You Know Nothing about Me

The custom-designed ring felt warm against my palm as I climbed the stairs to our shared apartment, my heart racing with anticipation.

Six months of careful planning had led to this moment—the perfect proposal ring, crafted with my own hands, waiting for the right moment to change everything between Jett and me.

I'd spent weeks sketching the design, choosing the stone, perfecting every detail. It wasn't expensive by conventional standards, but it was mine, created with love for the man who'd seen past my unfashionable exterior to fall for my soul. At least, that's what he'd told me the night we first kissed under the campus oak tree.

"Robin, you're different," he'd whispered against my lips. "You're real. I've never met anyone like you."

Those words had carried me through months of self-doubt, through Anastasia's gentle suggestions about updating my wardrobe, through the whispered comments from other girls about how someone like Jett could end up with someone like me.

But love was supposed to conquer all of that, wasn't it?

I paused outside our apartment door, smoothing down my oversized sweater—one of many that Anastasia had diplomatically suggested I retire. The ring box pressed against my ribs where I'd tucked it into my jacket pocket. Maybe tonight, after dinner, I'd finally work up the courage to—

A sound stopped me cold. Soft, rhythmic, unmistakably intimate.

My key froze halfway to the lock. The sounds were coming from inside our living room, and they definitely weren't coming from the television.

With trembling fingers, I turned the key and pushed the door open.

The world tilted sideways.

There, on our worn couch—the one Anastasia and I had bought together at a thrift store freshman year—two figures were tangled together in a way that made my stomach drop to my feet. Blonde hair spilled over the armrest, and I recognized the expensive silk blouse I'd watched Anastasia try on just this morning.

But it was the dark hair, the familiar broad shoulders, the laugh I'd fallen asleep listening to over the phone countless nights that made my vision blur.

Jett.

My Jett.

With my roommate. My best friend.

The ring box seemed to burn through my jacket as they broke apart, both turning to look at me with expressions that ranged from surprise to something that looked almost like... relief?

"Robin!" Anastasia scrambled to adjust her disheveled clothing, her cheeks flushed. "You're back early. I thought you had that design class until—"

"What the hell is this?" The words tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

Jett didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed. Instead, he ran a hand through his tousled hair and fixed me with a look I'd never seen before—cold, almost amused.

"Well," he said, his voice carrying none of the warmth I'd grown to love, "I guess we don't have to pretend anymore."

Pretend?

The room spun around me. "Pretend what? Jett, what are you talking about? You said you loved me. You said—"

"Oh, Robin." His