e depois daqui a 8 anos vão fazer um filme sobre o soldado americano que ficou com depressão após lançar o missil que matou 150 crianças no irão e vai ser nomeado para oscar
My husband has been lying to me for years.
Ever since we started dating, whenever we order pancakes and they come with strawberries on top, he always pushes the strawberries onto my plate. I never questioned it. I just assumed he didn’t like them.
On one of our first brunch dates, I remember picking all the strawberries off my stack first. He noticed. After that, every single time, his strawberries somehow ended up with mine.
It became routine. He’d slide them over. I’d eat them. I genuinely believed he hated strawberries.
The other weekend, we went out for breakfast again. Feeling playful, I lifted one off my plate and said, “Do you want one?”
Without thinking, he said, “Yeah,” and ate it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I stared at him. “Wait… you like strawberries?”
He laughed. “Of course I do.”
“So why have you been giving me yours for years?”
He shrugged and said, “Because i know you love them. And I love watching you enjoy them.”
And just like that my heart just melted, because for years I whole-heartedly believed this man hated strawberries.
But no.
He loves them.
He just loves me more.
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