When Oakley’s best friend Sophie ropes her into planning an engagement party, she’s happy to help, until the event turns into a nightmarish betrayal. Confronted by her cheating ex in a public proposal orchestrated by Sophie, Oakley is forced to question loyalty, love, and her own worth.
Friendships are complicated things. Sophie and I weren’t the storybook best friends who did everything together. Instead, ours was built on a shaky foundation of high school rivalry, competing for grades, sports, and even attention at parties.
Two high school girls | Source: Midjourney
But somewhere along the way, we found common ground. By college, she was the one I trusted with everything, the one who always had my back.
Or so I assumed.
When Sophie called me a few weeks ago, her voice bubbled with excitement through the phone.
“Oakley! Ryan and I are throwing a little engagement party,” she said, pausing dramatically. “It’s a surprise announcement. No one else knows yet, not even Ryan. Well, not about the party, I mean. So, I need your help.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Of course, Sophie,” I said, genuinely happy for her. “Congratulations, bestie!”
Ryan was a sweet and lovely guy, and Sophie deserved someone who treated her well and always put her first.
“But it’s not a big thing,” she added quickly. “I want a cozy and intimate vibe, you know? Just our closest people. I’ll send out the invitations and whatnot when you’re ready with them. You’re so good at planning these events. Can you handle it?”
A woman talking on a phone | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t hesitate. I actually loved planning events.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Just tell me what you need and if there’s anything specific you want.”
Over the next few weeks, I noticed Sophie’s usual chatter had a strange edge to it. She was jumpy and dismissive whenever I pressed her for details.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’d say with a nervous laugh.
A party-planning notebook | Source: Midjourney
“Jinx what?” I asked. “Everything is already planned. I just need to get the cake order finalized and it will all be sorted. Nothing can be jinxed, Soph. It’s all going to be perfect.”
“You can’t be too careful…” she said wryly.
I figured it was just pre-party jitters. She’d always been a little dramatic, but I thought it was part of her charm. I didn’t question it.
By Friday night, I had spent hours arranging pink and gold balloons, fairy lights, and floral centerpieces. Sophie’s backyard looked like a scene from a romantic movie.
A backyard setup | Source: Midjourney
Sophie squealed in delight when she saw the setup.
“It’s exactly how I imagined it!” she gushed. “Thank you, Oak. You’ve made it perfect. Just perfect.”
When Saturday arrived, I loaded the last box of heart-shaped balloons into my car, excited to see Sophie’s big reveal to Ryan. He had been away for work since Thursday, and he was going to walk into the surprise engagement on his way home.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
I could already picture it:
Ryan’s stunned face, the joy in Sophie’s eyes, and the warmth of celebrating her happiness, surrounded by all their closest people.
But when I stepped into the event hall, my excitement curdled into something cold and heavy.
Jason, my ex-boyfriend, stood in the center of the living room, which now had vases of flowers and some of the pink and gold balloons all over.
A man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
He wore a suit and held a small, velvet ring box. His grin spread wide, the same grin that had once charmed me and now made my stomach churn.
“Surprise!” Sophie chirped, rushing toward me with a wide smile. “Jason has been planning this for weeks! And we thought, who better to help with the decorations than you? Isn’t it romantic?”
I stared at her, the pieces slowly clicking into place.
This wasn’t Sophie and Ryan’s engagement party. This was Jason’s proposal to me.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
Jason’s proposal.
Jason?!
And I had unknowingly helped decorate and cater for the entire event.
“What the hell is this?” I managed to whisper, my voice shaking as my knees almost buckled.
Jason stepped closer, the same confidence oozing from him that had once been magnetic.
A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney
“I know I messed up,” he began, as if acknowledging the understatement of the century. “But I’ve changed, Oakley. You’re the only one for me. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving it.”
My mind reeled.
Jason, who had cheated on me with a coworker, forced me into questioning my worth, and dumped me with a single text after weeks of silence, now thought this public spectacle would erase it all?
I turned to Sophie, desperate for an explanation.
An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“You knew what he did to me,” I said, my voice breaking. “You knew, Sophie.”
She shrugged, smiling as if she hadn’t just betrayed me.
“Everyone makes mistakes. Besides, he’s serious now. He’s ready to commit, Oak. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Isn’t that what matters?”
The air seemed to leave my lungs altogether.
A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney
Sophie had always been impulsive, but this was something else entirely.
“You thought this was okay?” I asked.
“It’s a grand gesture, Oakley!” she said brightly. “I think you’ll thank me one day.”
I had barely noticed my parents standing in the corner of the room until my mom stepped forward. Her voice was soft, pleading.
An older woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“Jason explained everything, Oak. He made a mistake, sure, but he’s trying to make it right. Don’t be so stubborn, sweetheart. You’re not getting any younger, and how often does a man who wants to propose come along?”
I felt the walls close in.
My humiliation, my anger… it was all secondary to the suffocating realization that the people I trusted the most in this world were siding with him.
An upset woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
With him.
Just as I turned to leave, Noah walked in carrying the cake box I’d asked him to bring in. I wasn’t going to trust myself to carry it with my heels on.
I had forgotten about Noah. But seeing him made me feel better. He had always been a calming presence for me.
He paused, his eyes scanning the room, his brows knitting in confusion. Then, his gaze landed on me, tear-streaked and trembling.
A man holding a cake box | Source: Midjourney
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice steady but firm.
Jason puffed up his chest like a rooster.
“I’m proposing to Oakley, Noah. You don’t have an issue with that, do you?”
Noah’s eyes darted to me, and then back to Jason.
A man standing with his hands in his pockets | Source: Midjourney
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice softer now.
I shook my head, unable to speak through the lump in my throat.
“Then let’s go,” Noah said without hesitation.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. The cool night air hit my face like a lifeline as we stepped outside.
A woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney
We drove in silence for a while, my thoughts a tangled mess of rage and betrayal. Finally, I told Noah everything. I expected him to offer advice or a quick solution, but he didn’t. Instead, he just listened.
Noah had been around for years, and while I told him about most things in our friendship, I wasn’t always open about talking about Jason.
Over the following months, our relationship became more intimate. Noah became a rock of sorts. He never pushed, never pried; he simply was. And when the time was right, our friendship deepened into something more.
A man driving a car | Source: Midjourney
It started out as a dinner from a drive-thru and turned into a romantic picnic in a parking lot. Noah reminded me that love wasn’t supposed to hurt or feel like an uphill battle.
As for Sophie?
It had been months since that night, months of cutting Sophie out of my life, deleting her texts without reading them, and dodging her calls. I thought I’d moved on, that I’d buried the hurt.
Then, one chilly afternoon in early spring, she showed up at the café where I was meeting Noah.
The interior of a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, her bright smile faltering slightly when she saw me.
I froze, mid-sip of my latte.
Sophie approached with hesitant steps, her voice too bright.
“Oakley! I was hoping I’d run into you!”
I didn’t return her smile.
A woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“What do you want, Sophie?”
Her expression flickered. Disappointment? Irritation? But she quickly covered it with the kind of grin that used to fool me.
“I just want to talk. Can we, um, can I sit?”
I nodded.
“I’ve missed you,” she began, her voice soft as she slid into the chair. “I know you’re mad, but I hate how things ended. I just want to explain.”
A woman sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“Explain what, Sophie? That you thought it was a good idea to ambush me with the guy who destroyed me? That you cared so little about my feelings you turned my pain into some romantic gesture for Jason?”
She flinched but held her ground.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said quickly. “I was trying to help you. You and Jason… there was so much love there, Oakley. I just thought if he could show you he was serious, you’d see it too.”
“Serious? He broke me, and you knew that.”
A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
“People change!” she exclaimed. “He told me he regretted it, that he wanted to make things right. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To be forgiven?”
I shook my head.
“I thought you’d be happy! You used to love him, Oakley! How was I supposed to know you’d react like that?”
My jaw dropped.
An upset woman sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“React like that? You mean like a normal person who doesn’t want to be blindsided by their abusive ex in front of their family and friends?”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion, Oakley. Like you always do. I wanted you to be happy like me.”
I stared at her, the full weight of her words hitting me.
“No, you were trying to force me into the life you thought I should want. You’ve never cared about what I actually feel, Sophie. It’s always been about you.”
An upset woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not true,” she said.
“It is. Now, please leave,” I said.
Just then, the bells above the door jingled again, and Noah walked in, beaming.
Bells hanging in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“That’s my cue to leave,” Sophie huffed.
“I assume that wasn’t an apology, was it?” Noah asked.
“No,” I said with a small, bitter laugh. “But that’s okay. I don’t need her apology anymore.”
A woman walking away | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
When Lily and Jason’s son, Nathan, brings his fiancée home for the long weekend, Lily is excited to get to know the young woman. But during that weekend, she notices her husband acting strange. So, she tries to uncover what is going on with Jason — only to open a can of worms with secrets wriggling everywhere.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Our Landlord Started Coming Daily to Check on the Apartment – When He Made a Scene about Spilt Coffee, We Had Enough
My bestie Jenna and I found the perfect vintage apartment with a seemingly sweet landlord, Mr. Whitaker. But things took a bizarre turn when his daily “inspections” and unsolicited advice crossed the line into creepy territory.
Hello! My name is Andrea, and anyone who has had to deal with a crazy landlord will relate to my story. So, here we go.
A few months ago, my bestie, Jenna, and I found this adorable two-bedroom apartment. It had that vintage charm, as well as brick walls, slightly creaky hardwood floors, and just this amazing cottage-core potential in the middle of the city.
A beautiful apartment living room | Source: Midjourney
The landlord, Mr. Whitaker, seemed like a sweet old guy, too, with gray hair and a kind smile. He looked a little like the grandfather from “Up,” except not grumpy.
I thought it was perfect, so we took it right away and signed the lease. For the first few months, it was bliss.
We decorated with quirky thrift store finds and turned every windowsill into a mini jungle. We even posted our journey on Instagram and did a lot of DIY craft stuff for more decorations. But then… things got weird.
Two people making crafts | Source: Pexels
It started innocently enough, so we didn’t have time to control things before they exploded. Let me explain a little better.
Mr. Whitaker showed up one day with a toolbox in hand. “Just checking the plumbing!” he said with a smile. That was amazing, right?
It was good to have a proactive landlord, one we didn’t have to call every day for a simple fix. But then he was back the next week. And the week after that.
An old man carrying a toolbox | Source: Midjourney
Soon, it was every. Single. Day. And his excuses got more and more ridiculous.
“Gotta inspect that wiring!”
“Those smoke detectors won’t check themselves!”
“Need to measure the air quality!”
I kid you not, he actually said this, and I had to Google if that was a real thing. Apparently, it was, so Jenna and I didn’t know what to think.
A woman with a puzzled expression | Source: Pexels
At first, we tried to be cool about it. We were like, “Maybe he’s just thorough? Or bored? Or really, REALLY into property maintenance?”
But nope, this issue got so much worse.
He came by another day without any kind of excuse and just looked around. Suddenly, he started critiquing our cleaning.
“You know, a little vinegar would get that stain out of the counter right out,” he said, pointing at a spot we didn’t even know existed.
Kitchen counters | Source: Unsplash
He also made these passive-aggressive comments about our lifestyle. “Back in my day, young ladies dressed much better with pretty sundresses, not sad, tight pants,” he muttered to me.
I was literally in my work clothes.
And sometimes he just… sat there. In our living room. Watching us like we were some kind of reality TV show.
He wasn’t exactly creepy yet, but Jenna and I were uncomfortable. If I wanted an old grumpy man to complain about my life and choices, I would’ve stayed at home with my parents.
A woman worried and uncomfortable | Source: Pexels
We had to start tiptoeing around our own apartment. It felt like he was here even in the rare times he didn’t show up.
Jenna and I even began to wonder if he was letting himself in when we weren’t around. Now, that was a creepy thought. But we had no proof.
One time, he showed up while Jenna was in the shower, and insisted on checking the bathroom sink right then and there.
I had to play bodyguard outside the bathroom door. Still, Jenna finished and came out quickly, and Mr. Whitaker got to work like this was perfectly normal.
A woman drying herself | Source: Pexels
Mortifying didn’t even begin to cover how we were feeling, and I was about to reach my breaking point.
Days later, he decided our furniture arrangement was “damaging the floor,” and tried to move our couch himself, nearly throwing out his back.
We had to help him sit down and get him some water. Eventually, we started keeping a log of his visits.
An old man on a couch drinking water | Source: Midjourney
It was our own bizarre diary:
Monday: Checked lightbulbs. Commented on dust.
Tuesday: Inspected windows. Criticized our choice of curtains.
Wednesday: ‘Fixed’ a door that wasn’t broken. Left it squeaking.
You get the idea. We were going nuts, but we were also kind of scared to confront him. What if he kicked us out?
A woman confused and worried | Source: Pexels
The rental market was brutal, and we loved this place (when he wasn’t in it).
Then came The Day.
It was a sunny Saturday morning. Jenna and I were having our weekend coffee, planning a day of brunch and thrift shopping.
I reached for the sugar and my elbow knocked over my cup. Coffee spilled over our cute little IKEA table and onto the floor.
That was no big deal, but before we could even grab a paper towel, we heard keys jingling.
Keys on a lock | Source: Pexels
The door flew open, and there was Mr. Whitaker. His face changed so quickly at seeing the mess and got so red, I swear he could’ve stopped traffic.
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?!” he demanded, and his eyes almost bulged like a cartoon. “YOU’RE RUINING MY PROPERTY!”
I tried to calm him down. “I just spilled my coffee, Mr. Whitaker. We’ll clean it up, no worries!”
“JUST COFFEE?!” he screamed. I’m pretty sure I saw steam coming out of his ears. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH DAMAGE THAT CAN CAUSE?! IT’LL SEEP INTO THE FLOORBOARDS!”
An old man yelling | Source: Midjourney
Jenna and I shared a look that said, “This is it. We’ve reached our limit. No more Ms. Nice Tenant.”
As soon as Mr. Whitaker stormed out (but not before giving us a 20-minute lecture on the “proper way” to drink coffee), we started thinking.
What could we do to stop this?
We spent the rest of the day researching tenant rights, reading our lease agreement with a fine-tooth comb, and coming up with a battle plan.
Reading a document | Source: Pexels
And we decided to use a secret weapon: a security system. (Yes, it’s legal in most cases for tenants to install their own security cameras.)
We had someone install it as soon as the system was delivered. It came with motion sensors, cameras, and a loud alarm. It also connected to the internet.
Jenna and I installed the app, and we were ready. It was definitely out of place, considering our decor and general style, but Mr. Whitaker had forced our hand.
A phone with several apps | Source: Pexels
So, the next day, we activated everything and left for our respective jobs.
Lo and behold, around 11 a.m., my phone started buzzing like crazy. The alarm had been triggered. I checked the cameras, and as expected, it was Mr. Whitaker, who had let himself in.
I called Jenna, and together we decided to call the cops, although we only used the non-emergency line. Then, we each left our jobs early.
A woman at work making a call | Source: Pexels
When we got to our apartment, Mr. Whitaker was in a heated argument with two very unimpressed-looking police officers.
“This is MY apartment!” he yelled, his face matching the color of a ripe tomato. “I have every right to be here! I OWN this building!”
The younger cop looked so done, so we approached and introduced ourselves.
“Sir,” he said slowly, “you may own this place, but you have tenants. You can’t just enter whenever you want. That’s not how this works. They have a right to privacy.”
Cops working a case | Source: Pexels
When Mr. Whitaker began sputtering, I pulled out the lease agreement, pointing out the clause about 24-hour notice for non-emergency entry.
The older cop nodded at me as if he already knew that clause would be there. Jenna and I thought this moment was great to point out how Mr. Whitaker often barged in, not taking no for an answer, and made us uncomfortable.
The officer’s frown increased the more we talked.
A cop with his arms crossed | Source: Pexels
After a huge sigh, he turned to Mr. Whitaker. “Sir, you’re in violation of the lease terms. These young women have a right to take this matter further.”
I was expecting the old landlord to complain some more, but he deflated like a sad balloon. He probably felt cornered.
He mumbled something about just trying to take care of his property, and I decided to lay it out for him.
“Mr. Whitaker, we appreciate that you care about the building. But there’s caring, and then there’s… whatever this is. We’re responsible tenants. We’ll let you know if anything needs fixing. But you can’t keep barging in like this. It’s not okay.”
A woman with a worried look | Source: Pexels
Mr. Whitaker avoided my eyes.
Jenna added her two cents. “Being a good landlord doesn’t mean invading our privacy. We just want to feel comfortable in our own home. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
The old grump nodded, but I could tell it was a begrudging agreement, so the cops gave him an official warning. They explained that if it happened again, he could face legal consequences.
Mr. Whitaker nodded again, but it was more serious, although he still looked like a kid who’d been told Santa wasn’t real.
A sad old man | Source: Midjourney
I felt bad for the sad, old man. He might have been lonely, but I don’t regret it because it’s been blissfully quiet since.
He has stuck to the lease terms like they’re glued to his hands. Not only that, but he schedules visits in advance, keeps them brief, and actually waits for us to let him in.
So here’s what I learned: Know your rights as a tenant. Document everything. Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself. And a good security system is worth its weight in gold!
Two women laughing on a couch | Source: Pexels
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