Social media has a way of creeping into your life, becoming a part of your relationships, whether you like it or not. It’s harmless for the most part — cute pictures and updates for friends and family. But sometimes, things take a turn you never see coming.
Mark and I had been together for almost a year. Honestly, he was the perfect boyfriend. Sweet, caring, and always making me laugh, whether we were out hiking or just watching TV on a lazy Sunday. I felt so lucky to have him in my life. So, I figured it was time to make things official on Facebook.
A happy couple on a hike | Source: Midjourney
We were on a hiking trail one afternoon when we snapped a picture together. It was cute — us smiling with the sun shining behind us. “Just me and my favorite person on our latest adventure!” I captioned it, adding a couple of heart emojis. I shared the post, excited to share a bit of our happiness with the world.
Then, ten minutes later, I got a notification that made my stomach drop. It wasn’t a like or a comment. It was a message: “YOU MUST RUN FROM HIM. NOW.”
A shocked woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
I stared at my phone, my heart pounding. Who would send something like that? I clicked on the profile, hoping for some clue, but there was nothing — no info, no pictures, just a blank, empty page. The message itself was terrifying enough, but this? It was like a ghost had sent it.
I glanced at Mark, who was busy tossing our backpacks into the car, completely unaware of the storm building inside me. Should I tell him?
An unknown man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
My mind raced, but before I could even process what was happening, another message popped up: “Don’t tell Mark anything. Listen carefully. Smile, don’t be aggressive with him. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You got it?”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. What was this? Who was sending these messages? And why were they so certain I was in danger?
A concerned young woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
I looked over at Mark again. He waved at me with that same easy smile he always had. He didn’t look dangerous. But the messages had a strange kind of urgency, and they scared me enough that I decided to play along, at least for now.
I forced a smile and walked over to him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Ready to go?”
“Everything okay?” Mark asked, his eyes searching mine.
A concerned man on the couch | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah, it’s just my mom. I’ll text her later.”
That night, I couldn’t shake the messages. They replayed in my mind over and over, making me question everything. Mark had always been so sweet, so loving. But what if… what if I didn’t really know him? What if there was something darker beneath the surface?
A sleepless woman in her bed | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few days, things only got worse. I’d catch him staring at me, not saying anything, just watching. It was unsettling. One night, I was reading on the couch, and when I looked up, there he was, his eyes locked on me. When I asked if everything was okay, he shrugged like it was no big deal. But it felt like a big deal.
A young suspicious man | Source: Midjourney
Then, one morning, my phone buzzed with another message from the same anonymous profile: “Meet me at Bayou Bakery tomorrow at 2 p.m. I’ll give you the evidence. Don’t tell Mark. Make up an excuse.”
My hands were shaking as I read it. Evidence? Of what? What could they possibly have on him? I needed to know. But how could I lie to Mark? What if he was watching me too closely? What if he already suspected something?
A secret figure writing a message | Source: Midjourney
“I’m meeting my mom for lunch tomorrow,” I said casually over breakfast, trying not to let my voice tremble.
Mark didn’t look up from his coffee right away. “Really? You didn’t mention it before.”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied quickly, my heart racing. “She called last night. Last minute thing.”
Mark finally met my eyes, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said slowly.
I tried to focus on my coffee, but all I could feel was the weight of his gaze as if he was trying to see straight through me.
A man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
The next day, I left the house. As I slipped out the door, I could feel Mark’s eyes on me. I tried to act normal, but my stomach was in knots. Every time I looked back at him, there was that same unreadable look on his face. Was he suspicious? Did he know something was wrong?
I got to Bayou Bakery early. My heart was pounding as I sat at a small table near the window. The smell of coffee and fresh pastries did nothing to calm my nerves. Every time the door opened, I jumped, expecting to see someone mysterious with the answers to all my questions.
A woman sitting in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
But ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Nothing.
I stared at my phone, wondering if this had all been some kind of cruel joke. Just as I was about to leave, the door swung open again, and my heart nearly stopped. It was Mark.
“Ellie?” His voice was cautious, confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting your mom.”
A shocked man in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
My throat went dry. “I… I thought you were at work. What are you doing here?”
He walked over and sat down across from me, his eyes scanning the room. “I got a message. Someone told me to come here. They said I needed to see something about you.”
My head was spinning. “You got a message? About me?”
He nodded, his face full of uncertainty. “Yeah. I didn’t believe it at first, but then you started acting weird. I didn’t know what to think.”
A woman talking to her boyfriend in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
I stared at him, my pulse racing. This whole time, he had been receiving the same kind of messages I had. It didn’t make any sense. Why would someone do this to us?
Before we could say another word, the door to the bakery opened again. I looked up, and there was Andrew, one of our mutual friends, grinning like a fool. He walked straight over to our table and pulled up a chair like he had been waiting for this moment all along.
A happy redhead man walking into a cafe | Source: Midjourney
“Surprise!” he said with a smirk.
Mark and I just gaped at him, completely bewildered.
“Andrew, what the hell is going on?” I demanded, my voice shaking with anger.
Andrew leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Relax. It was just a prank. Well, more like a test.”
“A test?” Mark’s tone was ice-cold. “You scared the hell out of us, Andrew. Why would you do something like that?”
a shocked man sitting in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
Andrew shrugged, looking a little less smug now. “I’ve seen too many relationships fall apart because of rumors, lies, and social media drama. I wanted to see if you two really trusted each other.”
I felt my blood boil. “You sent those messages? You made me think Mark was dangerous, and now you’re sitting here like it’s no big deal?”
An angry woman talking to her friend | Source: Midjourney
Andrew held up his hands. “Okay, okay, maybe I went too far. But seriously, Ellie. Mark. Instead of coming to each other and talking about it, you both followed some anonymous messages. What does that say about your relationship?”
I glanced at Mark, and he looked just as furious as I felt. But there was something else there too — an uncomfortable truth. Andrew had a point, even if it was buried under layers of cruelty.
An uncomfortable man | Source: Midjourney
The rest of the conversation was tense. Andrew apologized, though it didn’t feel like enough. He explained that he’d been curious to see if we would trust each other when faced with something scary, or if we’d go behind each other’s backs.
And while we were furious at him for putting us through that, there was a part of me that realized how much the situation had revealed.
A redhead man sitting in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
When Mark and I left the bakery, neither of us said much at first. The shock of the whole thing was still settling in, but the weight of what we’d just experienced wasn’t lost on me.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you think Andrew’s right?”
Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hate to admit it, but maybe. I mean, we didn’t talk to each other. We let a few anonymous messages get in our heads.”
A couple talking on the street | Source: Midjourney
We both knew trust was something that couldn’t be taken for granted. And while Andrew’s prank was cruel, it showed us that the only way to keep our relationship strong was to face our fears and doubts head-on — together.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Boyfriend Proposed Right After Seeing My Luxury Apartment—He Had No Idea It Was a Test
When Sloane finally lets her boyfriend see her luxurious penthouse, he proposes the next day. But when a sudden “disaster” strikes, his loyalty crumbles. What he doesn’t know? It’s all a test… and she’s been watching closely. This is a story about power, love, and the moment a woman chooses herself.
I don’t usually play games, especially with people.
But something about Ryan’s timing felt too polished, too sudden… like he’d skipped a few pages in our story and jumped to the part where I say “yes” with stars in my eyes.
A pensive woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Spoiler: I did say yes. Just not for the reason he thought.
We met eight months ago at a dive bar downtown, one of those dimly lit places where the cocktails are all whiskey-based and the bartenders wear suspenders like it’s a religion.
Ryan had an easy smile, a firm handshake, and eyes that lingered just long enough to be charming, not creepy. We talked about everything that night, late 20s burnout, startup dreams, childhood regrets.
The interior of a dive bar | Source: Midjourney
He was smart. Charismatic. Ambitious in a restless, surface-level kind of way. And when he kissed me outside under a busted neon sign that blinked like it couldn’t decide what mood it was in, I thought that maybe this could be something.
And it was. For a while.
But here’s the thing about charm, it can start to sound like a script.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
By our third month together, I noticed the patterns. We always went to his apartment. A cramped one-bedroom in a building that smelled faintly of incense and despair.
He called it “charming.” I called it “no hot water after 10.”
Ryan always paid for dinner but only if we ate somewhere cheap. He talked about “tired gold-diggers” and “materialistic women” like it was a rehearsed speech he knew well. I started realizing that he spent a lot of time talking about what he didn’t want in a partner and very little time asking me what I wanted.
What Ryan didn’t know?
The interior of a fast food place | Source: Midjourney
Two years ago, I sold my AI-powered wellness startup to a tech giant for seven figures. I’d spent my early 20s living on instant ramen and building backend code between shifts at a co-writing space that smelled like ambition and burnt coffee.
The acquisition was clean, and I reinvested most of it. Between that, advisory roles, and a few early crypto plays I cashed out of just in time, I was more than fine. Now, I worked at another tech company, helping build them up and keep myself busy.
But I never dressed the part. I drove my old car because it had been my father’s and he had passed it down to me. I wore clothes that weren’t name brands but fit well on my body. And I hadn’t brought Ryan home because I needed to know who he was before he saw what I had.
A bowl of ramen | Source: Midjourney
By the sixth month, I invited him to my place.
“Finally, Sloane,” Ryan grinned as he stepped out of the car. “I was starting to think that you were hiding a secret family or something.”
The doorman, Joe, greeted me by name, smiling warmly.
“Sloane, welcome home,” he said, tipping his hat.
A smiling doorman | Source: Midjourney
Ryan glanced at him, then back to me, eyebrows raised. I didn’t say anything. I just tapped the button for the private elevator and stepped inside. The doors slid shut with a whisper.
When they opened again, we were in my apartment. My sanctuary. Light poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline glittered like it had dressed up for the occasion. My living room was clean and quiet, the kind of quiet that came with double-insulated glass and peace that money can buy.
He didn’t step in at first. He just stood there, staring.
An elevator in a foyer | Source: Midjourney
“This is… wow, Sloane,” he said finally. “You live here?!”
“Yeah,” I said, slipping off my heels and placing them on a mat I’d imported from Tokyo. “Not bad, right? Comfortable.”
He walked in slowly, like he was afraid to touch anything but couldn’t help himself. His fingertips dragged across the marble countertops. He opened the wine fridge, Sub-Zero, custom installed, and nodded to himself.
“Not too shabby,” he said.
A wine fridge in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Ryan continued to walk around, stopping at one of the abstract canvases hanging over the fireplace.
“How much is that one worth?” he asked.
I shrugged but I was watching him now. Closely.
He didn’t ask to sit down. He just kept moving. His eyes lingered on the custom couch, on the Eames chair in the corner, the fridge that synced with my sommelier app to suggest pairings based on what I had chilled.
A chair in the living room of a penthouse | Source: Midjourney
He didn’t kiss me that night. He barely touched my arm or leg, something that he had done all the time. Instead, he just kept smiling that dazed, boyish smile… like he’d stumbled into a fairytale and didn’t want to wake up.
And one week later, he proposed.
Ryan and I hadn’t really talked about marriage. Not in the way you do when you’re building a future. No deep conversations about kids or biological clocks or timelines, no dreamy what-if scenarios over wine.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
Just vague nods to “someday” and offhand comments about “building something together.”
It always felt like a placeholder, not a plan.
So when he showed up a week later, standing in my living room with a ring box in one hand and nervous energy leaking from every pore, I blinked.
Unaware. But also… not surprised.
A ring box on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
Ryan launched into a speech. He went on about knowing when you’ve found the one. About how life’s too short to wait or waste time. Something about seizing the moment when the universe gives you a sign.
I smiled. I pretended to be surprised. I said yes. I even kissed him.
But something inside me stayed still.
A smiling woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Because what he didn’t know was that Jules, my best friend, had seen him the day after his jaw dropped when he saw my penthouse.
She’d called me from the mall.
“He’s at the jewelry counter,” she said, whispering. “Sloane, he’s literally pointing at rings like he’s late for something. He’s not even looking at them properly! Girl, are you sure about him? He’s going to propose soon. I can feel it from his energy.”
A ring display at a jewelry store | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t know how to answer her. I cared for Ryan, sure. But did I love him?
Knowing what I knew, the proposal wasn’t romantic at all.
It was strategic. So yeah, I said yes. But not because I was in love. Because I needed to know if he was.
Did Ryan want a life with me? Or did he want a lifestyle that came with a marble kitchen and a fridge smarter than most people?
I needed to be sure.
A romantic table setting | Source: Midjourney
So I smiled, slid the ring on, and started planning the trap.
One week later, I called him in tears.
“Ryan?” I sniffled, letting just enough panic bleed into my voice. “I got fired. They said it was restructuring but I don’t know… Everything’s just… falling apart.”
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
There was a pause. Just a beat too long.
“Oh… wow. That’s… unexpected,” he said slowly, like his brain was trying to pull the words out of sludge.
“I know,” I whispered. “And to make it worse… the apartment? My goodness! A pipe burst. There’s water damage everywhere. The wooden floors are ruined in the guest room. It’s unlivable.”
A close up of a burst pipe | Source: Midjourney
More silence. Thick, heavy silence. And then a throat clearing.
“Unlivable?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what you think it means, Ryan. I’m staying with Jules for now. Just until I figure things out.”
This time, the silence stretched.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I sat cross-legged on my leather sofa, bone dry, of course, twisting my hair into a loose, anxious knot for effect. I imagined him on the other end, blinking stupidly, recalculating.
The ring.
The “forever” speech.
The skyline he’d mentally moved into.
“I… I didn’t expect this, Sloane,” he finally said, his voice having lost all its lustre. “Maybe we should… slow things down. Rebuild. You know, get stable before we move forward.”
A woman sitting on a couch wearing a fluffy sweater | Source: Midjourney
“Right,” I murmured, just above a whisper, letting my breath hitch like I was trying not to cry. This was it… this was Ryan refusing to see me. This was Ryan blatantly showing me that he didn’t care.
“I get it,” I said.
The next morning, he texted me.
“I think we moved too fast. Let’s take some space, Sloane.”
No calls. No offers to help. He was just… gone.
A cellphone on a table | Source: Midjourney
I waited three days.
And then I called him. It was a video call this time because some truths deserve a front-row seat.
Ryan answered the phone, looking like he hadn’t shaved or slept well. His hoodie was wrinkled and his voice came out rough.
“Sloane, hey…”
A close up of a tired man in a grey hoodie | Source: Midjourney
I was standing on the balcony, wearing my silk pajamas, barefoot against the warm stone tiles. I had a chilled glass of champagne on the side table next to me, and I was ready to put my heartache on hold.
And to teach Ryan a lesson, of course.
I didn’t smile. I just tilted the phone slightly.
A glass of champagne on a table | Source: Midjourney
“You’re back home?” he asked, hope sparking his eyes.
“I’m home,” I said simply. “But it’s funny, isn’t it?”
“What is, Sloane?” he asked, sighing like he was just so tired.
“That you vanished faster than the so-called flood in my apartment. Well, everything is fine. There was nothing wrong with my apartment. I just wanted to know if you truly cared about me… but I guess not, huh?”
A woman standing on a penthouse balcony | Source: Midjourney
His mouth opened, then closed.
“I got promoted too, by the way,” I added. My voice was steady, but my heart was hammering.
This was it.
This was the moment I ended it with Ryan. All those months of us getting to know each other, spending time together… all of that was over.
“Anyway,” I continued. “The CEO offered me the European expansion. I’ll have Paris on my doorstep. Big win for me, Ryan.”
A view of the Eiffel tower | Source: Midjourney
A flicker of shame crossed his face. Or maybe it was guilt. They often wear the same skin, don’t they?
“But thank you,” I continued, lifting the glass to my lips. “For showing me what ‘forever’ means to you. We clearly have different definitions of the word.”
“Sloane, wait… I…”
“No,” I said, my voice cracking on that word. I didn’t cover it. I let him hear the pain in my voice. “You don’t get to speak to me. Not now, not ever.”
A tired man with his eyes closed | Source: Midjourney
He blinked.
“You had your chance, Ryan. You had me. Before the skyline, before the stories, before the rushed proposal… And you let go the second it didn’t look easy for you.”
I held his gaze, just long enough to make it sting.
Then I ended the call.
Blocked. Deleted. Gone.
A side profile of a woman standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney
Jules came over that night with Thai food and zero judgment.
She didn’t ask questions. She just kicked off her shoes, handed me a container of spring rolls, and flopped onto the couch like she’d lived there in another life.
“He really thought he played you,” she said, unwrapping her chopsticks. “Meanwhile, you were three steps ahead, glass in hand.”
Thai food takeout on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
I gave her a half-smile, eyes still pulled toward the skyline. It looked the same as it always had, endless and glowing, but somehow… brighter. Maybe it was just me, finally seeing clearly.
“It’s weird,” I murmured. “I’m not even heartbroken, maybe a little bit. But I am… disappointed. Like I wanted him to pass the test, Jules. I really did. I was rooting for Ryan.”
“Girl,” she said, mouth full of noodles. “He didn’t even bring an umbrella to the storm. You made one phone call and he bailed like you were on fire. That man was in it for the perks, not the person.”
A carton of noodles | Source: Midjourney
I laughed, really laughed, but there was a lump in my throat anyway. Not for Ryan.
Rather for what I thought we could’ve been. For who I thought he might be.
“I think the worst part,” I said slowly. “Is knowing that he wouldn’t have survived the real storms. Like… if things actually got hard.”
Jules put her carton down and looked me dead in the eye.
“He’s not your storm shelter, babe,” she said. “He was just the weak roof you hadn’t tested yet.”
A pensive woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
And somehow, that landed harder than anything else.
People love to say, “You’ll know it’s real when things get hard.”
So, I made things look hard.
And what did he do?
A glum woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Ghosted me. Ran.
Because it was clear that Ryan wasn’t in love with me. He was in love with the idea of me, the lifestyle, the convenience, the curated illusion. But the second that cracked, even just a little, he folded.
Not everyone can handle the truth behind the shine.
But me? I’d rather be alone in a penthouse with my peace than hand over the keys to someone who only wanted the view.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
Real love isn’t about who stays when the lights are on. It’s about who holds you through the flicker. Ryan left before the first rumble of thunder.
And now?
I still have the view. The job that promises to take me places and the fridge that talks.
And most importantly?
I have the lesson.
So here’s to champagne, closure, and never again confusing potential with promise.
A glass of champagne | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
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