Sloane’s boyfriend asks her to marry him the next day after she finally lets him see her fancy apartment. A sudden “disaster,” on the other hand, makes him lose his trust. What does he not know? Everything is a test… and has been paying close attention.
I don’t play games often, especially with other people. Ryan’s pace, on the other hand, seemed too smooth and quick… He seemed to have skipped ahead in our story and is now at the part where I say “yes” with stars in my eyes.
I did say yes, though. But not for the reason he thought.
We met eight months ago in a downtown dive bar. It was one of those dark places where all the drinks are made with whiskey and the waiters wear suspenders like it’s a religion.
The way Ryan smiled and shook hands was easy, and his eyes stayed just long enough to be charming without being creepy. That night, we talked about everything: being burned out in our late 20s, our hopes for a new business, and our regrets from youth.
He knew a lot. Quite charming. A little antsy and on the surface, they are ambitious. I thought this might be something when he kissed me outside under a broken light sign that blinking like it wasn’t sure what mood it was in.
It was true. For a while.
But charm can sound like it was written for you.
I saw the trends by the third month we were together. We always went to his place. A small one-bedroom apartment in a building that smelled slightly of smoke and sadness.
It seemed lovely to him. It was called “no hot water after 10.”
Ryan always bought us dinner, but only when it was a cheap place to eat. He talked about “tired gold-diggers” and “materialistic women” like it was a well-rehearsed speech. In the beginning, I noticed that he talked a lot about what he didn’t want in a partner but rarely asked me what I wanted.
What did Ryan not understand?
I sold my wellness business that used AI to a big tech company for seven figures two years ago. In my early 20s, I lived off of instant ramen and wrote backend code between shifts at a co-working spot that smelled like ambition and burnt coffee.
The deal was clean, and I put most of the money back into the business. I was fine thanks to that, my advisory jobs, and a few early crypto plays that I cashed out just in time. I worked at another tech company after that to keep myself busy and help them grow.
But I never dressed like that. I used my old car because my dad had given it to me during his death. There were no big brands on my clothes, but they fit well. I also didn’t bring Ryan home yet because I wanted to know who he was before he saw what I had.
By the sixth month, I asked him to come over.
Ryan smiled as he got out of the car and said, “Finally, Sloane.” “I was beginning to believe that you were hiding a family or something.”
Joe, the doorman, smiled and called me by name.
He tipped his hat and said, “Sloane, welcome home.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow and looked at him, then back at me. I didn’t say something. I pressed the button for the private lift and got in. With a whisper, the doors shut.
We were in my room when they opened again. My safe place. The windows from floor to ceiling let in a lot of light. The city sparkled like it was getting ready for a party. The glass in my living room was double-insulated, so it was nice and quiet. Such peace can be bought with money.
At first, he didn’t step in. He did nothing but stare.
He finally said, “This is… wow, Sloane.” “Do you live here?”
“Yeah,” I replied, taking off my shoes and putting them on a mat I had brought from Tokyo. “That’s not bad, right?” Feeling good.
He moved slowly in, as if he was scared to touch anything but couldn’t help himself. His fingers moved back and forth across the marble counters. He opened the custom-built Sub-Zero wine fridge and gave himself a nod.
He said, “Not too bad.”
Ryan kept walking until he came to one of the surreal paintings above the fireplace and stopped.
He asked, “How much is that one worth?”
While I shrugged, I looked at him. Nearly.
He wasn’t asked to sit down. He didn’t stop moving. He looked at the handmade couch, the Eames chair in the corner, and the fridge that worked with my sommelier app to suggest drinks to go with what I had chilled.
That night, he didn’t kiss me. Like he always did, he barely touched my arm or leg. He just kept smiling that confused, childish smile, as if he were in a fairy tale and didn’t want to wake up.
After a week, he asked her to marry him.
Ryan and I hadn’t really talked about getting married. Not in the way that you plan for the future. There will be no deep talks about kids, biological clocks, or timelines, and there won’t be any dreamy “what-if” scenarios over wine.
They only said “someday” and “building something together” in a hazy way.
For me, it was never a plan, just a place to put things.
I blinked when he walked into my living room a week later with a ring box in one hand and nervous energy coming out of every pore.
Not aware. It’s also not a surprise.
Ryan began to speak. He talked more about how to know when you’ve found the right person. About how you shouldn’t waste time or wait. You should seize the moment when the world sends you a sign.
I smiled. I pretended to be shocked. Yes, I said. I kissed him too.
But something inside me didn’t move.
Because he didn’t know that my best friend Jules had seen him the day after he saw my apartment and fell out of his chair.
From the shops, she called me.
She said in a whisper, “He’s at the jewelry counter.” “Sloane, he’s pointing at rings like he needs to be somewhere soon. He’s not even giving them a good look! Are you sure about him, girl? He’s about to ask her to marry him. I can tell by the way he moves.
I didn’t understand what to say. Yes, I cared about Ryan. Did I love him, though?
The proposal wasn’t sweet at all, based on what I knew.
It was planned out. Yes, I did say yes. I wasn’t in love, though. It was important for me to know if he was.
Ryan, did you want to live with me? Or did he want a life with a marble kitchen and a fridge that was smarter than most people?
I had to be sure.
I smiled, put the ring on, and began making plans for the trap.
That following week, I sobbed when I called him.
“Ryan?” I sniffled and let just the right amount of fear get into my voice. “I lost my job.” I don’t know what they meant when they said it was reorganizing… It seems like everything is going apart.
There was a pause. It’s one beat too long.
“Oh…wow.” It was strange, so he said it slowly, as if his brain was trying to dig words out of mud.
And I whispered, “I know.” “And to make things even worse… the apartment?” Oh my goodness! A pipe broke. There’s damage from water everywhere. In the spare room, the wooden floors are broken. It’s not livable.”
There’s more quiet. Heavy, thick quiet. The throat then cleared up.
“Unlivable?” he asked again. “What does that mean?”
“Everything you think it means, Ryan. I’m going to stay with Jules for now. “Until I figure things out.”
This time, there was a lot of silence.
Of course, I was bone dry as I sat cross-legged on my leather sofa with my hair in a loose, worried knot for effect. I pictured him on the other end, blinking stupidly and doing some more math.
The ring.
The speech about “forever.”
The view of the city he had imagined.
He finally said, “I… I didn’t expect this, Sloane,” but his voice was no longer shiny. “Perhaps we should…” Slow down. Rebuild. “You know, let’s get stable first.”
It was almost a whisper, but I said, “Right.” My breath shook like I was trying not to cry. That was it… Ryan wasn’t going to let me see him. Ryan was clearly letting me know he didn’t care.
I said, “I get it.”
He texted me in the morning.
“I feel like we went too fast.” Sloane, let’s get some space.
No calls. Not one offer to help. He was… gone.
I had to wait three days.
Then I called him. This time, it was a video call because some facts need to be heard loud and clear.
Ryan looked like he hadn’t shaved or slept well when he picked up the phone. His voice was rough, and his hoodie was wrinkly.
“Hey Sloane…”
I was on the balcony in my silk pajamas, standing on the warm stone floors without shoes. Another glass of champagne was sitting on the table next to me. I was ready to forget about my broken heart for now.
Of course, to teach Ryan a lesson.
I wasn’t happy. I only tilted the phone a little.
“Are you back home?” he asked, his eyes filled with hope.
I just said, “I’m home.” “However, isn’t it funny?”
“Sloane, what is it?” he asked with a sigh that showed he was really tired.
“You left faster than the so-called flood in my apartment.” Everything is okay. My room wasn’t broken in any way. I want to know if you really care about me, but it looks like you don’t, huh?”
He opened and closed his mouth.
“By the way, I got promoted too,” I said. My heart was pounding hard, but my voice was steady.
That was it.
At this point, I broke up with Ryan. In those months, we spent time together and got to know each other. But now it was over.
“Anyway,” I went on. “The CEO told me about the opportunity to grow in Europe.” Paris will be right outside my door. “Great win for me, Ryan.”
He looked ashamed for a moment. It could have been shame. Don’t they wear the same skin a lot?
I put the glass to my lips and said, “But thank you.” Because you showed me what “forever” means to you. We clearly have different ideas about what the word means.
“Wait, Sloane… “I… ”
“No,” I said, and that word made my voice crack. I didn’t talk about it. I let him hear how much pain was in my voice. “You can’t talk to me.” “Never again, never now.”
He opened his eyes.
“Ryan, you had your chance. I was yours. Before the skyline, before the floors, and before the hastily worked out plan… “And you gave up as soon as it looked hard for you.”
I looked into his eyes for just long enough for them to hurt.
The call was over after that.
Blocked. Taken out. Gone.
That night, Jules came over with Thai food and didn’t say anything bad.
She didn’t ask anything. She took her shoes off, gave me a box of spring rolls, and then flopped down on the couch like she had lived there before.
She took out her chopsticks and said, “He really thought he played you.” “At that moment, you were three steps ahead with the glass in your hand.”
I gave her a half-smile, but my eyes were still on the city. There was no end to it, and it was shining, but it looked… brighter. Could have been just me, finally getting it.
I said, “That’s weird.” “I’m not even sad, just a little bit. But I’m… let down. Like, Jules, I really wanted him to do well on the test. I really did. I really wanted Ryan to do well.
She opened her mouth wide and said, “Girl.” “He didn’t even bring an umbrella with him when it rained.” After one call, he hung up on you like you were on fire. That man was only interested in the benefits and not in the person.
Even though I laughed very hard, I had a lump in my mouth. Ryan shouldn’t have it.
More for what I believed we could have been. For what I thought he might be.
“I think that’s the worst part,” I said slowly. “Is knowing that he wouldn’t have made it through the real storms.” “Like, if things really got tough.”
Jules put down her box and looked me straight in the eye.
She told him, “He’s not your safe place in a storm, babe.” “He was just the weak roof you hadn’t checked out yet.”
That hit the ground harder than anything else.
“When things get hard, you’ll know it’s real,” people say a lot.
I made things look hard, then.
What did he do?
I was ghosted. Ran.
Ryan wasn’t in love with me, that much was clear. He loved the thought of me, the way of life, the ease, and the carefully put together illusion. But as soon as that cracked, even a little, he gave up.
Some people can’t handle the truth behind the shine.
But what about me? Giving someone who only wanted the view the keys to my apartment would make me sad. I’d rather be alone in there with my thoughts.
Who stays when the lights are on isn’t really love. It’s about who keeps you going when things go dark. Ryan left before the thunder started.
Now?
I can still see. The fridge that talks and the job that says it will take me places.
What’s most important?
I know what to do.
So let’s toast champagne, the end of an era, and never again mixing up possibility and promise.
What would you have done?
This work is based on real people and events, but it has been made up for artistic reasons. To protect privacy and make the story better, names, characters, and circumstances have been changed. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, or real events is completely accidental and not on purpose by the author.
