Patrick and I had been together for two years. Every time I brought up moving in together or getting engaged, his response was always the same:

“We don’t know each other well enough yet.”

Okay. I waited. I was patient.

Then, last month, my aunt passed away and left me her three-bedroom apartment.

I told Patrick about it. And that very night? He MAGICALLY “knew me well enough” and PROPOSED ON HIS KNEES.

The same guy who wasn’t ready just two weeks ago suddenly had a ring in his hand.

I felt bad. It wasn’t me he wanted—it was the free apartment.

But instead of calling him out, I played along.

I gasped, clutched my chest, and put on the biggest smile of my life.

“Yes! I’ll marry you!”

His eyes lit up—but then I raised a finger.

“With ONE condition.”

“Anything, darling!” he smiled.

I took a deep breath and dropped the bomb.

“From now on, you’ll ALWAYS follow ONE of my rules.”

His smile faltered. “What rule?”

I looked him straight in the eye. “We split everything 50/50. Rent, groceries, bills. No free rides—even in a free apartment.”

He laughed nervously, trying to brush it off. “Oh, babe, that’s cute. But if the place is already paid for, what am I even paying into?”

“That’s the point,” I said. “If you love me, you’ll want to contribute.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, of course.”

Over the next few weeks, we “planned” the wedding—but Patrick never once talked about venues or vows. He only talked about furniture upgrades, “renovation ideas,” and how we could “flip the place” for more money someday. He even suggested turning my aunt’s old office into a home gym—for him, not us.

So I gave him another test.

I told him I was thinking of donating part of the inheritance to a domestic abuse shelter my aunt supported. Her wish, I said.

Patrick’s smile froze like he’d bitten into a lemon.

“Donate? Why? That money could be our starter fund. A honeymoon. A new car.”

“She always wanted to help women starting over,” I replied. “It feels right.”

He sighed. “Okay, maybe a small donation. But don’t go overboard.”

So I went overboard—on purpose. I wrote a big check to the shelter and asked them to mail me a printed thank-you letter.

When it arrived, I left it on the kitchen table for all to see.

That night, Patrick came home, saw the letter, and just stood there—quiet.

“You donated how much?” he finally said, eyes scanning the paper.

“Thirty grand,” I said, casually. “That’s what she would’ve wanted.”

He scoffed. “We could’ve bought a Tesla with that.”

I shrugged. “Or helped thirty women escape abusive homes. Guess it depends on your definition of value.”

Patrick got cold after that.

He stopped bringing up the wedding. Started working late. Took “calls” outside. Even canceled dinner with my mom twice in one week. I knew what was coming.

Then, one Sunday morning, he dropped the act.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, not looking me in the eye. “Maybe we rushed this engagement.”

I smiled sadly. “You mean, maybe we don’t know each other well enough yet?”

He blinked.

And that was it.

He packed his things the next day. Didn’t even try to fight for the ring.

A week later, I bumped into his coworker at a bookstore—Salome, sweet girl, always friendly. I casually mentioned the breakup. She raised her eyebrows.

“Oh wow,” she said. “He was still telling people he was single at work.”

Not surprising. Just confirmation.

You know the funny part? I never wanted to trap or trick him. I just wanted to know—did he love me, or the apartment? The money. The perks?

Turns out, it wasn’t me.

And honestly, I’m grateful.

Because that test saved me years of wondering. Wondering if he would’ve stayed if the money disappeared. Wondering if he loved the version of me who struggled—before the inheritance.

Since then, I’ve turned my aunt’s old office into a reading nook. No gym equipment in sight. I’ve started volunteering at the shelter too, meeting women who’ve rebuilt from scratch. Their strength inspires me more than any man ever could.

Here’s what I learned: Love that only shows up when money does? That’s not love.

So test it. Don’t withhold kindness or affection—but ask the real questions. See what happens when things aren’t easy. The people who stay? Who support you even when you’re giving, not just receiving?

That’s who you keep.

If this story hit home, please share it—someone out there might need this reminder today.