Yesterday was our third anniversary. All week, I believed Ryan would propose. He made a reservation at an upscale restaurant and hinted at a “special surprise.” I got glammed up in my emerald‑green dress, excited for what I was sure was coming.
But after a tense dinner—including wine, awkward nerves, and sweet compliments—dessert arrived with a chocolate cake reading, “Congrats on Your Promotion!” I froze. He’d orchestrated a fake celebration, embarrassing me in front of strangers. I stormed out after paying my share.
For three days, I ignored his texts. My friend Hannah said I needed a revenge party. So I arranged one and tricked Ryan into coming.
At my place, black-and-gold balloons and a cake proclaimed, “Congrats on Becoming Bald—Manifesting It Early!” His friends and mine laughed while he turned red and stormed out.
His friend Zach stuck around. “That was one of the best comebacks I’ve ever seen,” he said. We laughed—and suddenly, I’d won the last word.