He Got Down on One Knee at My Birthday Dinner — But The Ring Wasn’t Mine.

It was supposed to be perfect — friends, laughter, candles. He stood up, smiled nervously, and said my name.

Then he opened the box.

Everyone gasped. The diamond sparkled under the restaurant lights, but my eyes went straight to the engraving inside the band — two small letters that weren’t mine.

He froze. I could see it in his eyes — recognition, confusion, panic. “It’s nothing,” he said softly. “I must’ve grabbed the wrong one.”

The wrong one? There was another?

He reached for my hands, but my pulse was too loud. “Whose name is this?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Not really. Just whispered, “I thought I’d erased everything.”

And in that moment, I realized the ring was never a mistake. It was a memory — one he’d never told me about.
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