I spent three years loving Ryan, certain he’d propose on our anniversary.

He made a fancy restaurant reservation, told me to dress up, and hinted at a “special surprise.”

I arrived in an emerald dress, my heart racing — only for dessert to arrive with pink icing reading: “Congrats on Your Promotion!”

The problem? I hadn’t gotten the promotion. In fact, I’d been passed over because my bosses assumed I’d “probably get married and have a baby soon.

” I’d told Ryan this, thinking he understood. But he admitted he did it for “a laugh” and to “manifest good vibes.”

I left the restaurant furious, deciding I wouldn’t let it slide.

A few days later, I invited him over, saying I wanted to “make up.

” When he arrived, he found my living room filled with balloons and a banner that read:

“Congrats on Becoming Bald!” — his biggest insecurity.

The cake was identical to the one he’d ordered, except it said “Manifesting It Early!

”Ryan turned red, sputtering that it “wasn’t the same.”

I smiled and told him, “You’re right. Yours was cruel. Mine’s just a joke.” He stormed out, ending things on the spot.

The best part? After the guests left, one of his friends, Zach, stayed behind.

He told me it was “the best comeback” he’d ever seen — and then asked me out.

I laughed, telling him, “Only if you can take a joke.

”For once, I walked away not just with dignity, but with the last word.