I spent 14 long years saving every spare penny so I could finally buy my dream home. There were times I went to bed hungry because I refused to touch my savings. Finally holding the keys to my own house was meant to be the happiest day of my life. But when I came home to celebrate with my girlfriend… I was stunned.
I’m Kevin, 32, and just two months ago, my biggest possession was a battered old Honda Civic. That all changed the day I finally got the keys to my first home — something I’d wanted since I was 18 and broke.
Those years weren’t easy. After my adoptive parents cut me off after high school, I learned how to survive on my own. College meant cheap noodles, working 20-hour weeks at a gas station, and studying on textbooks that cost more than I had for groceries.
My old roommate used to tease me: “You really think you’ll ever own a house? Live a little, man!” But I couldn’t “live a little.” I had this fierce need to have something truly mine.
Things changed when I got a steady job at a tech company four years ago. Then three months ago, Betty came into my life. We met at a coffee shop, where she was arguing with a barista about making a drink that was “less caffeinated but more energetic.” I laughed and offered to buy her a normal coffee. That’s how it started.
In just a few months, Betty lit up my world. She danced in my kitchen, made me laugh on bad days, and made me believe I deserved happiness.
Then came April 13 — the day I got the keys to my new house at 428 Everwood Lane. It was a $1 million, three-bedroom home with a porch, garden, and huge backyard. I called Betty right away. She was thrilled and insisted we celebrate.
I bought a cake and flowers, my mind buzzing with dreams of cozy weekends and future plans. But when I got home and opened the door, everything stopped.
Betty was there on the couch — with her suitcases lined up. A man in a suit sat beside her, and her mom and sister stood nearby like they were waiting for a ceremony.
“Surprise, honey!” Betty chirped, holding papers.
Then she explained: these were deed transfer forms to add her name to the house. “It’s just a formality!” she said, smiling sweetly. Her family backed her up, pushing me to prove my love by signing them.
I felt my entire world spin. After 14 years of sacrifice, was I supposed to just hand over half my dream? But seeing Betty so emotional, I finally caved and took the pen.
As I started to sign, the room suddenly erupted into laughter. Betty’s family started cheering, and her friends — who had been hiding — burst out filming me.
“It’s a prank!” Betty yelled. The papers were fake, covered in nonsense text. She said they wanted to see if I’d really do it.
I stood there feeling like the biggest fool alive. The dream house party turned into a big joke at my expense.
Everyone laughed and partied for hours. Betty proudly told everyone how I was “actually going to do it,” and people thought it was adorable. I forced a smile, but inside I felt completely empty.
A month later, as we watched a sunset on the beach, I realized something: despite it all, I still loved her. I pulled out a ring and proposed.
Betty was shocked and scared at first — worried it was revenge. But when she realized I was serious, she cried and said yes.
We’re now planning a wedding for next spring, in the backyard of my house on Everwood Lane — which, for the record, still only has my name on the deed.
Looking back, that prank taught me that love isn’t about tests or manipulation. It’s about choosing each other every day, no matter what. Betty’s prank nearly broke me, but it also showed me just how far I’d go for love.
In the end, we both learned something: some jokes are funny only once, and some commitments can’t be forced — they have to be chosen freely.