me years of wasted time.
