At Ethan Cole’s birthday party, I proposed to him.

Amid the cheers, his close “sister-brother” suddenly objected!

The room went silent.

Rachel Carter crossed her arms, smiling with open provocation.

“Sure, you can marry him—if your woman hikes the Mount Rainier Circuit with you first!”

The crowd erupted into even louder jeers and applause.

My face turned pale as I looked at my boyfriend.

Ethan spat at Rachel, half-laughing.

“Damn it, you stole my line!”

Rachel shrugged carelessly. “Please. Which one of us brothers hasn’t been through life-and-death with you? Your future wife can’t rank below us, right?”

The heckling grew louder.

Ethan turned back to me, his eyes shining.

“Zoe, let’s finish Rainier and then get married!”

I gritted my teeth and nodded.

But the night before departure, Rachel hid my satellite phone—claiming it was just to scare me.

She didn’t realize that stunt nearly cost the whole trip.

In six years together, Ethan had never truly intended to marry me.

I thought bringing it up at his birthday party might finally force the issue.

I hadn’t expected Rachel to tie my proposal to an extreme trek.

“Ethan, haven’t you always wanted to do Rainier?”

“But your girlfriend doesn’t look like she can handle hardship.”

“Not like me. I can trek the EBC circuit with you.”

Rachel gave me a mocking once-over.

Before I could react, Ethan slung his arm around her neck, laughing.

“Yeah right! Who was it in Nepal that froze at night and crawled into my sleeping bag? You’re no tougher than Zoe!”

They laughed together, an invisible barrier shutting me out.

The whole crowd was swept up by Rachel’s words, buzzing with excitement about the Rainier adventure—routes, gear, past stories.

Ethan let go of Rachel, still smiling, then looked at me—completely off-topic.

“Don’t worry, Zoe. I know the routes and gear. You’ll have fun, it’ll be smoother than Everest!”

Rachel butted in again. “Oh please. Without me, you’d get lost. I’m coming too, otherwise your petite girlfriend…”

“Shut up!” Ethan laughed, pushing her aside.

The two of them fell into another round of playful bickering, leaving no room for me.

No one looked at me.

No one remembered—it was me who had just proposed.

My happiness, my future, became nothing more than a pretext to spark their brotherly nostalgia.

I was an outsider, watching my boyfriend and his “bros” plan a pre-marriage trial without my say.

They set the schedule, discussed time off, even planned shopping trips for gear.

My wishes? My feelings? Didn’t matter.

It was as if all I needed to do was tag along and survive the challenge, and I’d earn a ticket to marriage.

Six years.

I had waited six years.

Not to be put through a damn qualification test!

My heart chilled as I watched the laughing crowd, the man I’d loved for so long.

They kept laughing.

Ethan even raised his glass, toasting the sudden mountaineering trip.

And at that moment, I grabbed the cake that read “Happy Birthday! Marry Me”.

“Everybody shut the fuck up!”

My voice pierced through the room.

Everyone turned in shock.

The next second, I hurled the cake—the one holding all my pathetic hopes—onto the floor with all my strength!

Frosting splattered, the sponge shattered.

Dead silence fell over the party.

Rachel yelped indignantly:

“Ugh! It’s all over me!”

“So disgusting!”

“Someone get me some napkins!”

Ethan reacted first, immediately wiping her bare legs without hesitation.

Only after cleaning her up did he glare at me in anger.

“Zoe Miller, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s my birthday! Can’t you stop being difficult for just one day?”

I looked at Ethan’s angry face, my chest aching.

“Ethan Cole, forget the marriage.”

“Take your Mount Rainier trip with your life-and-death buddies instead.”

Without sparing Rachel a glance, I shoved past the crowd and stormed out of the party.

Ethan didn’t return until past midnight.

He woke me roughly with a kiss.

“Zoe…”

“I was wrong tonight, okay? My bros were there—I had to save face, right?”

I stayed silent, body stiff.

He took it as permission, continuing in that wheedling tone I once couldn’t resist.

“You hate me doing those extreme adventures. Haven’t I behaved all these years?”

He looked at me with hazy eyes.

“I promise, Rainier will be the last time. Really—the last!”

Something in my chest twinged.

Six years—I knew this routine too well.

Every mistake came with a sincere apology. Every vow sounded heartfelt.

And every time, I forgave him.

He sensed the crack in my resistance, pulling me into a heated kiss.

After some intimacy, he went to wash up.

That’s when I saw the glaring red marks on his neck.

Marks I hadn’t left.

Ethan didn’t notice my expression, disappearing into the bathroom.

His phone, tossed onto the nightstand, lit up again and again.

On impulse, I reached for it.

Unlocked, it opened straight to a group chat named “Ride-or-Die Bros.”

Rachel had posted a string of videos.

The background was clearly another nightclub.

After I’d stormed out, they had moved on to continue partying.

I opened the first video.

The camera shook, music blaring.

Someone shouted: “You lost, Ethan! Pick someone to kiss!”

In the center, Ethan, face red with drink, grinned recklessly.

His gaze swept the room, then he pulled Rachel into his arms—

and kissed her. Hard.

Not a playful peck.

A full, tongue-twisting kiss, lasting over ten seconds.

The bros around them screamed with excitement, like watching the show of their lives.

My stomach churned violently.

Under the video, Rachel tagged Ethan:

“Sonny boy, don’t let your jealous wifey see this video~”

“Got the fake leave approved! Saturday’s on!”

Another reply followed immediately—Big Mike chiming in:

“Why not just leave your wife behind, Ethan? Saves us from having to drag her back mid-trek. I’m all in for the full circuit!”

“Ethan’s wife is way too uptight. Total buzzkill.”

“Rachel’s the real deal—she fits right in! Ethan, maybe you should just go with Rachel instead?”

Rachel quickly replied in the thread, half-joking:

“Shut up! Careful, Zoe finds out and smears cake on your face!”

The same people who pretended polite to me in person were this shameless in their own world.

My chest burned with fury and disgust.

Then Rachel sent me a private message:

“This Rainier trip? I’m going to scare the hell out of your woman.”

“Give her a memory she’ll never forget—don’t you dare pity her.”

I didn’t open the thread, but those words—scare her—made cold sweat break out all over me.

Her past “jokes” flooded back to me.

And this time, on a perilous mountain circuit?

Her “joke” wouldn’t just be a prank.

The shower stopped.

I quickly locked his phone and put it back.

Before Ethan came out of the bathroom, I slipped into the guest room and locked the door.

That night, he snored peacefully in the master bedroom, unbothered.

I lay awake in the dark, eyes wide open till dawn.

The next morning, Ethan left early.

He’d scribbled a cheerful note on the table:

“Off to work, babe. Start picking out that wedding dress~”

What was that?

A slap followed by a candy?

Ethan never changed his tricks.

I crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash.

Ten minutes later, Rachel posted on her Facebook feed:

“Someone’s got the adventure itch again! But with a jealous wife around, no more rescue-breath for you!”

Nine glossy photos followed—

all of her kissing Ethan in various places, poses intimate and practiced, not some spur-of-the-moment game.

Ironically, not a single mutual friend liked or commented.

The post was set only visible to me.

Apparently last night’s proposal had set her off.

Every day she flaunted their so-called brotherly bond, hammering it in—I’m the real one.

Expressionless, I scrolled past, burying myself in trekking guides.

By Friday, the day before departure, she finally posted something public:

“Heading out on another adventure with my men!”

The photo was an old group shot, carefully cropped.

She smiled boldly, arms slung around the bros.

In the middle, where I should’ve been—she’d cut me clean out, leaving a glaring gap.

Ethan’s name appeared almost instantly in the comments:

“My boy, this time I’ve gotta take care of my wife. You’re on your own!”

Rachel replied with a bawling emoji:

“Biggest regret ever! Who’ll give me piggyback rides now?”

“How about telling your woman not to come?”

Ethan’s comeback was quick, playful as always:

“If you’re scared, then don’t come this time.”

That single, careless line seemed to pierce her facade.

Moments later, my private messages lit up:

“Hiking is dangerous. If someone’s not careful, even the body might never be found.”

The text flashed for just two seconds before she deleted it.

A cold smile spread inside me, though my face stayed calm.