Andre Soto

His birthday arrived. I woke up early, dressed for work like any other day, and started making coffee. Dani came downstairs wearing his favorite shirt, clearly expecting something special. "Good morning," I said, without looking up from my phone. "It's my birthday," he said, waiting for my reaction. I looked up, pretended to think for a second, and then snapped my fingers. "Oh, yeah! Happy birthday, honey. Have a good day at work." His face went through about five different emotions: confusion, hurt, anger, and then some weird panic. "That's it? You're not taking the day off? We don't have any dinner plans?" I shrugged as I grabbed my keys. "I've been really busy with work lately." I really haven't had time to plan anything. When I got home that night, he was sitting at the kitchen table looking defeated. "You really forgot my birthday," he said quietly. "I didn't forget," I replied. "I just thought if birthdays aren't important enough to remember without reminders, then maybe we shouldn't make such a big deal about them." The realization hit him like a truck. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally said, "This is for your birthday, right? What about my birthday?" I asked innocently. He threw his hands up in the air. "I've been a complete idiot." "Yeah," I said, "you have. "
The next morning, I woke up to rose petals leading from our bedroom to the kitchen. There, she had prepared my favorite breakfast and placed a jewelry box next to my coffee. Inside was a necklace exactly like the one my mother had lost.
—I know I can't undo the last three years —he said—, but I swear I'll never forget it.

For three years straight, Andre forgot my birthday with lame excuses, while he remembers every sports stat since 1995 and has alarms for everything, even watering his plants. It seemed pathetic to drop hints: if someone loves you, they remember what matters to you without you having to ask. This year, I decided to try something. I left obvious clues, he ignored them all, and my birthday passed without him even saying "happy birthday." So I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. A month later, on his actual birthday, I acted like it was just another day and went to work. When I got back, I found him in the kitchen, devastated after getting a taste of his own medicine. Will he learn his lesson, or is this the end?