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October 2013. We didn’t know at the time that it was the last time we would be celebrating our anniversary.

We left the kids with my sister and went on a weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe. Lake Tahoe in October is gorgeous.

We had a rough October. We had a rough weekend. He complained nonstop, wishing aloud that he could have spent the weekend with his friends celebrating their birthdays instead of celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary. I was angry and offended.

We barely spoke to each other the entire weekend. Things were tense.

A couple nights after we’d returned home, he walked into the living room and tossed his anniversary card to me onto the coffee table while I sat on the couch. He said shortly, “The kids picked it out” then turned and walked out.

I didn’t open it immediately and then forgot about it.

I found it a couple months later and opened it. No name on the outside of the card. No writing inside the card. It was one of those cards that played music when you opened it.

What bothered me is that he had stuffed a blank store-bought card inside an envelope and sealed it.

The level of passive aggression cut me like a knife. This was my anniversary card. This was a card that showed more love from my kids, who picked it out at the store, than from my husband, who simply paid for it and shoved it into an envelope.

Who would do something like that? Who would give someone an anniversary card without writing anything in it?

I bawled like a baby.

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