The Best Valentine Gift I Ever Received

Everyone had a boyfriend or girlfriend except me. When we met, they would talk endlessly about their partners—the sweet surprises, the thoughtful gestures, the love they received—and I had nothing to contribute. I was just having fun, free of attachment, but eventually, the peer pressure started to sink in.

I helped my friends plan surprises for their partners, selecting gifts, writing love notes, and organizing candlelit dinners. I watched their eyes light up as they spoke about their relationships, and it hit me—I was alone. It wasn't that I desperately wanted love, but I craved that connection, that feeling of being someone’s priority.

So I proposed to Kelly.

I didn’t even like her that much—not in the way one should when making such a choice. She was just a girl I found nice and undeniably beautiful, someone who was far out of my league. I never expected her to say yes, but to my utter surprise, she did—almost instantly.

I stood there in disbelief, but we proceeded with the relationship. I wasn’t deeply into her, but she, oh, she was into me. She showered me with love in ways I never knew were possible. She got me gifts on my birthday, spoke highly of me to everyone who would listen, and supported every crazy idea I had. She had this unwavering loyalty, the kind that made me realize I could commit the worst crime, and she’d stand beside me, asking, "Where do we hide the body?"

And that’s when the guilt began to creep in.

Her love was pure, and I knew she deserved better—someone who could return it just as fiercely. So I made up my mind to let her go.

It was days before my birthday when she excitedly told me she had a surprise planned. I wanted to tell her to cancel it, but she had already put so much effort into it. So I decided I would wait until after the celebration to end things.

But I made a mistake.

That night, I let myself get carried away. For the first time, I allowed myself to fully experience what she offered—her love, her warmth, her touch. We made love, and in that moment, something shifted. The next day, when I remembered my decision to break up with her, I realized I couldn’t. Not like that. It would be too cruel.

So I decided to wait a month.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

"Jay, I'm pregnant."

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless. I was working; I was stable enough to provide for a child, but was I ready? More importantly, did I want to be with her forever? I wasn’t sure.

Once again, I postponed the breakup, this time waiting for the child to be born. But things became harder. Her family was furious, demanding reparations for what they saw as dishonor. According to our culture, I owed them more than just an apology.

And yet, through it all, she defended me. She stood against her family for me. She never let me bear the burden alone. Her loyalty was unwavering.

As time passed, my conscience became a heavy weight on my chest. How could I not love her back? She was carrying my child, shielding me from attacks, and giving me a kind of devotion that felt otherworldly. Slowly, I softened.

I was by her side through the pains and joys of pregnancy. The sleepless nights, the sudden cravings, the tears, the laughter—I experienced it all with her. It wasn’t easy, but I got through it. We got through it.

And then, on Valentine’s Day, our baby girl was born.

The best gift I have ever received was her.

That tiny, fragile being changed everything for me. In her, I saw a future, a reason to be better, to love harder. And in Kelly, I saw the woman who had given me everything—even when I had nothing to give in return.

Now, Valentine will turn one on Valentine’s Day, and I plan to pop the question to her mother on that same day.