It took me three years loving Ryan, thinking our anniversary would be the night he finally proposed.

He even made dinner reservations at a fancy downtown spot and told me to dress up for a “special surprise.”

I curled my hair, got my nails done, wore the emerald dress he loved, and convinced myself this was it — the moment.

But instead of a ring, dessert arrived with a plate that read: “Congrats on Your Promotion!” Only… I hadn’t gotten the promotion.

In fact, I’d just been passed over — for a guy I mentored — all because of the quiet office gossip that I was “probably about to get married and pregnant.”

I’d told Ryan how hurtful it was. He knew.

But there he was, grinning at the fake celebration he’d staged.

“It’s just to manifest it,” he said. “Lighten the mood. Positive vibes, babe.”

Feeling humiliated and furious, I paid for my meal and left him there.

After days of silence, I made a decision if he thought that was funny, I’d show him what a real joke looked like.

I threw a party at my place and invited his friends too.

As Ryan walked in, he was greeted with black and gold balloons, a banner that read: “Congrats on Going Bald!” and a cake just like the one at the restaurant — this time piped with: “Manifesting It Early!” His jaw dropped. “You think this is funny?!” I smiled. “Didn’t you?” He stormed out.

Some of his friends were sh0cked, others laughed.

One of them stayed behind — Zach.

“That was one of the best comebacks I’ve ever seen,” he said. Then added, “For the record, I always thought you deserved better.” He asked me out before he left. I smiled.

“Only if you promise not to fake-celebrate anything about my career.” He laughed. “Deal.”

And just like that, the night I thought would be a proposal… turned out to be my liberation.