After Years of Waiting, a Woman Decides to Propose to Her Boyfriend Herself, but His Response Is Even More Unexpected — Story of the Day

Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed, the morning light filtering through the thin hotel curtains.

The phone pressed against her ear felt heavier with each word from her mother.

“Mom… I don’t know…” she repeated softly, her voice cracking with frustration.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” her mother snapped on the other end. “Charlotte, you’ve been with Peter for, what, five years now?”

“Five years and three months,” Charlotte murmured, as if the exact number might defend her case.

“And still no proposal? Charlotte, you’re 33 years old! How much longer do you plan to walk around unmarried? At this rate, I’ll never see grandchildren,” her mother continued, her tone sharp and unwavering.

Charlotte bit her lip, the ache in her chest growing.

“When Peter planned this two-week trip, I really thought… I thought this was it, Mom. I thought he’d propose.”

“And now this trip is nearly over,” her mother cut in.

“The day after tomorrow, you’ll be home, and what do you have? Nothing but your grandfather’s ring, which should already be on your husband’s finger by now.”

“Mom, please,” Charlotte said, the weight of the conversation pressing down on her. “I know the story. You’ve told it a hundred times.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Charlotte! That ring is meant for your husband, and how are you supposed to pass it down if you don’t have one?” her mother snapped, her words sharp as glass.

Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

“Alright, Mom. I get it. I’m hanging up now.”

“Either find someone else or propose to him yourself!” her mother shouted just before Charlotte ended the call. The silence in the room was deafening.

Dropping the phone onto the bed, Charlotte buried her face in her hands. After a moment, she reached for her bag and pulled out the small velvet box.

She opened it slowly, revealing the delicate gold ring that carried generations of family history.

She held it in her palm, staring at it. The ring wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of tradition, of responsibility.

As the only daughter, that responsibility felt like a weight she wasn’t sure she could carry much longer.

The restaurant was warm and softly lit, with a hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air.

Charlotte sat across from Peter, her hands resting on the table, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t seem to silence.

“Time’s flown by, hasn’t it?” Peter said, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed smile. “I didn’t even notice. Tomorrow we’ll be back home, and this trip will just be a memory.”

Charlotte forced a small smile.

“Yeah, it went by quickly… but it feels like something’s missing, like we forgot something important,” she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

Peter furrowed his brow, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean? What’s missing?”

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Peter, don’t you think it’s time our relationship moved to the next level?”

Peter chuckled, his tone light.

“The next level? Are you saying you want us to get a dog? Or maybe a cat?”

Charlotte gave a tight smile, shaking her head. “No. I mean something else…”

“I don’t follow,” Peter said, his playful demeanor giving way to confusion.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Charlotte reached into her bag and pulled out a small velvet box.

She placed it on the table between them, her heart pounding.

“Peter,” she began, her voice trembling but firm, “we’ve been together for more than five years. I’ve known for a long time that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

With a deep breath, she opened the box, revealing the heirloom ring. “Peter, will you marry me?”

The color drained from Peter’s face as his eyes widened in shock. He looked at the ring, then at her, his discomfort evident.

Around them, the hum of conversation quieted as other diners took notice, their curious gazes making Peter shift uneasily.

“You’re proposing to me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Charlotte said, her smile faltering slightly. “What’s your answer?”

Peter glanced around, visibly unnerved by the attention. “I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“This doesn’t feel right… I need time to think.”

Charlotte’s chest tightened. “Time? You’ve had over five years! I can’t keep waiting—I need an answer.”

The restaurant fell silent, all eyes on their table. Peter stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket.

“I can’t do this. Charlotte, I think we need to take a break. I need to figure out what I really want.”

Charlotte’s breath caught. “A break? You’re breaking up with me?”

“No,” Peter said quickly, his voice defensive.

“Not breaking up. I just think we need some time apart. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.” Without another word, he turned and walked out.

“Peter!” Charlotte called after him, but he didn’t look back. Left alone at the table, Charlotte felt the weight of judgmental eyes around her.

Fighting back tears, she hurriedly gathered her things, paid the bill, and left the restaurant, the sting of rejection lingering with every step back to the hotel. Next day she returned to her hometown and first person she went to meet was her mother.

Charlotte walked into her mother’s house, her suitcase dragging behind her, the wheels squeaking against the tile floor.

The house smelled of lavender, just as it always had, but instead of comfort, it made her chest tighten. Her throat felt dry, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of sadness and anger.

As soon as her mother appeared in the doorway, Charlotte burst into tears and ran into her arms. The weight of her emotions spilled out in broken sobs.

“He left me, Mom,” Charlotte cried, her words muffled against her mother’s shoulder. “You were right. I wasted the best years of my life for nothing.”

Her mother gently stroked her hair, her voice surprisingly calm.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. But maybe this is a blessing in disguise. At least now he won’t waste any more of your time.”

Charlotte pulled back slightly, her face tear-streaked and red. Her mother’s words stung at first, but the softness in her voice made Charlotte pause.

She hadn’t expected sympathy—she’d braced herself for an “I told you so.”

“Do you really think it’s for the best?” Charlotte asked, her voice trembling.

Her mother gave a small, sad smile. “I do. You deserve someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to fight for you. It’s time to think about what you want.”

Hearing that, Charlotte let out another sob, this time feeling a weight begin to lift.

Years of pent-up anxiety, frustration, and heartbreak poured out, and for the first time, she let herself feel everything.

She stayed in her mother’s embrace, her tears slowing.

It wasn’t an instant cure, but in that moment, Charlotte realized something important: this chapter of her life had ended, and now, she had the chance to write a new one.

Almost a month had passed since Charlotte’s trip. Though her heart still carried the weight of heartbreak, she had begun to heal.

Each day felt a little lighter, and the texts from Reggie, the man she met recently, were a welcome distraction. His thoughtful messages, sprinkled with humor and warmth, brought a smile to her face each morning.

They weren’t serious, but he was kind, and for now, that was enough.

That morning, as she scrolled through her phone with her coffee in hand, a different name appeared on her screen. Her breath caught.

It was Peter.

“Hi, how are you? I’d like to meet and talk. Are you free today at five?”

Charlotte’s chest tightened. For weeks, she had convinced herself she was over him, but seeing his name brought back a flood of emotions.

Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen, her coffee growing cold. After a deep breath, she typed a simple reply:

“Yes, we can meet.”

Later that evening, Charlotte sat at a corner table in a quiet café, her nerves on edge.

When Peter walked in, her stomach turned. He carried a bouquet of roses and approached with the same familiar, confident smile he had always worn.

“I’ve missed you, Charlotte,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She pulled back slightly, meeting his surprise with a cold stare.

“I didn’t notice,” she replied, her tone clipped.

“Scared of what, Peter?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Of responsibility… marriage. And you blindsided me with that proposal. In front of everyone? Imagine how that felt for me.”

Charlotte’s jaw tightened.

“How you felt? Did you ever stop to think about how I felt? Being in a relationship for over five years with no sign of commitment? How that made me question everything about us?”

“I didn’t realize it mattered so much to you,” Peter said, his voice softening.

“You should have realized,” she shot back.

“It mattered to me, and it should have mattered to you. But you walked away. You made your choice.”

“I know,” Peter admitted, leaning forward.

“But I’ve had time to think. I was wrong, Charlotte. Let’s fix this. I’m ready now. Let’s go back to what we had. It was special, and I want to marry you.”

Charlotte shook her head, her resolve hardening.

“It’s too late, Peter.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded.

“We love each other. We can make this work.”

“No, Peter,” she said, standing.

“There’s no ‘we’ anymore. What we had is in the past, and I don’t want to go back.”

As she walked out of the café, Charlotte felt a weight lift.

For the first time in years, she felt free—free to embrace her future, one where her happiness didn’t depend on someone who couldn’t see her worth.

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