or our 10th anniversary, my husband threw a grand party with friends, family, and his smug sister, flaunting the gold bracelet she’d gifted him. I anticipated a thoughtful present, but when I opened the box he handed me, there it was—a rag. His sister burst into laughter, while guests exchanged shocked glances.
“Is this a joke?” I asked, hurt. He forced a weak smile. Before he could respond, the doorbell rang. A delivery man handed me an elegant bouquet and a velvet box.
Inside was a sparkling diamond necklace with a note: “Happy Anniversary, Love!” My husband turned pale, mumbling it was all meant to be a surprise.
As his sister kept laughing, she slipped on the rag and broke her bracelet. Guests now admired my necklace, and my husband apologized. By evening’s end, we toasted to ten years, hoping for fewer rags and more roses ahea
