For our third anniversary, I thought Ryan, my boyfriend of three years, would propose. He made reservations at a fancy downtown restaurant and told me to dress up for a “special surprise.” I wore my favorite emerald-green dress, hopeful and excited. But when dessert arrived, instead of a ring, the waiter delivered a cake that read, “Congrats on Your Promotion!”—a promotion I didn’t get.

Earlier that week, I’d confided in Ryan about being passed over for the role because of assumptions about me possibly getting married and pregnant soon. His fake celebration felt like mockery. When I confronted him, he brushed it off, claiming he was trying to “lighten the mood” and give me “positive vibes.” But the real kicker came when he said I was never close to getting the job anyway.

I walked out, furious and humiliated. After ignoring his texts for days, I took my friend’s advice and planned a little “revenge party.” I invited friends over, including Ryan, and decorated my apartment with black and gold balloons and a banner that read, “Congrats on Becoming Bald!”—a jab at his hair insecurity. The cake said, “Manifesting It Early!”

Ryan was livid, but I kept my cool. “Good vibes, right?” I smiled, using his own words. Some of his friends laughed, others didn’t. One admitted the original cake idea was messed up. Ryan stormed out, ending things between us.

To my surprise, his friend Zach stayed behind. He praised my comeback and even hinted at asking me out. I smiled. Maybe this night wasn’t a total disaster after all.