My boyfriend of six years rejected my proposal in front of both our families. None of them know I’m two months pregnant. I’m Amber and I’m currently sitting in my car outside a Target parking lot at 11:00 p.m. trying to figure out how my entire life fell apart in the span of 3 hours. Let me back up. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. I had it all planned out for weeks.

Both our families were coming over for what I told everyone was just a casual dinner party. My parents, his parents, my younger sister Kennedy, his older brother Marcus. I’d been dropping hints to Ryan for months about wanting to take the next step. and I thought he was on the same page.

We’d been together since college, lived together for three years, talked about kids and growing old together. I had the ring hidden in my jewelry box for 2 months, waiting for the right moment. The right moment was supposed to be tonight. I’d made his favorite meal, braised short ribs with garlic mashed potatoes. I’d decorated our apartment with ferry lights and candles.

I’d even gotten everyone to agree to come, which with our families is basically a miracle. My mom and his mom don’t exactly get along, but they were being civil for us. Everything was going smoothly. Everyone was laughing, drinking wine, having a good time. I waited until dessert was served, homemade tiramisu, and then I stood up. My hands were shaking as I picked up my wine glass to get everyone’s attention.

I just want to say something, I started, my voice a little wobbly. Ryan, we’ve been together for six amazing years, and you’re my best friend, my partner, my everything. I saw his face change, like immediately change. His eyes went wide and he started shaking his head slightly, but I was already kneeling down, pulling out the ring box.

Will you marry me? The silence that followed was deafening. Ryan didn’t look happy or surprised or emotional. He looked horrified. “Actually horrified.” “Amber,” he said quietly, his voice tight. “Can we talk in private? Just answer the question, honey,” his mom said, smiling nervously. “I can’t do this,” Ryan said, standing up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “I’m sorry, I can’t.

” And then he just walked out, grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door, and left his own apartment. I was still kneeling there, holding the ring box with eight pairs of eyes staring at me. My mom rushed over to help me up, and Kennedy started crying. Ryan’s mom looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. His dad cleared his throat and said something about giving us space. Within 20 minutes, everyone had left.

They hugged me, said kind things that I don’t really remember, and shuffled out into the night. I was left alone in an apartment full of halfeaten tiramisu and wilting flowers with a $3,000 engagement ring in my hand and a two-month-old secret growing inside me. That’s when I grabbed my keys and just started driving.

So now I’m here in this parking lot and I can’t stop replaying the look on his face. Not embarrassment, not surprise, horror. Like I’d asked him to do something terrible. My phone has been buzzing non-stop. Text from Kennedy, from my mom, even from Ryan’s brother, Marcus, but nothing from Ryan. I finally opened Kennedy’s messages. Where are you? Mom is freaking out.

Please just tell me you’re okay. Amber, seriously, call me. I typed back, “I’m fine. Need some time.” Then I opened Marcus’ message, which surprised me because we weren’t super close. “Hey, I’m really sorry about tonight. My brother is an idiot. Are you okay?” I didn’t respond to that one. The last message was from Ryan’s mom, Linda.

Amber, sweetheart, please know that I love you and this isn’t about you. Ryan has been going through something. Call me when you’re ready. Going through something. We live together. We shared a bed every night.

How could he be going through something that I didn’t know about? I decided to drive to the one place I knew I could think clearly. My best friend Natalie’s house. She lived about 30 minutes away, but she was always up late. I called her as I drove. Please tell me you’re calling with good news. She answered. She knew about my proposal plan. He said no. Silence. What? He said no. In front of everyone. He looked terrified and walked out. I’m going to kill him, Natalie said immediately. Where are you right now? On my way to your place.

Good. I’m putting on coffee and we’re drinking wine simultaneously if necessary. When I got to Natalie’s apartment, she opened the door before I even knocked. She took one look at my face and pulled me into a hug. That’s when I finally started crying. Really? Crying, the kind where you can’t catch your breath. I’m pregnant. I sobbed into her shoulder.

I’m pregnant and he doesn’t know and he just humiliated me in front of everyone and I don’t know what to do. Natalie pulled back, her eyes wide. You’re what? 2 months. I found out 3 weeks ago. I was going to tell him after he said yes. Oh, Amber. Natalie pulled me inside and sat me down on her couch. Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. Does anyone else know? Just you and my doctor. All right.

First, we’re going to figure out what’s going on with Ryan. Then we’ll deal with the rest. Do you have any idea why he would react that way? I shook my head. We’ve been happy. At least I thought we were. We talked about marriage all the time. He showed me rings online last month. He showed you rings. Yes.

We talked about what kind I liked, what metals, everything. That’s why I thought it was okay to propose to him. I thought we were on the same page. Natalie got up and poured us both coffee. She made mine decaf without asking. She was always thoughtful like that. Maybe he wanted to be the one to propose. Some guys are weird about that. Then he should have done it already, I said bitterly.

And even if that was it, you don’t just walk out. You don’t humiliate someone like that. You’re right. That was cruel. Natalie sat back down. Have you tried calling him? No, he hasn’t called me either. Maybe you should get some answers. I pulled out my phone and stared at Ryan’s contact. His photo was from last summer. We’d gone hiking and he was laughing at something I’d said, his hair messy from the wind. We looked so happy. I pressed call.

It rang four times before going to voicemail. I tried again. Same thing. He’s ignoring me, I said. My voice hollow or his phone d!ed. We both knew that wasn’t true. I stayed at Natalie’s that night. She gave me pajamas and made up her guest room, and I lay there in the dark, one hand on my stomach, trying to understand how everything had gone so wrong so fast.

My mind kept going back to the last few months, searching for signs I’d missed. Had Ryan been pulling away? Had there been clues that he was unhappy? I replayed conversations, analyzed his behavior, looked for red flags. There was that time two weeks ago when I’d mentioned my cousin’s wedding and how beautiful it was, and Ryan had gotten quiet.

I’d thought he was just tired from work. And last month, when we’d run into his college friend, Michael, who’d just gotten engaged, Ryan had seemed tense the whole rest of the day. I’d chocked it up to him being stressed about a project deadline. Were those the signs? Had I been so caught up in my own excitement about our future that I’d missed him pulling away? The next morning, I woke up to 17 missed calls.

Most were from Kennedy, a few from my mom, two were from Linda, and one was from Marcus. I called Marcus back first, which probably should have seemed weird to me, but nothing felt normal anymore. Amber, hey, he answered immediately. Are you okay? Where are you? I’m at a friends. Why are you calling me? He hesitated.

I think we need to talk about Ryan. My heart started pounding. What about him? Not over the phone. Can we meet somewhere? Like a coffee shop? Marcus, just tell me. Please. This is important and it’s not something I can just text you. There was something in his voice that scared me. Okay, there’s a coffee place on Maple Street, the one with the green awning. I know it.

I can be there in an hour. Fine. I hung up and immediately went to find Natalie, who was making breakfast in the kitchen. Marcus wants to meet me, I said. He says he needs to talk about Ryan. Natalie turned around, spatula in hand. That’s weird, right? Why would his brother want to talk to you? I don’t know, but he sounded serious. I’m coming with you. Nat, not negotiable.

You’re not going alone. An hour later, we were sitting in a corner booth at the coffee shop. I was nursing a chamomile tea and trying not to throw up from nerves when Marcus walked in. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept. His hair was disheveled and there were dark circles under his eyes. He slid into the booth across from me and nodded at Natalie. “Hey, hey,” Natalie said cooly.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Marcus said, looking at me. “I wasn’t sure if you would.” “What’s going on, Marcus? Where’s Ryan?” “He’s at his parents house. He showed up there last night after everything.” “Okay.” “And Marcus rubbed his face.” “Look, I’m going to tell you something, but you have to understand that I only found out about this a few months ago, and I’ve been trying to get him to tell you, but he wouldn’t listen. My bl00d went cold. Tell me what Ryan’s been having. Panic attacks. Bad ones.

He’s been seeing a therapist for about 4 months now. Whatever I’d been expecting. It wasn’t that. What? Why? About what? About commitment? About marriage? About becoming his dad? I felt like I’d been slapped. His dad? What’s wrong with his dad? Marcus laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. You really don’t know? I thought Ryan would have told you by now.

Told me what? He looked uncomfortable. Our parents almost got divorced 5 years ago. Dad had an affair with a woman from his office. It went on for 2 years. Mom found out and it nearly destroyed everything. They went to counseling and worked it out. But Ryan, he took it really hard. He worshiped dad.

Finding out he was capable of that kind of betrayal messed him up. I sat back, my mind reeling. 5 years ago, I’d been dating Ryan for a year at that point. I remembered him being distant for a while, but he’d said it was work stress. Why didn’t he tell me? Because he was ashamed. He didn’t want you to think differently of our family. And at first, I think he thought he could just get over it.

But then you guys started getting serious and the panic attacks started. Every time marriage came up, he’d spiral. So, he’s been lying to me, pretending he wanted to get married when he’s actually terrified of it. It’s not that simple, Marcus said quickly. He does want to marry you. He loves you. He’s just scared he’s going to end up like dad, that he’s going to hurt you the same way.

That’s ridiculous, Natalie interjected. Ryan’s not his father. He makes his own choices. I know that. You know that, but trauma doesn’t work that way. I felt tears burning in my eyes again. He should have told me, Marcus, we could have worked through it together. I know. I told him that multiple times. He was supposed to talk to you about it last month, but he kept chickening out.

So instead, he just humiliated me in front of our entire family. Marcus winced. That wasn’t supposed to happen, he panicked. I’m not defending him. What he did was wrong, but I thought you should know the truth. Is there anything else? I asked, my voice sharp. Any other massive secrets Ryan’s been keeping from me? Marcus hesitated and my stomach dropped. What? I demanded.

It’s not a secret exactly, more like something he’s been struggling with that he hasn’t told you about. Marcus, I swear to God, he’s been having nightmares about the wedding. About standing at the altar and then just walking away, leaving you there. He wakes up in a cold sweat sometimes. I know because he called me at 3:00 in the morning a few weeks ago, completely panicked. I felt sick. He called you, but he couldn’t talk to me.

He didn’t want to worry you. He thought he could work through it with his therapist before it became a problem. Well, it became a problem, I said bitterly. I stood up abruptly. I need air. I walked outside and Natalie followed me. We stood on the sidewalk while I tried to process everything. He’s been in therapy for 4 months, I said to no one in particular. Four months and he never said a word.

He’s been having nightmares about leaving me at the altar and he never thought to mention it. Amber, Natalie said gently. What do you want to do? That’s when it h!t me. The question I’d been avoiding since last night. What did I want to do? I was pregnant with Ryan’s baby. We lived together. We’d built a life together. But he’d kept this enormous secret from me.

Let me propose without warning me how he’d react and then abandoned me without an explanation. I need to talk to him, I said finally face to face. Are you sure you’re ready? No, but I don’t have a choice. I pulled out my phone and texted Ryan. We need to talk today. He responded within seconds. I know. Can you come to my parents house? Something about that felt wrong. No. Neutral territory. The park by the lake. 1 hour.

Okay. I went back inside and told Marcus. He nodded. I’ll tell him. And Amber, for what it’s worth, I really am sorry. I should have pushed him harder to tell you. Yeah. I said, “You should have.” Natalie drove me to the park. She offered to wait in the car, but I told her to go home. I needed to do this alone.

Ryan was already there when I arrived, sitting on a bench overlooking the water. He stood up when he saw me, and for a second, we just stared at each other. He looked awful. His eyes were bl00dsh0t, and he was wearing the same clothes from last night. Hi,” he said softly. “Hi, I’m sorry.” Don’t. I held up my hand. Don’t start with sorry. Start with the truth. He nodded and sat back down.

I sat next to him, keeping a careful distance between us. “Marcus told you,” he said. “It wasn’t a question.” He did, but I want to hear it from you. All of it. Ryan took a deep breath. “When I found out about my dad’s affair, something broke in me. I stopped believing in forever, in promises, in the idea that people actually keep their vows.

I watched my mom fall apart, watched my dad lie straight to her face for two years, and I realized that everyone’s capable of that, including me. So, you decided we couldn’t get married because you might cheat on me. I decided we couldn’t get married because I refuse to put you through what my dad put my mom through. What if I get bored? What if I meet someone else? What if 20 years from now I do something unforgivable? Ryan, that’s not how life works. You can’t control the future.

I know that’s what my therapist keeps saying, but knowing it and believing it are two different things. He turned to look at me and his eyes were red. When you got down on one knee last night, I had a full-blown panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was how I was going to fail you, how I was going to destroy you eventually. And I just I ran. I know that makes me a coward. It does, I said.

And my voice was harder than I intended. But you know what makes you an even bigger coward? Not telling me any of this, letting me think we were on the same page, letting me plan a proposal and humiliate myself when you could have just been honest. I tried to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want you to leave me. So instead, you made me look like a fool. He flinched. You’re right.

You’re completely right. I handled this in the worst possible way. We sat in silence for a minute, watching ducks paddle across the lake. Marcus told me about the nightmares, too, I said quietly. Ryan’s whole body tensed. He shouldn’t have. Yes, he should have. Someone needed to be honest with me since you clearly weren’t going to be.

Amber, “How many times, Ryan? How many times did you wake up in a cold sweat, terrified of marrying me, and then roll over and pretend everything was fine?” It wasn’t like that. The nightmares weren’t about not wanting to marry you. They were about failing you. There’s a difference, is there? Because from where I’m sitting, it all feels the same.

Ryan ran his hands through his hair, a gesture I’d seen a thousand times when he was stressed. I love you more than anything in this world. That’s never been in question. But I’m so scared of turning into my father that I’ve been paralyzing myself. And my therapist keeps telling me that by not dealing with my fear, I’m actually creating the exact situation I’m afraid of. Pushing you away, hurting you, destroying our relationship. Your therapist is right.

I know. Do you love me? I asked quietly more than anything. Then why does that feel like a lie right now? It’s not a lie, Amber. I love you so much it scares me. That’s the whole problem. I turned to face him fully. I need to tell you something. He looked at me waiting. I’m pregnant. The color drained from his face.

What? 2 months? I found out 3 weeks ago. I was going to tell you after the proposal. Ryan stood up like he’d been shocked. You’re pregnant with our baby? Yes, Ryan. Our baby. He started pacing, running his hands through his hair. Oh my god. Oh my god. This is too much. I supplied bitterly. Yeah, I’m getting that impression. No, that’s not I need a minute. I need to think.

You need to think. I’ve had 3 weeks to think. And you know what I thought? I thought we were going to be a family. I thought you’d be happy. I thought we’d figure it out together, but clearly I was wrong about everything. Amber, please. No, I stood up, too. You don’t get to do this, Ryan. You don’t get to keep me in the dark and then panic every time life throws us a curveball.

Either you want this, us, this baby, a future, or you don’t. And you need to figure that out right now because I’m not going to spend the next 7 months waiting for you to run away again. I want it, he said desperately. I want all of it. I’m just terrified. So am I. Do you think I’m not scared? I’m 28 years old. I make $45,000 a year and I’m about to be responsible for an entire human life.

I’m scared, but I’m not running away because you’re braver than me. No, because I trust myself and I thought I could trust you. His face crumpled. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? I wanted to say yes. I wanted to make him hurt the way I was hurting, but instead I said, I don’t know yet. I need time to think about what I want. Are you breaking up with me? I’m saying I need space.

I’m going to stay with Natalie for a while. You can stay at the apartment or with your parents. I don’t care. But I need time to figure out if I can forgive this. Can I call you? Eventually, but not yet. I started walking away, then stopped and turned back. Ryan, you should know that your dad’s choices aren’t your choices. You’re not him. And if you can’t see that, then maybe we don’t have a future anyway.

I left him standing there by the lake. The next two weeks were the hardest of my life. Honey, are you still planning to stay with him? I don’t know, Mom, because you don’t have to. You know that, right? You can come home. Your father and I will help you with whatever you need. The offer made me cry. Thanks, Mom. I just want you to know that you have options. You’re not trapped. But I felt trapped.

Trapped by love, by history, by the life growing inside me that tied me to Ryan, whether I wanted it to or not. Kennedy visited twice. The first time she brought ice cream and trashy magazines and tried to distract me. The second time she was more direct. Have you talked to him at all? She asked, sitting cross-legged on Natalie’s couch.

No, he’s texted a few times, but I haven’t responded. What did the text say? I pulled out my phone and showed her. I’m still at my parents. Take all the time you need. I’m still going to therapy twice a week now. I miss you. Please let me know you’re okay. Kennedy read through them, her expression unreadable. He sounds miserable. Good, Amber. What? He should be miserable.

He humiliated me, Kennedy, in front of everyone. And then I find out he’s been hiding this huge issue for months. He deserves to be miserable. I’m not defending him. What he did was wrong. But he clearly loves you. Love isn’t enough, I said, and saying it out loud made it feel true. Love isn’t enough if there’s no trust, no honesty. Kennedy was quiet for a moment.

Are you going to tell him about the baby? I already did that day at the park. And and he freaked out. said he needed time to think. He’s an idiot. Yeah, he is. Even Linda reached out asking if we could have coffee. I ignored the first two texts, but when she sent a third one that just said, “Please, Amber, I need to talk to you about something important.” I finally agreed.

We met at a quiet cafe on the other side of town, somewhere, I knew we wouldn’t run into anyone we knew. Linda looked older than I remembered. There were new lines around her eyes, and her hair had more gray in it. “Thank you for meeting me,” she said as we sat down with our drinks. “I wasn’t sure you would. I almost didn’t. I understand.” She wrapped her hands around her mug.

I wanted to apologize for Robert, for the affair, for not telling you what was going on with Ryan. You knew about his panic attacks? Not until recently. Marcus told me about a month ago. I tried to talk to Ryan, but he wouldn’t open up to me. I think he was ashamed or angry at me for staying with Robert. Maybe both. I took a sip of my tea. Not sure what to say.

I need to tell you something, Linda continued. Something I’ve never told anyone except my therapist. When I found out about Robert’s affair, my first instinct was to leave. To pack up and file for divorce and never look back. Why didn’t you? because I realized that what Robert did was Robert’s choice. It wasn’t about me or our marriage or anything I did wrong.

It was about him being selfish and weak. And I had to decide if I could forgive that, if the man he was trying to become was worth staying for. And you decided he was eventually, but it took a long time and a lot of therapy. And I still have days where I question it. She looked at me directly. Ryan is terrified of making the same mistake his father made.

But what he doesn’t understand is that the fear itself is what’s pushing you away, not some inevitable future. Betrayal. I know that. But how do I help him see it? I don’t think you can. I think he has to figure it out himself. All you can do is decide what you’re willing to wait for and what you’re not. We talked for another hour.

Linda told me about the affair, how she’d found out, how Robert had confessed, how they’d almost lost everything. She told me about the counseling, the slow rebuild of trust, the moments where she’d almost given up. “I’m not telling you to stay with Ryan,” she said as we were getting ready to leave. “That’s your choice. But I am telling you that people can change if they want to badly enough and if they’re willing to do the work.

What if the work isn’t enough? Then at least you’ll know you tried and you won’t spend the rest of your I life wondering what if. That night I lay in Natalie’s guest bed thinking about what Linda had said. Could people really change? Could Ryan overcome his fear? And more importantly, was I willing to wait around to find out? Ryan texted me again that night. I know you need space.

I’m trying to respect that, but I need you to know that I’m not giving up on us, on our future, on our family. I’m going to fix this. I promise. I stared at the text for a long time before responding, “Promises don’t mean much right now, Ryan.” His response came immediately. Then I’ll show you however long it takes.

Natalie was amazing through all of this. She let me cry. She let me rage. She let me eat ice cream for dinner three nights in a row. She also made me go to my first prenatal appointment, holding my hand while the doctor showed me the tiny blob on the ultrasound that would eventually become my child. Do you want to know the father’s name for the records? The doctor asked.

I hesitated, then gave Ryan’s information. Whatever happened between us, he deserved to be listed as the father. And is he involved? The doctor asked gently. I don’t know yet, I admitted. The doctor nodded sympathetically. Well, you have time to figure it out. For now, let’s focus on keeping you and baby healthy. She gave me a prescription for prenatal vitamins and a list of foods to avoid.

As we eyed each left, Natalie linked her arm through mine. You’re going to be an amazing mom, she said. What if I have to do it alone? Then you’ll do it alone, and you’ll still be amazing. But I don’t think you will be alone. My bet is Ryan pulls his head out of his butt and shows up. And if he doesn’t, then he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you.

One night about 16 days after the proposal disaster, I was lying in Natalie’s guest bed, scrolling through old photos of Ryan and me on my phone. I don’t know why I was torturing myself like that, but I couldn’t stop. There we were at Kennedy’s college graduation, his arm around my shoulders. There we were on Halloween, dressed as characters from a movie we loved.

There we were on a random Tuesday making faces at the camera while cooking dinner. We looked happy. We looked like people who were building something real. Then I came across a video I’d forgotten about. It was from our second anniversary. We’d gone to a cabin in the mountains and I’d set my phone on the table to record us making dinner together.

In the video, Ryan was chopping vegetables while I stirred something on the stove. We were laughing about something and then he’d stopped what he was doing and come up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I love you, he’d said into my hair. I love you, too. I’d responded. I’m going to marry you someday, Amber Thompson.

Oh yeah? When when I figure out how to make a proposal as perfect as you deserve. I’d turned in his arms and kissed him. I don’t need perfect. I just need you. The video ended and I was crying again. He’d said he wanted to marry me. Four years ago, he’d said those exact words. So, what had changed? When had his father’s affair become this insurmountable obstacle? My phone buzzed with a text from Marcus.

Can I send you something? It’s from Ryan, but he asked me to pass it along since he didn’t want to overwhelm you. I stared at the message for a long time before responding. Okay. A minute later, a video file came through. I almost didn’t open it, but curiosity got the better of me. The video was of Ryan sitting in what looked like his childhood bedroom at his parents house. He looked exhausted.

“Hi, Amber,” he started, his voice rough. “I know you said you needed space, and I’m trying to respect that, but I needed to tell you some things, and I couldn’t do it in a text. So, I’m sending this through Marcus because at least that way you can watch it if and when you’re ready. First, I’m sorry, not just for the proposal, but for everything, for not being honest, for not trusting you with the hard stuff, for making you feel like you couldn’t count on me. Second, I’ve been doing a lot of work in therapy twice a week, like I said. And I’m starting to

understand that I can’t let my dad’s mistakes define my future. That’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me. I’m not my father. I make my own choices and I choose you. I will always choose you. Third, I know you’re pregnant and I know I reacted badly when you told me, but I need you to know that I want this baby. I want to be a dad.

I want to build a family with you. I’m scared, but I’m not running anymore. I found something the other day. I was going through some old boxes at my parents house and I found this. He held up a small leather journal. It’s a journal I kept senior year of college, right around when we met. I haven’t looked at it in years, but I found this entry from the night of our third date.

I’m going to read it to you because I think it’s important. Met up with Amber again tonight. We went to that Mexican place she likes. And she told me about her family and her dreams of becoming a teacher. She laughed at all my stupid jokes and didn’t judge me for ordering three tacos. I know it’s only been three dates, but I have this weird feeling that she’s going to change my life. Like, this is someone I could build something real with.

I hope I don’t mess it up. I was 21 when I wrote that, Amber. 21 and already knowing you were special. And I was right. You changed my life. You made me better. And I did mess it up just like I was a He reached off camera and pulled out a small velvet box. My heart stopped. I bought this eight months ago. I’ve been carrying it around in my jacket pocket ever since, waiting for the right moment.

Every time I thought about proposing, I’d panic and chicken out. Not because I don’t want to marry you, but because I was so afraid of becoming my father that I paralyzed myself. But here’s the thing I’ve realized. Being afraid to hurt you isn’t the same as actually protecting you. In fact, by not dealing with my issues, I hurt you worse than I ever could have by just being honest. So, I’m being honest now.

I want to marry you, Amber. I want to be your husband and the father of our child and the person you build a life with. I want Sunday mornings and family dinners and arguments about whose turn it is to do the dishes. I want all of it, even the scary parts.

But I also understand if you’re not ready to forgive me, if you need more time or if you decide you can’t. Trust me again, I’ll accept that. I’ll still be there for the baby and I’ll respect whatever boundaries you need. I just needed you to know that 6 years ago I met someone who changed everything and I’m not giving up on her without a fight. I love you, Amber. I’ll wait as long as it takes. The video ended. I watched it three more times, crying harder each time.

Natalie heard me and came in, sitting on the edge of the bed. What happened? I showed her the video without a word. When it finished, she was quiet for a moment. Wow. Yeah. What are you going to do? I don’t know. Part of me wants to run back to him right now, but the other part of me is still so angry.

Both of those feelings are valid. I know, but they can’t both be true at the same time. Sure, they can. You can love someone and be angry at them. You can want to forgive them and still need them to earn it back. I looked down at my stomach, which was just starting to show the slightest curve. What would you do? Natalie smiled sadly.

I can’t answer that, but I can tell you what I see. I see two people who love each other and hurt each other and are trying to figure out how to move forward. And I think that’s pretty normal actually. Most people just don’t have to do it with an audience. She was right. The proposal had made everything public and now I felt like I was navigating my heartbreak under a microscope.

You know what the worst part is? I said, “I keep thinking about that video from our anniversary where he said he wanted to marry me someday. He meant it then. I know he did. So, when did it change? When did his dad’s affair become bigger than us? Maybe it didn’t change. Maybe it was always there under the surface and it just finally came out. That’s not better, Nat. I know, but at least now it’s out in the open.

You can’t fix a problem you don’t know exists. That night, I texted Ryan for the first time in over 2 weeks. I got your video, he responded immediately. And and I need to see you tomorrow. Same park. I’ll be there. Ryan, bring the ring. Okay. The next afternoon, I arrived at the park first.

I’d chosen a different bench this time, one with a better view. I wanted to be able to see Ryan coming. When he arrived, he looked nervous. He was wearing the blue sweater I’d bought him last Christmas, and his hair was freshly cut. He’d made an effort. He sat down next to me, leaving a respectful amount of space. “Hi,” he said. “Hi, thanks for agreeing to see me. Thanks for the video. It helped.

” He nodded, waiting. I took a deep breath. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to figure out if I can forgive you. And the truth is, I’m still not entirely sure. What you did hurt me in a way I didn’t think was possible. You made me feel stupid and unwanted and like everything we’d built was a lie. I know and I’m so sorry. But I also realized something.

I realized that I don’t want to be with someone who’s perfect and never makes mistakes. I want to be with someone who’s real, someone who struggles and works on themselves and tries to be better. And you’re doing that. Ryan’s eyes were bright with tears. I am. I promise I am. I’m not ready to get married yet, I said firmly. Maybe not for a while. I need to rebuild my trust in you, and that’s going to take time.

I understand. But I don’t want to do this alone. the pregnancy, the baby, all of it. I want us to try again slowly, honestly, with no more secrets. No more secrets, he agreed. I swear. And I need you to keep going to therapy for yourself, not just for me. I will. I promise. I reached over and took his hand. It felt both familiar and strange.

We’re not going back to the way things were. We can’t. But maybe we can build something new, something stronger. I’d like that. Show me the ring. He pulled out the velvet box with shaking hands and opened it. Inside was a simple platinum band with a single princess cut diamond. It was exactly what I would have chosen. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

I spent three months looking for the right one. I took the box from him and closed it, then handed it back. “Put it away. When the time is right, we’ll know. And maybe next time you’ll be the one proposing.” He smiled through his tears. “Deal? I’m staying at Natalie’s for another week. Then I’ll come home. But we’re sleeping in separate rooms until I’m ready. Whatever you need, and you’re coming to my next prenatal appointment. It’s on Thursday.

I’ll be there.” I leaned my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around me carefully like I might break. We sat like that for a long time, watching the sunset over the lake. We’re going to be okay, I said eventually. Though I wasn’t entirely sure if I was trying to convince him or myself. We’re going to be better than okay, Ryan said.

I’m going to make sure of it. The next few months were a slow process of rebuilding. Ryan came to every prenatal appointment, his hand in mine. As we watched our baby grow on the ultrasound screen, he asked questions, took notes, and started reading every pregnancy book he could find. We started couples therapy in addition to his individual sessions. Our therapist, Dr.

Chen, was patient and insightful. She helped us learn how to communicate better, how to be vulnerable without being defensive, how to rebuild trust one conversation at a time. It wasn’t always easy. There were setbacks, like the time Ryan canceled plans at the last minute because he was having a panic attack. And I felt that familiar anger rise up.

Or the time I snapped at him for leaving his dishes in the sink and we both realized I was really just scared he’d leave again. But we worked through it. We talked, we cried, we learned. I moved back into the apartment after 3 weeks at Natalie’s. True to my word, I slept in the guest room for the first month. But gradually, as trust rebuilt, I found myself spending more time in our shared bedroom.

First, just sitting on the bed to talk, then lying next to him to watch TV. And finally, one night about 2 months after the failed proposal, I just stayed. “Is this okay?” I asked, curled up against his chest. “More than okay,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. “My family slowly came around.

My mom was cautious at first, protective of me in a way that was both annoying and touching. But when she saw Ryan at the 20we ultrasound, crying happy tears as we found out we were having a girl, something softened in her. “He really loves you,” she said to me afterward. “I know. Just don’t let him forget how lucky he is.” Kennedy was harder to win over. She was furious with Ryan for months, barely speaking to him at family dinners.

But then one day, when I was about 5 months pregnant and struggling to reach something on a high shelf, Ryan jumped up to help me without being asked. He’d noticed I was uncomfortable before I’d even said anything. Kennedy watched the whole interaction, then pulled me aside. Later, “Okay,” she said. I’m still mad at him, but I can see he’s trying.

He really is good because if he hurts you again, I’m going to hurt him. And I know people. I laugh despite myself. You don’t know people, Kennedy. You’re a kindergarten teacher. Yeah, but 5-year-olds can be vicious when properly motivated. Ryan’s family was complicated in a different way. Linda was supportive, almost relieved that we were working things out.

Robert was awkward around me, like he knew his affair had caused all of this and didn’t know how to apologize for something that had happened 5 years ago. Marcus became an unexpected ally. He checked in on me regularly, offered to help with anything I needed, and called Ryan out when he was being an idiot. “You’re a good brother,” I told Marcus one day when he’d helped me move some furniture. “I’m trying to make up for not pushing Ryan harder to tell you the truth earlier.

I knew he was struggling, and I didn’t do enough. That wasn’t your responsibility.” “Maybe not, but I care about you, your family.” The words made me tear up, which happened a lot when I was pregnant. As my due date got closer, Ryan became increasingly nervous, but also increasingly excited. He set up the nursery, painting it a soft yellow with white trim.

He assembled the crib, the changing table, the rocking chair. He washed all the baby clothes and organized them by size. “You’re nesting,” I teased him. “I’m preparing,” he corrected. “There’s a difference. Whatever you say, honey.” One night when I was about 7 months pregnant, Ryan and I were lying in bed, his hand on my belly, feeling the baby kick. I want to tell you something, he said quietly. Okay, I’m not scared anymore.

Or I am, but it’s a different kind of scared. I’m not scared of becoming my dad. I’m not scared of failing you. I’m just scared of the normal things like whether I’ll be a good father, whether I’ll know what to do when she cries, whether I’ll mess her up somehow. That’s normal parent fear, I said. Everyone has that. I know.

And it feels so much better than the other fear because this fear means I get to have you. I get to have our daughter. I get to have this life we’re building. The other fear was trying to protect me from something that wasn’t real. This fear is about something that is real and that’s worth being scared for. I turned to face him. I’m proud of you for doing the work, for not giving up. I couldn’t give up on you. You’re everything.

4 months later on a random Tuesday evening when I was 8 months pregnant, Ryan came home from work and found me in the kitchen making dinner. My belly was huge now and I was constantly uncomfortable. But I was happy. We’d been rebuilding slowly. Therapy sessions, both individual and couples. Long conversations about fears and expectations.

Small moments of normaly that added up to something that felt like trust. Amber, Ryan said, and something in his voice made me turn around. He was on one knee in our kitchen, the same velvet box in his hand. I know we said we’d wait, he started. And if you say no, I’ll understand and I’ll wait as long as you need. But I couldn’t wait anymore.

Not because I’m impatient, but because I’ve realized something. Every day I spend with you is the right time. Every moment is the perfect moment because you’re the person I choose every single day, no matter what. My hands were shaking as I wiped flower on my apron. Amber Marie Thompson.

Will you marry me? I looked down at him at this man who had hurt me and healed with me and learned to be honest even when it was hard. I thought about the baby growing inside me and the life we were building and how nothing about our story had gone the way I planned. And I realized that was okay. Yes, I said, my voice breaking. Yes, I’ll marry me. He slid the ring onto my finger and it fit perfectly.

He stood up and kissed me, his hands gentle on my face. I love you, he whispered. I love you, too. But if you ever walk out on me again, I’m keeping the ring and the baby and the apartment. He laughed, the sound watery with emotion. Noted. That night, we called our families. My mom cried happy tears. Kennedy screamed so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

Linda and Robert were thrilled and Marcus texted me privately. “Told you he’d get his act together. Thank you.” I texted back for everything. For telling me the truth, for being there always, he replied. 3 weeks later, at exactly 2:47 in the morning, my water broke. Ryan sh0t out of bed like he’d been electrocuted. “Okay, okay, it’s happening. The bag is in the closet.

Your phone is charging. Keys are on the hook. I’m going to Ryan. Breathe. Right. Breathing. I can do that.” He took a deep breath. Are you okay? Does it hurt? Should I call the doctor? Yes, call Dr. Martinez. And yes, it hurts, but I’m okay.

The next 12 hours were a blur of contractions, hospital rooms, ice chips, and Ryan holding my hand through all of it. He didn’t panic. He didn’t leave. He was exactly who I needed him to be. At 2:13 p.m., Emma Rose came into the world screaming at the top of her tiny lungs. “She’s perfect,” Ryan said, crying as the nurse placed her on my chest. “You’re both perfect.

” I looked down at our daughter, her tiny fingers, her scrunched up face, her dark hair matted against her head, and felt something shift inside me. All the pain of the past year, all the heartbreak and fear and uncertainty suddenly felt worth it. “Hi, baby girl,” I whispered. “We’re your parents. We’re going to mess up sometimes, but we’re going to love you so much.” Ryan leaned in and kissed Emma’s forehead. “Then mine.” “We’re a family,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “We’re a family.” I agreed.

Over the next few days, as we adjusted to life with a newborn, I had time to reflect on everything that had happened. The failed proposal that had felt like the end of the world, the weeks of heartbreak and anger, the slow process of rebuilding trust. Do you ever regret it? Ryan asked one night when we were both exhausted from middle of the night feedings.

Staying with me, giving me another chance. I looked at him holding Emma, rocking her gently while she fussed. And I knew the answer. No, because this right here, right now, is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Even after everything I put you through, even after, because we’re stronger now. We know how to be honest with each other. Even when it’s hard, we know how to fight for us.

That’s worth more than an easy relationship that never gets tested. I smiled, tears in his eyes again. When did you get so wise? probably around the time I proposed to someone who ran away. That was humbling. We both laughed and Emma stirred in Ryan’s arms, making the little squeaking sound that meant she was about to wake up.

Speaking of proposals, I said, “We need to figure out when we’re actually getting married because I’m not walking down an aisle until I fit back into my normal clothes. We can wait as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.” I know. That’s why I said yes. We got married 6 months later on a Saturday in October when the leaves were turning gold and the air had that perfect autumn chill.

It was a small ceremony in that same park by the lake with just our immediate families and closest friends. I wore a simple white dress that Natalie had helped me pick out and Ryan wore the navy suit he looked so handsome in. Emma, who was 6 months old by then, wore a tiny white dress and slept through most of the ceremony in Natalie’s arms.

When the officient asked if anyone objected, Kennedy jokingly raised her hand and everyone laughed. Even Kennedy was laughing. “I’m kidding,” she called out. “They’re disgustingly in love. Proceed.” Ryan’s vows made me cry. He talked about second chances and learning to be brave and how grateful he was that I hadn’t given up on him.

He promised to be honest, to keep working on himself, to be the partner and father we deserved. My vows were simpler. I promised to keep choosing him everyday, even on the hard days. I promised to be patient as he continued to heal. I promised to build a life with him that was messy and real and ours. When the efficient pronounced us husband and wife, Ryan kissed me like we were the only two people in the world.

And in that moment, it felt like we were. As we walked back down the aisle together, officially married, with baby Emma in my arms now, I thought about that terrible night when Ryan had walked out on my proposal. It had felt like the end of everything, but it turned out to be the beginning of something real, something tested and proven and worth fighting for.

And maybe, in a strange way, that was the best proposal rejection I could have asked for because it forced us to be honest. It forced us to do the work. It forced us to build a foundation strong enough to last. At the reception, Marcus pulled me aside during the dancing. I’m really happy for you, he said. Both of you, you’re good for each other. Thanks, Marcus. And thank you for that day at the coffee shop, for telling me the truth. I don’t know if we would have made it without that. You would have figured it out eventually.

You two are annoyingly determined. I laughed. We are, aren’t we? It’s actually kind of inspiring. You make me believe in love again. High praise from someone who’s seen us at our worst. That’s exactly why I believe it. Because I saw you at your worst, and you still chose each other. Later that night after the reception had ended and the guests had gone home.

Ryan and I stood on the dock by the lake, Emma asleep in my arms watching the moon reflect on the water. Remember when we used to come here in college? Ryan said before all the complicated stuff, before your dad’s affair, before the panic attacks, before the failed proposal? Yeah. Sometimes I wish we could go back to that to when everything was simple.

I don’t, I said, surprising myself with the truth of it. Because simple isn’t the same as strong. We’re stronger now. We know what we’re capable of separately and together. We know we can survive hard things. Ryan wrapped his arm around my waist, careful not to wake Emma. You’re right, as usual. Get used to it, husband. I’m always right. He laughed.

I don’t mind. We stood there for a long time, the three of us, a family forged through fire. It wasn’t the perfect love story I’d imagined when I bought that engagement ring. It was messier, harder, more painful, but it was ours, and it was real, and that was better than perfect any day.

A year after the wedding, when Emma was learning to walk and Ryan and I had settled into the chaos of parenthood, we were cleaning out the closet and I found the ring box from my original proposal. The one I’d used that terrible night. Should we keep this? I asked Ryan, holding it up. He took it from me, turning it over in his hands. I don’t know. What do you think? I think we should keep it as a reminder of the worst night of our lives.

Of the night that changed everything. The night we started being honest. Ryan smiled. When did you become such an optimist? When I married a man who taught me that people can change if they want to badly enough. He pulled me close and kissed me. I love you, Amber Ryan. I love you, too. And I meant it.