My Husband Said He’d ‘Handle Dinner’ on Our Anniversary—Then Ordered Takeout for Himself and Forgot I Was Home

Last Thursday marked our 10th wedding anniversary.

Ten years of me handling everything—sick kids, vacations, birthdays, holidays. Even our anniversary dinners? Always me. This year, though, I just wanted to feel seen. I wanted him to think of me, without reminders.

A week before, I asked gently, “Any plans for our anniversary?”

Without looking up from his phone, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got dinner covered.”

I let myself hope.

That day, I worked from home, checking the time, waiting for flowers, a sweet message—anything. At 4 p.m., I got dressed: red dress, lipstick, heels. I waited upstairs, imagining a surprise dinner.

By 7:00? Nothing.

Then the doorbell rang.

Hope surged.

I heard plastic bags… smelled fast food. He walked in with a burrito bowl, kicked off his shoes, turned on the game. I stepped into the hallway.

“Where’s mine?” I asked.
“Oh. I forgot you were home,” he said. “Order something. It’s not too late.”

He saw the dress. The makeup. And still… nothing.

So I grabbed my coat and left.

I ended up at my favorite Italian restaurant—alone, but finally at peace. Candlelight, wine, soft music. The waiter smiled and said, “Good for you.”

I raised my glass.

To ten years.
To remembering my worth.
To never again settling for someone who forgets I’m even in the room.