The Gift Of Rejection

Today is my anniversary with my boyfriend, Jason. We’ve been together for eight years now, and in those eight years, we have loved each other passionately, fiercely, and through every storm imaginable. But today feels different. Today, I woke up with the certainty that my dream of becoming his wife is finally going to come true.

On this day, I didn't just hope; I prayed. I sent every silent plea into the universe that the wait was over. Jason invited me for a date tonight—a special one—and I have a very, very good feeling that he’s going to propose.

"He has to," I said confidentially to my reflection, the words hanging heavy in the scented air of my bedroom.

I stared at the woman in the mirror, wondering if tonight I would finally become his wife.

 I didn't just want to be his girlfriend tonight; I wanted to look like the woman who would stand beside him for the rest of his life. I prepared myself for the date with the precision of a soldier going into battle. I picked the best dress in my wardrobe—a floor-length emerald silk that clung to my skin like second nature, shouting elegance and class. I did my makeup with trembling hands, blending the foundation until my skin looked like porcelain, painting my lips a shade of red that demanded attention.

Everything had to be perfect. I was ready.

A notification chimed on my phone. The driver Jason sent was outside to pick me up.

As I walked down the stairs and settled into the leather backseat of the luxury car, a sudden wave of nerves hit me. I was kind of nervous—my hands were shaking slightly in my lap, and my breath hitched in my throat. Eight years is a long time to wait for a question. What if I was wrong? What if this was just another dinner?

But then, I took a deep breath and pushed the doubt away. No. I just had a good feeling about everything. The universe doesn't give you this kind of intuition for nothing.

I got to the venue, the prestigious Le Lumiere, and the doorman held the heavy glass door open for me. I stepped inside, the cool air conditioning hitting my flushed skin, and scanned the room.

And there he was.

I went inside, seeing Jason standing near the host stand with a bouquet of deep crimson roses in his hand.

Every instinct you need tells me that today is my lucky day. My heart did a somersault in my chest. Seeing him there, holding those flowers, looking like a prince out of a modern-day fairytale, I knew. I mean, my eight-year dream is going to come to pass.

Jason is not just a good person; he is a very wealthy man. A powerful man. I mean, every woman in this city wants him. They look at him with hungry eyes, wondering how a girl like me managed to keep him for nearly a decade. But tonight, he was here for me.

He spotted me, and his eyes lit up. He walked over, handing me the flowers with a soft smile that melted my insides. He acted like the gentleman that he is, guiding me to our private table. He pulled out the chair for me, waiting until I was comfortably seated before he took his own spot opposite me.

We placed our order, the waiter disappearing into the shadows to fetch our wine. We were eating and talking, the conversation flowing easily, but underneath the surface, I was vibrating with anticipation. Every time he reached for his glass, every time he adjusted his cuff, I thought, Is this it?

Then, all of a sudden, the atmosphere changed.

The ambient noise of the restaurant seemed to fade into a dull hum. Jason put his fork down. He wasn't smiling anymore—he looked serious, intense, his gaze locking onto mine with a weight that made the air between us crackle.

He said to me, looking straight into my eyes, "Evelyn."

Oh my God. My heart leaped from joy. It slammed against my ribs so hard I thought he could hear it. The look on his face... It was the look of a man about to change everything.

This time, I thought, my mind racing, he is going to propose. This is it.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Yes, honey?"

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. He took a deep breath, his thumb tracing the back of my hand.

"I have a surprise for you," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Time stopped. The world narrowed down to his lips and the promise hanging in the air.

Oh my God, tell me I am dreaming.

My wish has come true. He is going to propose. He is going to drop to one knee, pull out a velvet box, and ask me to be his forever.

"I..." I started, but my voice failed me. I just nodded, tears pricking the corners of my eyes, waiting for the words I had waited eight years to hear.