My boyfriend of six years took me to our favorite spot in the mountains, got down on one knee, and told me he had something to say. My heart was pounding, waiting for him to pull out a ring. But instead, he looked up at me with teary eyes and said, “I can’t marry you. I’ve been seeing someone else… and she’s pregnant.” The world tilted. The wind seemed to stop. I couldn’t move. I just stared at him, trying to make the words make sense.

This was the place we always came to when life felt heavy—where we laughed, kissed under stars, and talked about growing old together. And now, it was where everything ended. I wanted to scream, to run, but my body betrayed me. I stood still, frozen in disbelief, as he kept talking—explaining, justifying, crying. I didn’t hear a word. All I could think was: He brought me here to break me.

Eventually, I turned and walked back to the car in silence. He didn’t follow right away. When he finally did, he kept asking if I was okay, if I could forgive him. But there was nothing left to say. He had rehearsed a heartbreak, not a proposal. And I had no more tears to give someone who had spent months giving pieces of himself to someone else.

It’s been three months now. I haven’t gone back to that mountain. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’ve started hiking new trails on my own—ones that hurt less with every step. Love shouldn’t feel like betrayal disguised as romance. And next time someone gets down on one knee, I hope it’s not just to confess they never really loved me the way I deserved.