My Fiancé Proposes But Not to Me

The quarterly PR metrics blurred on my screen as I leaned back in my leather chair, mentally calculating which campaigns needed adjustment before the board meeting next week.

The numbers told a good story—brand sentiment up twelve percent, crisis response time cut in half. Alan would be pleased.

We'd worked too hard building this company's reputation to let it slip now.

A sudden eruption of voices shattered my concentration.

Footsteps thundered past my office door. Chairs scraped against floors. The usual hum of productivity dissolved into chaos as employees abandoned their desks, clustering around computer screens like moths to flame.

"The CEO is going live with a major announcement!" someone shouted, their voice pitched with excitement.

I frowned, fingers hovering over my keyboard. Alan hadn't mentioned any announcement. As head of PR, I approved every public statement, every press release, every social media post. This wasn't protocol.

My phone sat silent on the desk—no warning text, no courtesy heads-up from my fiancé about whatever surprise he'd planned.

Through the glass walls of my corner office, I watched the entire floor transform into a viewing party. Screens glowed with the company's livestream logo. Someone laughed. Another person gasped.

The energy felt celebratory, anticipatory, like they were witnessing something momentous.

Curiosity overrode my irritation.

I minimized the spreadsheet and opened the company's official livestream platform. Maybe Alan had finally decided to announce our engagement publicly. He'd been hinting at making some grand gesture, something that would cement our partnership in the eyes of the company. Perhaps this was his way of combining the personal and professional—very him, very calculated.

The video loaded. The stream counter showed 47,000 viewers and climbing.

The camera angle was perfect—professional lighting, the marble lobby serving as a backdrop, the company logo subtly visible on the wall behind. Someone in production knew what they were doing.

The frame centered on a figure kneeling, and my breath caught.

Alan.

My Alan, in his charcoal Tom Ford suit, the one I'd helped him pick out last month. The overhead lights caught the silver at his temples, making him look distinguished, powerful. In his hands, he held a small velvet box, open to reveal a diamond that threw prismatic light across the polished floor.

Pride swelled in my chest for a moment. He'd actually done it. He'd—

The camera panned up.

Not to me.

To Luna.

His secretary Luna, standing there in a cream dress I'd never seen before, both hands pressed to her mouth, tears already streaming down her face. Her eyes—wide, disbelieving, overwhelmed—stared down at Alan with an expression I recognized because I'd imagined wearing it myself.

The office sounds faded to white noise. My coffee cup felt cold under my palm.

Alan's voice carried through my speakers, warm and intimate. "Luna, from the moment you walked into my life, everything changed. You make me want to be a better man. Will you marry me?"

She nodded, sobbing. "Yes! Yes, of course!"

The livestream chat exploded with heart emojis