You and Simon lounged on the couch, the dim light of the TV flickering around you.

“I can’t believe Jess got that surprise memory box from Derek,” you said, trying to spark a conversation.

Simon scoffed, his expression shifting to disdain. “A memory box? Seriously? It’s just a bunch of pictures and trinkets. It’s tacky. Why print photos when they’re on your phone? It’s just clutter.”

You chuckled nervously, sensing the bite in his tone. “I guess it’s sentimental…”

“Sentimental?” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. What’s the point? It’s not like anyone actually cares about those things. Derek should’ve gotten her something she actually wanted.”

You stayed quiet, discomfort settling in your stomach. Simon often dismissed sentimental gestures, and it stung a bit.

Later that evening, as you went to check on the surprise memory box you’d been secretly making for him, your heart sank. It was gone, replaced by a trash bag with the box peeking out.

“What are you doing?” Simon asked, standing in the doorway, confusion on his face.

“I was going to surprise you with this,” you stammered, holding the half-finished box tight against your chest.

His expression shifted to annoyance. “You were making a memory box? Seriously? I’m not interested in that kind of stuff.”

You felt your heart drop. “But I thought you might appreciate it…”

“I just don’t see the point,” he replied dismissively, crossing his arms.

You looked down at the scattered items, hurt washing over you. “This was meant to be personal. I wanted it to mean something to you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not my thing.”

Silence hung in the air as you took a step back, feeling the weight of his words. You had wanted to share something meaningful, but instead, you felt rejected.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just thought it would be nice.”