Erin and Mike got married at 20 and had the best marriage anyone could want. But at 76 years old, Mike realized they were too old for all that romance, mainly because it was one-sided. Erin was heartbroken and asked for a divorce, but a shocking event happened.
“I don’t understand why you don’t bring me flowers anymore,” Erin whined to her husband, Mike, one day. After 56 years of marriage, her husband had suddenly stopped being romantic, something that had made their relationship the envy of everyone they knew.
“Erin, you are not going to die if I don’t bring flowers every day,” Mike answered from his place on the couch, his hand grabbing the remote control to flip a channel.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Erin was displeased. “But that’s not fair. For the past month, you’ve stopped every single romantic gesture. What’s happening? Are you having an affair? AT OUR AGE?” she exclaimed in outrage, placing her hands on her waist.
“For God’s sake, Erin. It’s been decades since we got married, and I’ve given you something every day since. But I stop for a while and suddenly I’m cheating on you? Are you crazy?” Mike asked, focusing on his wife.
“I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND! DON’T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?” Erin yelled.
Mike stood up from the couch at that question and looked at his wife seriously. “Maybe I’m tired of being the only one making some sort of romantic gesture!” he blurted. “56 years, Erin! For 56 years, I was the only one expressing any kind of romance. I invite you on dates. I buy flowers. I buy gifts. I do EVERYTHING! And you simply take everything and give nothing back!”
Erin’s mouth dropped at her husband’s words, but Mike didn’t stick around to see it and went out for a walk to cool down.
Meanwhile, she slumped on the kitchen table and thought back to their marriage. Mike was not entirely wrong. She never asked him on dates or bought him much. Erin could excuse her behavior, saying that they were born in a different time, where the men made all the effort in the romance aspect. But that was a cheap cop-out.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Erin thought maintaining their home, cooking, and raising their children was enough. But their kids had moved away many years ago. She still cleaned and cooked, but clearly, her husband had all the pressure of keeping their spark alive. That was unfair to him, so Erin decided to change a few things.
When Mike returned, she asked him on a date and was going to pay. However, her husband refused.
“I don’t want to do that right now,” he said, going to their room and barely speaking to her that night.
Fair enough, Erin thought. Mike was angry at her, but she could be patient and wait for his anger to subside.
Unfortunately, nothing she did appeased him. Mike would not accept her tries at romantic gestures and grew angry every time she insisted. Erin bought him some flowers at one point, and he frowned at them.
“These are more for you, right?” Mike asked, still frowning and quirking one eyebrow. “You don’t have to keep doing these things, Erin. We are already too old for this.”
“What do you mean? I’m trying to give back what I haven’t in 56 years. Why can’t you accept it?” Erin snapped back, raising her hands at her sides. She was completely confused by his attitude now. Wasn’t this was he asked for?
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Because this is not what I wanted. I just want us to relax and stop trying so hard. We’re old. We’ve had more than enough romance in our lives. Now, it’s time to just… be,” Mike replied, giving her the flowers back and going to the porch for a smoke.
Erin looked at him sitting outside, and her heart broke. She couldn’t deal with it. She didn’t understand why he suddenly didn’t want any romance. Is there an expiration date for love? Erin thought glumly, walking back to her room.
She tried to make this new arrangement work, but it was hard. Mike didn’t kiss or hug her as often. Suddenly, she was also shy around him. That had not happened in half a century. Two months passed since then, and it simply wasn’t working.
Therefore, Erin asked him for a divorce. She couldn’t live with someone she didn’t love.
Mike was shocked but agreed to move while Erin stayed in their house. Their son, Henry, took him in, although this new arrangement concerned the rest of their children. Their two daughters, Alexandra and Marissa, tried to change Erin’s mind, but their mother was determined.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“If the romance is over, there’s no reason to be married,” she told her girls stubbornly. Shortly after, Erin filed for divorce, and a few months later, it was finalized.
Mike was still at Henry’s house when the landline rang. Henry’s wife answered and suddenly exclaimed, “What?!”
The older man looked up from his novel, focusing on his son’s wife, as she turned to look at him with the most concerned expression on her face. “Ok, we’ll be right there,” she said to the phone and hung up. “Mike, we have to go to the hospital. Erin just had a heart attack!”
Mike’s eyes widened in surprise before he went into action. He rushed to his jacket, throwing his book and reading glasses away.
When they reached the hospital, the doctor explained that Erin was alright but couldn’t move much. Mike sat down beside her and never left. He hand-fed her and kept her company. When she was discharged, he refused to leave their house, claiming that he was there to help.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
But Henry, Marissa, and Alexandra knew the truth. Their dad was back home because he loved their mother and never stopped despite the divorce. Soon enough, the flowers and the romantic gestures kept coming again.
And when Erin got better, she returned the gestures so that Mike would never feel slighted ever again. They rekindled their romance and remarried on what would’ve been their original 58th anniversary.
What can we learn from this story?
- Reciprocation is essential in any relationship. Both partners must work hard to maintain a relationship.
- Find out your spouse’s love language. Some people love giving gifts, and others prefer acts of service. It’s crucial to find out what your partner likes before creating problems.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
For My Birthday, My Husband Gave Me a Scale – A Year Later, I Gave Him the Ultimate Revenge Gift
For my 35th birthday, my husband handed me a beautifully wrapped box and a smug grin. Inside was a gift that shattered my confidence and lit a fire in me. A year later, I delivered a surprise of my own, one that left him begging for forgiveness.
The house buzzed with laughter and chatter. Balloons in soft pastels floated near the ceiling, and a “Happy Birthday” banner stretched across the living room. Plates of snacks and cake slices sat on every table.
A table set for a formal dinner | Source: Pexels
My kids ran around, giggling, their faces sticky with frosting. Friends and family filled the room, glasses clinking in celebration.
“Okay, okay! Everyone quiet!” my husband, Greg, called out, raising his phone. He grinned as he started recording. “The birthday girl is about to open her gift!”
I smiled nervously, my heart pounding. Greg wasn’t usually one for surprises, so this had to be something special.
A woman smiling during her birthday dinner | Source: Midjourney
He handed me a box wrapped in glittery paper. “Go on, babe,” he said, giving me an encouraging nod.
“What is it?” I asked, holding the box carefully. It wasn’t very heavy, but it had some weight to it.
“Open it and find out!” Greg said, still filming.
I tore at the paper, revealing a sleek black box. I opened it, my smile freezing as I stared inside. A digital bathroom scale gleamed up at me.
A bathroom scale | Source: Pexels
“Wow,” I said, forcing a laugh. “A weighing scale?”
“Yes!” Greg exclaimed, laughing loudly. “No more ‘big-boned’ excuses, babe. Just figures!”
The room went quiet, save for a few nervous chuckles. My cheeks burned. I glanced around at the guests, who avoided eye contact. I did put on a lot of weight while carrying our third baby and didn’t have any time to lose it while breastfeeding and managing the house.
A sad woman at a formal dinner table | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “This is… thoughtful.”
Greg clapped his hands. “I knew you’d love it!” he said, oblivious to my discomfort.
That night, after the guests left, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as my husband snored beside me, oblivious.
I thought back to his laughter and the way everyone had looked at me. The shame was unbearable.
A sleepless woman in bed | Source: Midjourney
But then another feeling rose—anger.
“This isn’t how it ends,” I said aloud, wiping my tears. “I’ll show him. He’ll regret this.”
The next morning, I laced up my old sneakers. “Just a walk,” I told myself. “One mile. You can manage that.”
A woman in athletic wear | Source: Freepik
The air was crisp as I stepped outside. My muscles ached from lack of use, and my feet protested with every step. As I trudged along the sidewalk, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window. My heart sank.
“This is pointless,” I thought, slowing down. “What difference can one walk make?”
A woman standing on a street | Source: Midjourney
But then, I remembered Greg’s laugh and those cruel words. My hands clenched into fists. “One walk is a start,” I told myself firmly. “Just keep going.”
I came home sweaty and exhausted, but a tiny spark of pride warmed me. The next day, I did it again. And the day after that.
A woman exercising by the water | Source: Freepik
I began swapping my sugary morning coffee for green tea. At first, it tasted like warm grass, but I stuck with it. Instead of chips, I snacked on apple slices. It wasn’t easy. The kids’ snacks called to me from the pantry, and the temptation to quit nagged at me.
One night, as I stared at the chocolate bar Greg had left on the counter, I whispered, “No. This isn’t who I want to be anymore.” I grabbed a handful of almonds instead.
A woman stretching her hand out to grab a chocolate bar | Source: Midjourney
Two months in, I was walking two miles a day. My pace quickened, and my breath no longer came in ragged gasps. My scale showed that I’d lost seven pounds. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
I decided to try yoga. A YouTube video promised “gentle stretches for beginners,” but 10 minutes in, I was sweating buckets and cursing the instructor’s calm voice. Still, I kept at it, laughing at myself when I toppled over during tree pose.
A woman in a yoga class | Source: Freepik
“Mom, you look funny!” my youngest giggled, pointing at me.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said with a grin. “I feel funny, too.”
As the weeks passed, my body grew stronger. I noticed my clothes fitting better. A friend I hadn’t seen in months stopped me at the grocery store.
“Wow, you look amazing!” she said, her eyes wide. “What’s your secret?”
“Just taking care of myself,” I replied, feeling a glow of pride.
A woman in a grocery store | Source: Pexels
By the time my youngest started daycare, I was ready for the next step. I joined a gym and signed up for a personal trainer. The first session was brutal. I felt out of place among the sleek, fit women lifting weights with ease. But my trainer, a kind woman named Emma, encouraged me.
“Everyone starts somewhere,” she said. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.”
A fitness class | Source: Pexels
Six months in, my transformation was undeniable. The scale showed I’d lost 30 pounds, but the real victory was how I felt. I could chase my kids around without gasping for air. My arms, once soft and weak, were now strong and toned.
One afternoon, while shopping for new clothes, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. For the first time in years, I smiled at my reflection. “You did this,” I whispered. “You’re incredible.”
A woman smiling at her reflection | Source: Pexels
Strangers began complimenting me. A barista at my favorite café said, “You have such a glow about you!” My confidence soared.
That’s when I decided to take it further. I enrolled in a fitness trainer certification course. It was tough juggling classes, workouts, and motherhood, but I was determined. I wanted to help other women feel as empowered as I did.
A woman working out | Source: Pexels
The day I passed my final exam, I celebrated with my kids. “Mom’s a trainer now!” I announced, pulling them into a hug.
“You’re the strongest mom ever,” my oldest said, beaming up at me.
“No,” I said, smiling. “I’m just the happiest.”
A woman hugging her son | Source: Pexels
As I hung my certificate on the wall, I thought back to where it all began. The scale Greg had given me still sat in the bathroom, but it no longer held power over me. It was just a tool, not a measure of my worth.
My journey wasn’t over, but I had become stronger.
A laughing woman | Source: Pexels
Greg didn’t notice me at first. For months, he came home late, barely glancing in my direction as he settled into his usual spot on the couch. But then, after I lost nearly 40 pounds and started wearing clothes that hugged my toned figure, something shifted.
One evening, as I served dinner, he looked up from his phone. “You’re really looking great these days, babe,” he said, a sly grin spreading across his face.
A man working in his living room | Source: Pexels
“Thanks,” I replied curtly, not bothering to meet his eyes.
Over the next few weeks, his compliments came frequently. “I always knew you had it in you,” he said one morning, watching me prepare a smoothie. “Guess my little push worked, huh?”
I froze, the blender’s hum momentarily drowning out his words. A “push”? That gift—his thoughtless, humiliating scale—wasn’t a push. It was a shove into pain and shame. I kept my face neutral and sipped my drink, but inside, I simmered.
A woman with a blender | Source: Pexels
Soon, Greg began inviting me out to dinner. “Let’s reconnect,” he suggested. He bragged about my transformation to his friends, saying, “She couldn’t have done it without me.” His words turned my stomach.
I realized his sudden attention was about control. He saw me as his accomplishment, his trophy. But I wasn’t anyone’s trophy. Not anymore.
An angry woman in a green sweater | Source: Pexels
As Greg’s birthday approached, I knew exactly what I would give him. I bought a box the same size as the one he had handed me a year ago. I even used the same glittery wrapping paper.
His birthday party was a small gathering at home, just a few friends and relatives. I set the wrapped box on the table and smiled sweetly. “Here’s your gift, Greg. I hope you like it.”
A man receiving a gift box | Source: Pexels
His face lit up as he tore into the wrapping paper. When he lifted the lid and saw the crisp stack of divorce papers, his smile vanished.
“What…what is this?” he stammered, his hands trembling.
“Figures, babe,” I said calmly. “No more ‘married excuses.’ I filed for divorce.”
The room fell silent. Greg’s face turned pale, and then bright red. He stood, knocking his chair back. “You’re joking, right? This is a joke!”
A shocked man in a red polo | Source: Pexels
“No joke,” I replied, standing tall. “You made me feel small, Greg. You didn’t believe in me, but I believed in myself. And now, I’m done.”
He dropped to his knees, his voice pleading. “Please, don’t do this! I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was all a misunderstanding. You’re amazing now—all thanks to me!”
I shook my head, my voice steady. “No, Greg. It’s thanks to me. I’m stronger than you ever gave me credit for.”
An angry woman with her hands crossed | Source: Freepik
I grabbed my gym bag, my heart lighter than it had been in years. I walked past the stunned faces of the guests, out the door, and into the crisp evening air.
That week, I moved into my new apartment, filled with light and warmth.
For the first time in years, I felt free. And that was the greatest gift of all.
A smiling woman in an orchard | Source: Pexels
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