I Proposed to my Boyfriend and Got Rejected

After seven years of dating, I finally pulled out the ring I’d spent so long saving for, ready to propose to Carl. But then he called.

“I sent you the address. Come over, and don’t forget the necklace on the table.”

With my heart racing, I grabbed the sparkling necklace, excitement and nerves swirling inside me. But when I arrived, the sight before me shattered everything—Carl was holding another woman in his arms.

He frowned, his expression cold as he yanked the necklace from my neck.

“This is Remi’s gift. Why are you wearing it?”

——

His words cut deeper than the necklace clasp, which tore a thin, painful line into my skin as he pulled it away. I winced at the sting. Without the necklace, my wide neckline felt exposed. I instinctively covered my chest with one hand, trying to shield myself from the prying eyes of the men standing nearby.

Then I looked up at the woman beside him. Her elegance, her beauty—she was everything I wasn’t. They stood together like a perfect match, leaving me feeling small, unworthy, and utterly broken.

When I arrived, a murmur rippled through the crowd, and whispers filled the room.

The woman barely acknowledged the necklace Carl had just taken from me, twirling it between her fingers as if it were nothing special. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, scrutinizing me with mild curiosity.

“This girl looks familiar. Have we met before?” she asked, her voice smooth but indifferent.

Carl waved dismissively, not even glancing in my direction. “She’s the one I saved a while ago.”

A slow smile spread across the woman’s face. “Mr. Lewis, always so caring,” she said with a playful lilt. “I heard she works as your secretary now. Is she... your secret girlfriend?”

Her tone dripped with amusement, as if the very idea was some kind of inside joke.

"Miss Eve, you're hilarious," Carl scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why would I ever let someone like her get a piece of my wealth? I only gave her the job because her family’s poor and pitiful."

Then he turned to me, his frown deepening. "Why are you still here?"

Yes, why was I still standing there? My mind spun as I blinked, suddenly remembering why I had come—to propose to Carl. I had spent months preparing for this moment. Half a year ago, I asked a mutual friend to help me choose the perfect ring style. I had a dress custom-made, spent hours taking etiquette lessons to walk gracefully in heels, and practiced every word I would say.

I had poured all my energy into looking my best today, believing I would surprise him with the proposal. When I saw the beautifully wrapped gift box on his dressing table earlier, I took it as a sign that we were meant to be. But now, it was clear—the "Dear Dear" on the card wasn’t written for me.

After years of watching TV dramas about love and betrayal, I found myself in the middle of one—a real-life wealthy marriage, unfolding right in front of me. I stared at Carl’s hand resting possessively on Remi’s slim waist, a bitter knot tightening in my chest. My fists clenched at my sides, but instead of letting the anger consume me, I took a deep breath.

Without a word, I pulled out my bank card—the one I’d been using to save up for his ring—and held it out to him.

"Mr. Lewis, congratulations on finding true love and successfully proposing. This is all the money I owe you from the past years. Thank you for taking care of me. Since your heart is set elsewhere, I’d like to resign. Please approve it tomorrow."

Upon hearing my words, Carl sneered, refusing to take the card. "Mia, do you think my Lewis Group is a vegetable market? You can leave if you want; stay if you want." He then pulled out his cell phone, tapped a few times, and showed it to me in front of everyone.

"Your parents just messaged me, wanting to advance your salary for ten years—50 million—to pay off your gambling debt. Now you want me to clear that debt and join you for Escape from the Shell?" After reading that message, my heart sank.

"Emma, has that annoying girl Mia been behaving lately?" Carl's voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm. "My uncle wants to borrow her salary first. It’s not much, just 50 million! She'll pay you back, of course."

A wave of mocking glances swept in my direction. I bit my lip, forcing myself to keep my voice steady as I tried to swallow the humiliation.

"Sorry, I'll go back now and tell them to stop bothering you," I muttered, desperate to escape the scene.

But Carl wasn’t finished. He never missed a chance to humiliate me. With a smug grin, he pointed at my shoes and said to Remi, “Even though she’s wearing the same style, you make them look so much more beautiful.”

I felt a sharp sting in my chest, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, offering him a half-smile. "Carl, when you bought these for me, didn’t you say there were only two pairs in the entire country?"

I let my words hang in the air for a moment before adding, “It seems your love for Miss Miller is less than mine.”

Carl’s face twisted with fury, his calm facade shattering as he stormed toward me. "Damn woman, what nonsense are you talking about?"

I sidestepped him, moving quickly to avoid his outstretched hand. In one swift motion, I kicked off my high heels from a nearby stool and flung them at him. The sharp heel struck his cheek, grazing it just enough to leave a thin trail of blood.

"You love these shoes so much?" I spat, my voice cold. "Why not give them to every woman? Go ahead—marry them all!"

Carl cursed loudly, clutching his cheek as rage boiled over. But before he could retaliate, I bolted, barefoot, out the door, leaving him to nurse his wounded pride.