I worked 14 years to buy my first home. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night,

every skipped meal was for this dream. The day I got the keys,

I was on top of the world. I called my girlfriend of three months,

Betty, to come celebrate.

But when I walked into the house, everything stopped.

She wasn’t alone. Her mom, sister, and a lawyer were there—along with her suitcases.

Betty smiled and said, “Surprise! I want us to be on the deed together.”

Then her mom chimed in, “If you love her, prove it.” I was stunned.

We’d never even talked about this.

My hands trembled as I picked up the pen. I loved her—but this?

I was about to sign when suddenly, they burst out laughing. “It’s a prank!” Betty shouted.

Fake documents. Hidden cameras.

Friends pouring out of the kitchen recording everything like it was a sitcom. My heart sank.

They thought it was hilarious.

I smiled for the crowd,

but I never forgot how they tested my love by mocking my dream.

A month later, I proposed—on my terms, not theirs

. She said yes. But the house? Still mine alone.

Some lessons only need to be learned once.

And trust, once shaken, never feels quite the same.