My fianceé said, “If you won’t move to NYC with me, you’re not husband material.” I offered compromises. She chose public humiliation instead. Until the plot twist neither of us saw coming. I need some perspective here because I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my mind. My fiance, Ava, and I have been together for 6 years.

 We got engaged 4 months ago. We’ve already picked out a venue. Our families are excited. Everything seemed like it was finally falling into place. I’m a mechanical engineer at a manufacturing plant here in Pittsburgh. It’s solid work, good pay, and I own my house outright about 20 minutes from my parents. Ava works in PR and marketing for a local firm, and she’s damn good at it.

 3 weeks ago, everything changed. Ava got contacted by a major agency in Manhattan for her literal dream position, head of communications for a luxury brand portfolio. The kind of opportunity she’s talked about since we met. When she told me about the interview, I was genuinely happy for her. I remember exactly what I said.

 If this is your dream, I’ll find a way to support it. And I meant what I said. I really did. Here’s where it gets complicated. My job isn’t remote friendly. We design and test industrial equipment. So, I need to be on the floor. And big cities like NYC aren’t exactly hubs for manufacturing engineering.

 Most of those operations are in places like Pittsburgh, the Midwest, or the South, where there’s actually space and infrastructure for it. My dad also had a minor stroke last year. Nothing life-threatening, but I drive him to his specialist appointments twice a week. My mom still works full-time and can’t always take him.

 I’m not saying any of this to guilt anyone, just laying out why I can’t just snap my fingers and relocate overnight. When Ava first got the interview news, she was understanding. We talked about it like partners. She spent hours researching companies in NYC that might need mechanical engineers. She even suggested I could freelance consult while transitioning or that she’d cover rent for a few months if I needed time to find something.

 She looked into my dad’s medical network to see if his specialists had NYC equivalents. She was really trying and I appreciated it. But after she flew out for the first round interview, something shifted. She came back different, more impatient. I guess I get it. She saw the opportunity up close and suddenly Pittsburgh probably felt smaller.

 The timeline became more real. The conversations changed from how do we make this work to when are you putting in your notice? I understood her frustration. She’d been patient for 2 weeks, done the research, offered solutions, and I was still hesitating. Part of me felt guilty, like maybe she was right to be frustrated.

Maybe I was overthinking everything. But when I tried explaining my situation again and she cut me off with, “You just need to take a risk for once.” That stung because I’ve taken plenty of risks. I bought my house at 27. I switched jobs 2 years ago for better opportunities, but apparently those don’t count as the right kind of risks.

Then she started making comments about Pittsburgh, calling it slow, saying NYC would make me grow as a person. Every conversation about the move became less of a discussion and more of her telling me what I needed to do. The partnership feeling started evaporating. Last week, I suggested what I thought were reasonable compromises.

Maybe I could commute on weekends for the first 6 months while I lined something up in New York. Or we could try long distance with a clear plan and regular visits. or she could go first, get settled, and I’d follow within a year once I had my family situation more stable. She literally laughed at the six-month idea.

 Not a fun laugh, a dismissive one, she said. 6 months, that’s what people with average goals do. I’m not average. I need a partner who keeps up. That sentence has been playing on loop in my head for days. I’m not average. I need a partner who keeps up. Like I’m some kind of burden she’s dragging behind her.

 Yesterday she found out she got the job. She was ecstatic and I was happy for her. I really was. But she didn’t ask me how I felt about the timeline. Didn’t ask about my dad or my job search. She just announced I’m taking the job. You’re coming with me. Don’t make this difficult. Not we’re doing this together. Not I need your support. Just an order.

 I tried bringing up my concerns again and she snapped. She said if I really loved her, I’d prioritize her career the way she’s had to prioritize mine. Which confused me because she’s never had to sacrifice anything for my job. I’ve worked around her schedule, supported her networking events, never complained when she traveled for work.

 Now she’s giving me a deadline. She starts in 6 weeks, and I need to make my decision by then. But it doesn’t feel like a decision anymore. It feels like compliance or abandonment. Am I being selfish here? Is wanting to handle my responsibilities before approing my entire life really that unreasonable? Or am I just afraid of change like she keeps implying? I love her, but I’m starting to realize I might not recognize who she’s becoming.

 Edit: Thanks for all the responses. No, she hasn’t always been like this. That’s what’s throwing me off. The Ava I fell in love with was supportive and patient. This version feels like a stranger wearing her face. Some of you asked if I’ve looked for jobs in NYC. I actually have quietly.

 And to be honest, it’s not easy. So, I didn’t want to tell her until I knew if anything was viable. No bites yet, but I’m trying. I just don’t want to tell her and have her use it as ammunition that I’m not trying hard enough. Update one posted 12 days later. So, things have deteriorated faster than I expected.

 First off, thank you to everyone who commented on my original post. Reading your perspectives helped me realize I’m not crazy for feeling steamrolled. A few of you warned me that Ava’s behavior might get worse, and you were unfortunately right. After I posted, Ava spent the next few days in what I can only describe as full NYC prep mode.

 She started looking at apartments in Manhattan, sending me listings that cost more per month than my mortgage. When I pointed out we’d need to discuss budget, she literally rolled her eyes at me and said, “You need to start thinking bigger. Not we, you.” She also started talking differently about Pittsburgh. She called it a no growth town in front of my friends at dinner last weekend.

Said, “People who stay here are comfortable with mediocrity. No one said anything because no one wanted to turn the meal into an argument. But my buddy Jake, who’s a surgeon, raised his eyebrows at me like, “Is she serious?” I didn’t know what to say. But here’s where it really went sideways. Ava has been venting to her friends about our situation.

I know because two mutual friends reached out to me separately, confused, asking what’s happening and if we’re good. Apparently, Ava has been framing this as Theo refuses to grow with me and Theo wants to ruin my career. Not once did she mention my dad’s health or my job constraints. I’m just the selfish boyfriend who won’t immediately drop my whole life and sacrifice for her dreams.

One of them, Sarah, actually asked me, “Why are you trying to hold Ava back?” I was so stunned. I didn’t even know how to respond. I’m not holding anyone back. I’m trying to be realistic about logistics. The conversations at home have gotten worse, too. Two nights ago, we were discussing the move again.

 And I brought up the idea of me visiting every other weekend until I could relocate permanently. She actually scoffed and said, “If you don’t move, I’ll resent you forever. Every single day, I’ll resent you. You cannot hold me back forever like this.” That hit different. Not I’ll miss you or it’ll be hard.

 Just cold, calculated resentment like I’m an obstacle, not her fiance. Here’s something I haven’t told her yet. Remember how I mentioned I was quietly job hunting in NYC? Well, I got a response. A midsized engineering firm in Brooklyn reached out about a senior design position. They want to do a video interview next week.

 The role looks solid. The pay is actually a decent bump from what I make now, and they mentioned relocation assistance. It’s different from what I do now. More design and consulting work, less hands-on manufacturing floor time. They focus on specialty equipment prototyping rather than fullcale production. It would mean more desk work, more client meetings, less getting my hands dirty with the actual builds.

 Not necessarily better or worse, just different. But it would still be quite a shift for me. I should be excited, right? But I’m not because even if I get this job, even if I do everything she’s asking, I don’t think it’ll change how she’s treating me. She’s already decided I’m the problem, and I’m starting to think that even if I move tomorrow, she’ll just find something else to criticize.

 Last night really crystallized things for me. We were watching TV and an ad came on for some Manhattan highrise. Ava turned to me and said completely seriously, “If you stay here, you’ll be a nobody in 10 years. Think about it. A nobody. I’ve been with this woman for 6 years. I’ve supported her through job changes, family drama, everything.

 And now I’m going to be a nobody because I have the audacity to have responsibilities beyond her career timeline. I’m doing the interview anyway, not because she’s pressuring me, but because I need to know if I even want this for myself or if I’m just trying to appease someone who’s already made up her mind about who I am.

 The engagement feels like it’s hanging by a thread. And honestly, I’m not sure I’m the one who cut it. Edit: A lot of you are saying I should just end it now. I hear you, but six years is six years, you know. I want to make sure I’ve done everything I can before I walk away from this, even if she’s not giving me the same courtesy.

 The interview is Tuesday. I’ll let you know how it goes, though. At this point, I’m more interested in seeing if this is even what I want anymore. Update 2 posted 9 days later. Holy I don’t even know where to start. The interview went well. I think the Brooklyn firm seemed really interested, asked good questions, told me they’d have an answer within the week. I still haven’t told Ara about it.

That probably tells you everything you need to know about where my head is at. But that’s not even the main update. Buckle up because this got absolutely wild. Ava decided to throw a party last Saturday. She called it a goodbye Pittsburgh gathering at our house. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but whatever. I figured she wanted to celebrate with friends before the move.

 About 30 people showed up, mostly her work friends and some mutual acquaintances. Everything was fine at first. People were drinking, laughing, the usual party stuff. Then Ava started giving a speech. She thanked everyone for their support. Talked about how excited she was for her next chapter. All normal stuff. Then she said, “And I really hope my future husband will finally decide to think big and join me instead of being stuck in his childhood zip code.

” The room went quiet, like immediately. She was smiling like she’d made a good joke, but it wasn’t a joke. She looked right at me when she said it. Someone laughed nervously. Most people just stared at their drinks. I stood up and walked out. Didn’t say a word. Just left my own house and sat in my car for 20 minutes. Jake followed me out, asked if I was okay.

 I told him I honestly didn’t know anymore. When I came back inside, the party was wrapping up. Ava was in the kitchen with her friends and I heard one of them say, “That was a bit harsh, Ava.” Ava responded, “He needs to hear the truth.” “The truth? Like I’m some project that needs fixing. Everyone left within the hour.

” Ava tried to talk to me that night, but I told her I needed space. She slept in the guest room. We’ve barely spoken since. But here’s the absolute kicker. The plot twist I did not see coming. Yesterday morning, Ava got an email from the NYC company. They withdrew the job offer. She came out of the bedroom white as a sheet holding her phone.

 At first, I thought maybe she was sick. Then she showed me the email. Professional brief corporate speak. After careful consideration and review of recent publicly available information, we have decided to withdraw our offer. We wish you the best in your future endeavors. She was in shock. I was confused.

 What publicly available information? Turns out one of her friends posted videos from the party on Instagram with a caption that was not great. something along the lines of can’t wait for our girl to leave this boring town behind with laughing emojis and tags to everyone who attended, including apparently someone who knew someone at the NYC company.

 But it gets worse. Ava had also posted some stories during her interview trip last month making fun of Pittsburgh, calling it culturally dead, stuff like that. Professional acquaintances could see them. Apparently, someone at the agency saw the posts and the party stuff, and it raised concerns about her cultural fit and professionalism.

 Ava was interviewing for head of communications. Her entire job would be managing public image and brand reputation for luxury clients. The fact that she couldn’t manage her own social media presence was apparently a massive red flag. If she couldn’t demonstrate basic professional judgment on her personal accounts, how could they trust her with milliondoll brand accounts? I should feel vindicated.

 I should feel like this is karma. But mostly, I just feel empty. She spent weeks telling me I wasn’t good enough, that I was holding her back, that I needed to be better. And she lost everything because she couldn’t stop looking down on the life we built together. She’s been crying for two days straight. She asked me what she should do if I could help her fix this somehow.

I told her I didn’t know because I honestly don’t. The worst part or is it? I got a call yesterday afternoon while Ava was still spiraling. The Brooklyn firm, they want to make me an offer. Senior design engineer, 30% pay increase, full relocation package starting in 2 months if I want it. I’m sitting on a job offer in the exact city she just lost her dream job in.

 And I have no idea what to do with that information. I haven’t told her yet. I don’t know if I should. Part of me thinks she’ll somehow make this about how I’m abandoning her or proving her point that I never wanted to support her. The irony is almost too much. I’m sleeping in my own guest room now. The house feels like a tomb.

 The engagement photos are still on the mantle, but they might as well be from another lifetime. I don’t know what happens next. I genuinely don’t. Final update posted 11 days later. I need to close the loop on this because some of you have been deeming me asking what happened. Fair warning, this is going to be long, but there’s a lot to cover.

 4 days after my last post, Ava showed up at my door at 11 p.m. I should mention I wasn’t at our house anymore. I’ve been staying at my buddy Jake’s place since the night I found out about both job situations. When I told Ava I needed space and was leaving for a few days, she completely lost it.

 She just gotten the rejection email that morning, was already devastated, and then I announced I was leaving. From her perspective, it probably looked like I was abandoning her at her lowest point. She kept saying, “You’re leaving me now when I need you.” She tried blocking the door, then followed me to my car, begging me to just stay and talk it through, but I couldn’t.

 I needed to think without her in my ear. She’d been calling and texting non-stop since then. I’d responded a few times, just enough to confirm I was safe and needed time. That night, I was up in Jake’s guest room when I heard the doorbell. Then Jake knocked on my door. “Ava’s downstairs,” he said quietly. “She’s crying. Says she needs to see you.” I went downstairs.

She looked wrecked like she hadn’t slept in days, which was probably true. She immediately started apologizing, saying she’d been horrible, that she understood now how badly she’d treated me. She said we could still move to NYC together, that she’d find another job, that we could start over there and build something better.

 And then she said something that really stuck with me. Please help me fix this. We can still make it work. I need you. Not I love you. Not I was wrong about who you are. Just I need you. I let her finish. Then I told her about the Brooklyn job offer. I watched her face cycle through about six different emotions in 10 seconds.

Confusion, disbelief, something that looked almost like anger, then this weird forced excitement. That’s amazing, she said too brightly. See, it was meant to be. We can both go now. This is perfect. Ava, when did you find out? Why didn’t you tell me we could have celebrated together? This fixes everything.

 She was talking faster now, almost manic, reaching for my hands. I pulled back. It doesn’t fix anything. I said quietly. Her expression shifted again. The fake excitement drained away and something uglier took its place. You knew, she said. You knew before I lost my job, didn’t you? I interviewed the day after your party. And you didn’t tell me.

 Her voice was rising. You let me fall apart while you had this the whole time. You were just waiting, weren’t you? Waiting to see me fail so you could swoop in with your perfect job offer and prove you were right all along. She choked on the words, but the tears were different now. Not sad, angry. Everything I asked you to do, she hissed. You get to do it anyway.

 You get to move to New York. You get to be the one who succeeded. And I get to be the failure who lost everything. You planned this. You want me to see it that you’re going where I can’t. That you’re better than me. That you won. Ava, stop. Did it feel good? Her voice was shaking, watching me beg you to move with me while you already had this lined up.

 Was this your revenge? Make me look desperate and pathetic while you, Ava, you didn’t lose the job because of me. You lost it because of who you became. She started to argue to say it was the company’s fault for being uptight about social media, that her friends had sabotaged her. I cut her off. You tried at first. You really did.

 You researched jobs for me. You offered to help. You were patient. I saw that and I appreciated it. But then you changed. You stopped seeing me as a partner and started seeing me as dead weight. You called me a nobody. You said I was stuck. You humiliated me in front of our friends. You spent weeks treating me like I was the problem in your life.

 And now that it’s fallen apart, you want me to save you. That’s not a partnership. That’s not even respect. She broke down full-on sobbing. The kind where you can’t catch your breath. Then she was back to begging me to reconsider. said she’d been under so much stress that the opportunity had made her crazy.

 She reached for my hand and I pulled away. I told her we were done. Not as a punishment, not as revenge, but because I finally saw clearly what you all saw weeks ago. She didn’t want a partner. She wanted someone to follow her around and validate her while she climbed. And the moment I couldn’t be that person fast enough, I became disposable.

 The breakup scene was messy. She alternated between crying and yelling. At one point, she screamed that I was punishing her for having ambition. It was honestly one of the worst nights of my life, watching someone I’d loved for 6 years completely fall apart while knowing there was nothing I could or should do to fix it. She left around 1:00 a.m.

 I helped her to her yuber because despite everything, I didn’t want her driving in that state. The next few days were brutal. She texted me constantly, sent voice messages, had mutual friends reach out. Her mom even called me, which was awkward as hell. I stayed firm. I told everyone the same thing.

 I loved Ava, but I couldn’t marry someone who didn’t respect me. Eventually, the messages slowed down. I took the NYC job. I moved 3 weeks ago. I’m writing this from a small studio in Park Slope, Brooklyn. It’s a fifth of the size of my house in Pittsburgh. Costs three times as much. And the guy upstairs practices drums at weird hours.

 But it’s mine, my choice, my life. Work is challenging in a good way. My team is solid. The projects are interesting, and nobody here knows anything about my personal drama, which is refreshing. I’ve been exploring the neighborhood on weekends, found a decent coffee shop, joined a climbing gym. My dad is doing okay.

 My brother stepped up to handle the appointments while I’m gone and we do video calls twice a week. Dad actually joked last time that maybe the stroke was worth it because now both his sons call him more often. But really, he’s just happy he didn’t become the reason his son turned down a good opportunity. The house in Pittsburgh is rented out.

My realtor said I could sell it, but I’m not ready for that permanence yet. Maybe in a year, maybe never. We’ll see. As for Ava, I know from mutual friends that she’s back at her old PR firm. They took her back, which is good. She’s apparently dating someone already, which was weird to hear, but not as painful as I expected.

 A few people told me she’s been talking about what went wrong with us, but I haven’t heard her version. I don’t need to. I know mine. Someone from Ava’s friend group actually sent me screenshots last week of a group chat where Ava was still trying to spin the story as me abandoning her in her time of need. I blocked everyone in that chat. I’m done with that chapter.

 The engagement ring is in a safety deposit box. I don’t know what to do with it yet. Probably should return it eventually, but right now it feels like evidence of a crime scene and I’m not ready to process it. I’m not going to lie and say I’m completely healed or that everything is perfect now. Some nights I still replay arguments in my head wondering if I could have handled things differently.

 I miss the Ava from years 1 through 5. I mourn that version of us. But I don’t miss who she became and I definitely don’t miss how she made me feel. Looking back, I see now that she didn’t fall in love with NYC. She fell in love with the idea of who she’d become there. And that person didn’t have room for the real me.

 Only the version of me that existed to support her narrative. Turns out I wasn’t afraid of New York City. I was afraid of building a future with someone who’d looked down on me once she got there. And leaving her behind was the easiest decision I ever made.