After ten years of waiting for a proposal that never came, it wasn’t my boyfriend who popped the question—it was his mother, and she did it on social media. A fake engagement, an unexpected announcement, and then a quick cleanup to pretend it never happened. But if she wanted an engagement so badly, I figured it was time to give her one—on my own terms.
I was halfway through my second coffee, enjoying the calm, when a sharp knock hit the door.
It wasn’t unusual—Lisa had a habit of dropping by unannounced, usually bringing gossip, bad advice, or a bottle of wine.
But this time, she was grinning like she’d hit the jackpot, holding a cake box like it held a secret.
“Congratulations!” she squealed, barging in before I could even react.
I blinked, still holding my mug. “For what?”
Lisa gave me a look like I’d completely missed the memo. “Don’t play dumb, Emily. Your engagement, obviously!”
She shoved the box into my hands, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Thought I’d bring something sweet to celebrate the fact that you finally locked that man down.”
Her words hit me like static—disjointed, unreal.
“What are you talking about?” I asked slowly, trying to piece it together.
Lisa’s smile wavered. “Wait… you don’t know?”
That’s when the chill started creeping up my spine. The kind of instinct that told me I was about to uncover something I wouldn’t like.
I grabbed my laptop, heart sinking, and opened it.
There it was.
A post from Ryan’s mom, written in her usual over-the-top tone, filled with exclamation points and unnecessary flair.
“Congratulations to my son for proposing to the love of his life! So excited to welcome Emily into the family!”
My stomach twisted.
I scanned the comments—“Finally!” “So happy for you two!” “We knew it was coming!”
But the truth?
It hadn’t happened. There was no proposal. No ring. No hint that Ryan was even thinking about it.
Lisa sat beside me, peering at the screen. “Em… what the hell?”
I stared at the post, my pulse pounding.
Ten years.
Ten years of waiting, of watching him laugh off questions at family dinners. “When the time is right,” he always said.
Apparently, his mother had decided the right time was now.
Rage built in my chest, hot and sharp. I clenched my phone tightly, feeling the edges dig into my hand.
And just like that, the post disappeared.
Deleted.
Gone as if it never existed.
I exhaled slowly. This wasn’t shock anymore—it was clarity.
I picked up my phone, smirked, and turned to Lisa.
If Ryan’s mom wanted an engagement, I’d give her one.
Just not the way she expected.
I hit post.
“So happy to finally say YES! Excited for this new chapter of our lives! 💍❤️”
Beneath it was a photo of my left hand—bare, of course—but angled just right, with a hint of shadow to make people wonder: was there a ring or not?
Lisa let out a whistle. “Oh, you are evil.”
I smiled, leaning back. “No, I’m just done.”
She laughed. “Same thing.”
Notifications poured in—likes, comments, emojis. I could almost hear Ryan’s relatives scrambling.
Less than an hour later, there was frantic pounding at my door.
Ryan burst in, breathless, eyes wide.
“Emily, what the hell did you just do?”
I stayed calm, sipping my coffee. “Good to see you too, babe.”
He looked like he’d explode. “Why would you lie on social media?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Lie?” I set my mug down. “I’m just celebrating the engagement. You know, the one your mom announced before you ever found the courage.”
His expression crumbled. “Oh…”
I crossed my arms. “Let me guess—still waiting for the right moment?”
Ryan sighed, rubbing his temples like he was the victim here.
“Emily, I just… I wanted it to be special.”
I laughed, bitter and cold. “Ten years, Ryan. And it’s your mom who made the move for you.”
He had nothing to say.
I picked up my phone, let him watch as I deleted the post. Just like that, it was gone.
He stood there, silent.
And then, like nothing had happened, he tried to carry on.
So I made a decision.
The next morning, I called him. Cheerful, light.
“Hey. Let’s go out for dinner tonight. Just us.”
He paused—hesitant. Probably wondering if this was a trap.
“Uh… sure. That sounds nice.”
Nice.
That evening, we arrived at the most upscale restaurant in town. The kind of place that whispered elegance. Candlelight, soft music, the works.
He looked around, puzzled but said nothing. Swirling his wine, he smiled.
“This is nice,” he said.
I smiled back. “We deserve something special.”
He relaxed. Maybe he thought I was forgiving him.
Then dessert came. Beautifully plated.
I nodded at the waiter.
The music shifted. Conversations died down. People started watching.
I stood, pushed back my chair, and dropped to one knee.
A ripple of gasps spread through the room.
Ryan froze, his glass mid-air.
His face turned pale.
He looked from me to the velvet box in my hand, confused, alarmed.
“Emily…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”
I held out the box.
“Open it.”
He hesitated, then flipped it open.
Inside, no ring.
Just a note.
“Good luck waiting for the right moment with another woman.”
He stared at it, the words sinking in like a weight.
I stood up, collected my purse, and turned to leave.
“I’m done waiting,” I whispered.
Then I walked out.
The night air was cool and alive.
I closed my eyes and breathed it in.
Everything felt new. Crisp. Real.
My phone buzzed.
Lisa.
Did you actually do it?
I smiled and texted back.
Oh, I did. And it was beautiful.
I slipped the phone away, looked up at the stars, and felt free.
Ryan could keep waiting for the perfect moment.
I had just created mine.