Patrick always told me we needed more time before moving in together. More time before getting engaged. More time before making a real commitment. But the second I inherited a fully paid-up apartment? He couldn’t wait another second. And that’s when I knew I was never his first choice.
For years, I watched my friends fall in love, get engaged, and start lives with partners who adored them. Meanwhile, I was always the third wheel, the one asked to take cute couple photos, the one joking that I’d probably end up as a crazy cat lady—even though I didn’t own a cat.
Woman capturing moments at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
So when Patrick noticed me in a bar two years ago, I thought, finally, it was my turn.
He had this effortless charm, and when he looked at me like I was the most interesting person in the room, I fell for it. It’s hard.
For two years, I ignored the little things. The way he never really gave—no gifts, no time, no effort. The fact that he still lived with his mother and had no intention of changing. The way he dodged every conversation about moving in together or getting married.
“We don’t know each other well enough yet,” he always said, usually while scrolling through his phone.
Two years into the relationship. And yet, he still wasn’t sure.
Serious couple talking | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed my pain and told myself that love was a matter of patience and that commitment would come.
But something happened.
And everything changed.
Last month, my aunt passed away. It was sudden, unexpected. She was my mother’s big sister, the one who always remembered my birthday, who sent me random packages, even as an adult. Losing her felt like losing a part of my home.
Then came the shock.
Woman with a slightly surprised expression | Source: Midjourney
She had no children, no partner, and she left me her entire three-bedroom apartment.
It was bittersweet. I would have given anything to have her back. But this? This inheritance changed my life. No more rent. No more stress about rising costs. A home that was mine .
Naturally, I shared the news with Patrick.
And guess what?
That same evening, he showed up at my door with flowers (his first ever), a bottle of wine (cheap, but still), and most shocking of all – a ring.
Man on doorstep holding roses and a bottle of wine | Source: Midjourney
I opened the door, and there he was, standing awkwardly on my tiny welcome mat, holding up a small velvet box.
“Baby,” he breathed, flashing his easy smile. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Will you marry me?”
I stared at him, not knowing how to answer.
Two weeks ago, I casually mentioned the engagement . His response?
“Baby, rings are really expensive right now. Let’s not rush into anything.”
But now? Now he was ready?
A person holding an open box of engagement rings | Source: Pexels
I swallowed the lump in my throat and put on my best surprised face. “Patrick… I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” he insisted, his eyes shining. “We’ve been together for two years, baby. It’s time. Let’s build our future together.”
Build. That’s it. Because now I had something worth building . I should have sent her the ring back. I should have called her.
But instead? I forced the biggest, most exaggerated smile I could muster. The kind of smile that would make anyone think I was the happiest woman in the world.
“Yes! I’ll marry you!” I gasped.
Woman accepting a marriage proposal | Source: Midjourney
Patrick let out a relieved chuckle, slipping the cheap little ring onto my finger as if he’d just won the lottery. Which, in a way, he thought he had.
He took me in his arms and squeezed me a little too tightly. “You won’t regret it, baby,” he whispered against my hair. “We’re going to be so happy.”
I almost laughed. Instead, I stepped back, holding up a single finger between us. “But…”
His face tightened. “But…?”
I tilted my head, giving him my best gentle but serious look. “I have one condition.”
Her tense shoulders relaxed. “Oh, baby, whatever it is, consider it done.”
Man proposes to girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
I took a slow breath, then dropped the bomb.
“From now on, you will always follow one of my rules.” I paused long enough for him to lean in slightly, curious. “You will never enter the apartment before me. Never. No exceptions.”
The smile on his face flickered for a second.
His eyebrows furrowed. “Uh… what?” He let out a nervous chuckle as if I’d just told him he had to give up video games for life. “Why?”
“It’s just a personal thing,” I said calmly. “If we’re going to get married, you should respect that.”
Couple having a conversation | Source: Midjourney
Patrick hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right argument. But then, thinking he’d already won the grand prize—a rent-free life—he gave me a wry smile and nodded.
“Yes, baby. Of course. Whatever you want.”
For weeks, Patrick transformed himself into the perfect fiancé .
He started calling me his queen , which was funny, considering I used to be just a baby—or worse, a dude— when he was distracted.
He cooked me dinner for the very first time. Well, if you consider boiling pasta and pouring a jar of sauce over it “cooking.” But I smiled and thanked him like he was a five-star chef.
Man preparing dinner for his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
He began to casually discuss our future in the apartment.
“Baby, I was thinking we should get a big flat-screen TV for the living room.” Or, “I saw this gaming chair on sale. It would look great in our office.”
He was settling in, getting too comfortable. Too confident. But I didn’t believe it. Because beneath that sweet smile? I knew he was waiting.
He was waiting for the day the apartment would officially be mine.
And of course? That day has arrived.
Inside a beautiful, cozy apartment | Source: Pexels
The apartment was finally in my name. But I didn’t tell Patrick right away. Then one day, I left work early and came home unexpectedly.
And guess what I saw?
Patrick. Inside the apartment. With his mother. Measuring the living room.
I stood frozen in the doorway, clutching my bag so tightly.
His mother—who had never cared about our relationship, who barely acknowledged my existence—was now gesturing toward the windows.
Woman standing by the window | Source: Midjourney
“I think sheer curtains would brighten up the space,” she says.
Patrick, caught red-handed measuring, turned around: “Oh! Baby! You came home early!” he stammered, dropping the tape measure as if it had burned him.
I put my bag down very deliberately, crossed my arms, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” I said coldly, letting my gaze sweep over them. “And I see you’ve broken the only rule I gave you.”
Silence.
Patrick swallowed hard. “Baby, I…”
But before he could even attempt an apology, his mother—bless her righteous little heart—snorted and waved a dismissive hand.
“Well, my dear, now that Patrick is your fiancé, this is his house too!”
And that’s when I lost my mind.
Women having a tense conversation | Source: Midjourney
I laughed in their faces.
Patrick flinched, while his mother’s mouth set in a tight, disapproving line. The tension in the room was at its peak.
“Oh, you thought we were actually getting married?” I asked, shaking my head and wiping an imaginary tear from my eye. “That’s sweet.”
Patrick’s eyes widened in horror. “What? Baby, of course…”
“No, no, no,” I interrupted, raising my hand. “Let me be clear: I knew why you proposed. You never wanted me—you wanted the apartment.”
His mother let out a shocked gasp, clutching her chest as if I’d just slapped her. “How dare you accuse my son…”
“No, how dare you plan to move into my apartment while I was at work!” I retorted, my voice carrying through the room like a whip.
Women having a tense conversation | Source: Midjourney
Patrick was sweating now, his hands raised as if he could calm the situation. “Baby, please, I just…”
“Stop. Stop .”
His face twisted, caught somewhere between anger and panic, and I could see his carefully crafted act crumbling.
But I wasn’t done.
“Let’s talk about what’s really going on here, Patrick,” I said, crossing my arms. “You weren’t ready to marry me for two years . But the second I inherit a fully paid-up apartment? You suddenly get down on one knee?”
Patrick blinked quickly, searching for an excuse. “It’s not that, I just realized how much I love you, baby!”
I let out a high-pitched laugh. “Oh, really? Then tell me, when exactly did you ‘realize’ this? Before or after you and your mother started planning where to place her furniture?”
Woman confronting her boyfriend and his mother | Source: Midjourney
Her mother mocked, stepping forward like a queen addressing her subjects. “Young lady, you are showing great ingratitude. My son gives you his last name, and you treat him like a gold digger !”
Silence.
Then Patrick cracked.
“FINALLY! You want to know the truth?” He threw up his arms. “Yes! I wasn’t ready to marry you before because, frankly, you ‘re not the kind of woman men fight over!”
Oof.
But he wasn’t finished.
Couple arguing | Source: Midjourney
“You should be grateful someone like me gave you a chance! You weren’t going to do better, Janet!”
I took a deep breath. “You’re right, Patrick. Maybe I won’t do any better.”
His face lit up, thinking I was backing down. His mother smiled, obviously believing they had won.
So I rummaged through my bag, pulled out a neat pile of papers, and threw them on the kitchen counter.
“Luckily I won’t have to find out,” I said casually. “Because as of this morning, I sold the apartment .”
His jaw dropped .
Couple having a tense conversation | Source: Midjourney
“You did WHAT ?!” Patrick shouted, lunging for the papers as if he could undo what had already been done.
“You heard me,” I said, smiling. “I signed the papers this morning. The money is already in my account.”
Patrick felt like he was going to faint. His face went pale, and for the first time since I’d known him, he had nothing to say.
“You-you’re lying ,” he whispered.
I shrugged. “Call the real estate agent. Ask.”
He stumbled backward, his eyes darting wildly towards his mother, who grabbed his arm in sheer panic.
A man stands next to his shocked 50-year-old mother in a luxury apartment | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, what are we doing ?!”
And that? That was the final nail in the coffin.
I grabbed my purse, walked to the door, and turned around.
“You’re right, Patrick. I was n’t going to do any better. But lucky for me…” I gave him the brightest, most satisfied smile of my life.
“I just did it.”
Then I pointed at the door. “Now get the hell out of this house.”
Woman kicks boyfriend out of house | Source: Midjourney
The apartment sold faster than I expected. Within a week, the paperwork was finalized, the money was in my account, and I was gone. I moved to a new city, got a cozy little apartment on my own terms , and had a fresh start. No freeloaders. No manipulative boyfriends. Just me , living life the way I deserved.
Patrick, of course, has lost his mind.
He called constantly, begging to “make things right.” He swore he “never meant to hurt me” and that we could “start all over again.”
Blocked.
His mother left a three-minute voicemail calling me a “heartless little witch” for “ruining her son’s future.”
Also blocked.
Woman scrolling through her phone | Source: Midjourney
A mutual friend later told me that Patrick had no savings, no emergency plan, and—surprise—still lived with his mother.
And me?
I was in my new apartment, sipping wine on my balcony, happier than I had ever been.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t settling .
Woman sipping a glass of wine | Source: Midjourney
Read also: My husband abandoned me and our baby at the airport and went on vacation alone – He regretted it bitterly
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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