Lila loved her birthday, not for big gifts, but for the thought behind them. This year, though, her husband Mark handed her a cheap bottle of shower gel—lavender-scented, a fragrance he knew she hated. They weren’t struggling for money; he could’ve at least gotten flowers, her favorite. Hurt and angry, Lila poured the gel down the toilet, tears streaming down her face. When Mark came home, cheerful and clueless, he asked, “Did you…?” She cut him off, her voice trembling. “I hated it, Mark. I flushed it.” For the first time that day, he saw her pain—and realized how little he’d been paying attention.
