My Husband Swore He Forgot to Gift Me the Perfume I Found in His Jacket, but the Next Day, My Sister Saw It and Said, ‘That’s My Favorite!’ – Story of the Day #4

I was just doing the damn laundry. But when I found a perfectly wrapped gift in Dale’s jacket, my gut told me to open it. A sleek bottle of perfume—expensive, feminine… and not my scent. My birthday had passed. No anniversary. No reason. So why did he have it? And who was it really for?

I wasn’t looking for trouble. I was just doing the damn laundry.

It’s not my favorite chore, but someone has to do it, and that someone is always me.

Every week, same routine—gather the clothes Dale left wherever he pleased, sort through the piles, and get to work.

I moved through the house, grabbing socks from under the couch, his jeans crumpled in the hallway, and then my eyes landed on his old brown jacket draped over the chair.

That jacket.

The one he never let me wash.

I frowned, hesitating for a second.

The thing was worn at the elbows, soft from years of use. It smelled like him—like faded cologne and the cigarettes he swore he only smoked when he was stressed.

I lifted it, about to toss it on the laundry pile, but something inside made a soft thud.

I stopped. Patted the fabric. There it was again—a small, firm shape tucked in the pocket.

Now, I’m not a snoop. At least, I wasn’t before. But something about the weight of it, the way it sat heavy in my hand, made my stomach twist.

My fingers curled around the edge of the pocket, and before I could think twice, I reached in.

What I pulled out made my breath hitch.

A small, perfectly wrapped box.

I turned it over, studying it. The paper was smooth with a neat little ribbon tied on top. The kind of wrapping that took effort. Thought.

My birthday was last week. Dale had already given me a necklace—nothing fancy, but sweet.

There were no upcoming anniversaries, no holidays, nothing that explained why this was hidden in his jacket.

I ran my thumb along the ribbon. My heartbeat picked up, pounding in my ears.

Maybe I should wait.

But my hands had a mind of their own. The ribbon slid off easily. The paper peeled back in a whisper.

A sleek perfume bottle gleamed up at me.

I stared. It was elegant, expensive-looking, definitely not the kind of thing Dale usually picked out.

I lifted it, turned it over, and spritzed a tiny bit on my wrist. The scent was floral, light, sophisticated.

Not my scent.

Not even close.

My fingers tightened around the bottle.

So if it wasn’t for me…

Who the hell was it for?

I kept the perfume on the counter, right in the center where Dale couldn’t miss it. Every time I walked past, my eyes landed on the sleek glass bottle, and my stomach tightened.

I had all day to think, to run through possible explanations, to convince myself there had to be a reasonable one.

Maybe he really had bought it for me and just forgot. Maybe he was planning a surprise and I’d just ruined it.

But none of it felt right.

Dale wasn’t the “extra gift” kind of guy. He barely remembered to wrap the ones he did give me.

The idea of him tucking something away for later, planning some delayed romantic gesture? That didn’t fit.

The door creaked open, and Dale stepped inside, stretching his arms like a man who’d had a long day and was ready to relax. He kicked off his boots and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey, babe.”

I didn’t answer. Just picked up the perfume bottle and held it up for him to see.

“This was in your jacket.”

He barely glanced at it. “Huh?”

I took a step closer. “This. The perfume. Want to explain?”

That’s when I saw it—the flicker of something across his face. A second of tension in his shoulders, the quick way his eyes darted to mine before he covered it up.

Then came the laugh, light and forced, as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, that? It’s for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly. “I, uh, meant to give it to you for your birthday, but I figured I’d wait. Y’know, surprise you later.”

I stared at him, at the way he shifted slightly like he wanted to step away, like he wanted this conversation over.

Dale wasn’t a liar, not really. But I knew when he was bending the truth. And this? This felt stretched.

Still, I kept my face neutral. If I pressed too hard now, he’d just double down. He’d turn it back on me—why was I going through his jacket? Why didn’t I trust him?

Instead, I took a breath, set the bottle back down on the counter, and nodded.

“Fine,” I said.

I let it go.

At least, I pretended to.

Claire breezed through my front door like she owned the place, as she always did.

No knock, no warning—just the jingling of keys and the thud of her purse hitting the counter.

“Hey, sis,” she called, kicking off her shoes. “Got any coffee?”

I sighed, but not in a real, annoyed way. Claire had been making herself at home since she moved back to town a few months ago, and at this point, I was used to it.

She flopped onto the couch like she had no bones, stretching her legs across the cushions.

“You should start paying rent,” I muttered, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Pfft. Consider my presence a gift.”

I rolled my eyes, pouring the coffee. Just as I was about to hand her a cup, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh my God!” Claire’s voice was high with excitement.

I turned to see what had caught her attention, and my stomach dropped.

She was holding it.

The perfume bottle.

“Is that Chéri Élégance?” she asked, practically bouncing in her seat.

I forced my voice to stay even. “Yeah,” I said. “Why?”

Claire’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. “I love this scent! I’ve been dreaming about it forever.”

She turned the bottle over in her hands, admiring it, pressing the cap like she was debating whether to spray it on herself right then and there.

Something twisted deep in my stomach.

I set the mugs down. “Where’d you get it?” she asked, still grinning.

I hesitated. Just for a second.

“Dale gave it to me,” I finally said. My voice came out steady, but I felt the words land in the air like a stone sinking into deep water.

Claire’s face lit up even more.

“No way! That’s wild—he was asking me about perfumes the other day. Like, really asking. I thought he was just making conversation, but—”

I stopped hearing her after that.

The air in the room shifted, pressing down on me. My vision tunneled, my heartbeat a dull thud in my ears.

Dale had been asking her about perfumes.

And she loved this one.

Claire’s birthday was in two weeks.

I looked at her, still chatting away, oblivious to the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

And suddenly, I knew.

I took a slow sip of my coffee, letting the warmth settle in my chest. My mind was already moving three steps ahead, but I kept my face calm, unreadable. Then, I smiled.

“You know what? You should have it.”

Claire blinked, holding the perfume bottle midair like she’d misheard me. “Wait, what?”

I nodded toward it. “The perfume. It’s not really my style. But if you love it…”

She looked down at the bottle, her fingers tracing the label. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s expensive. Dale got it for you.”

Something sharp and bitter curled in my chest at those words. Dale got it for me. Right.

I gave her my most casual shrug. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I barely wear perfume, and you’re obviously obsessed with it.”

Claire’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She knew me too well to think I was just being generous.

I picked up my coffee again, my voice light. “In fact, why don’t you stay for dinner?”

There. That was the moment she caught on.

Her smile stayed, but her eyes sharpened, scanning my face for a hint of what I was up to. “Dinner, huh?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Stay. Let’s eat together. Should be a nice little evening.”

She tapped her nails against the glass bottle. “Alright,” she said slowly, stretching out the word. “I’ll stay.”

Then I leaned in, resting my elbow on the table, dropping my voice low so only she could hear. I whispered a few words into her ear.

I watched as my sister’s expression shifted. First, confusion. Then, something else. Amusement.

She pulled back, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Oh,” she said, sitting back in her chair, her voice dripping with anticipation. “This is gonna be good.”

Dinner was nothing special. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, a salad nobody really touched.

The kind of meal you put together without much thought, just enough to fill the plates and move through the motions.

I stood at the counter, pouring drinks, while Claire leaned against the kitchen island, casually spritzing herself with the perfume.

She did it like she wasn’t thinking, but I knew better. She was setting the stage.

The front door creaked open. Dale stepped inside, tossing his keys onto the table, shaking the cold from his jacket.

“Hey, ladies,” he said, running a hand through his hair. His voice was easy, relaxed, like he hadn’t been caught hiding things in his pockets. “Smells good in here.”

I forced a smile. “Dinner’s ready.”

He slid into his seat across from Claire, grabbing his fork without a second thought. I sat down too, taking a slow sip of my wine, watching him.

And then Claire picked up the perfume bottle from the table. She turned it in her hands, admiring it, then held it up like a prize.

“Oh, I love this scent,” she said, loud and sweet. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

The sound of Dale’s fork scraping against his plate stopped.

I didn’t miss the way his shoulders tensed, how his fingers tightened just a little too hard around his glass.

Claire grinned, tilting her head. “You know, if a man ever gave me something this perfect, I think I’d fall in love on the spot.”

Dale’s jaw twitched.

I took another sip of wine, letting the moment stretch. Then, I smiled. “Don’t you think Dale has great taste, Claire? He picked it out himself.”

She sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Mmm. Wish I had a man who knew exactly what I liked.”

I glanced at Dale.

His face had gone pale. The color had drained completely, and his knuckles had turned white where he gripped his fork.

He swallowed, forcing a chuckle, but it sounded dry. Forced.

Claire lifted the perfume bottle again and spritzed a little more onto her wrist.

Dale watched her.

And then, just to twist the knife, I leaned back in my chair and murmured, “Excuse me a moment.”

I stood up, leaving my phone on the table.

A pause.

Then my footsteps, slow and deliberate, as I walked back into the room.

Claire was leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, looking entirely too satisfied.

Dale, though—Dale had a strange little smile, like he thought he could still talk his way out of this. Like maybe, just maybe, he could twist things in his favor.

I picked up my phone, stopped the recording, and hit play.

His voice filled the room, clear as day.

“Claire, I bought that for you. I wanted to surprise you. Because… because I love you.”

Silence.

Dale’s face drained of what little color he had left. “Maggie—”

I stood, my voice flat. “Pack your things. Now.”

His mouth opened, closed. “Mags, come on, you don’t mean—”

“I do.” I reached over, grabbed the perfume bottle, and shoved it into his hands. “And don’t forget this.”

Claire exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “Damn, Dale. You really are that guy, huh?”

Dale swallowed, looking at her, searching for something—sympathy, maybe.

“Claire, I—”

“Don’t.” She stood, grabbing her purse. “I need some air.”

She walked out without looking back.

Dale turned to me. For a second, just a second, I saw something like regret in his eyes. Or maybe it was just panic.

I folded my arms. “You’re still here?”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

And just like that, Dale knew he was out of chances.

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I spent my whole life believing my father had abandoned us without looking back. Then, after years of silence, he suddenly returned. I wanted nothing to do with him. But before I could walk away, he said something that shattered everything: “You need to know the truth about your mother.” Read the full story here.

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