We’d been together for seven years, but during that entire time, my fiancée rejected the idea of getting married ninety-nine times, all because of a male intern.

The first time, she canceled our vacation at the last minute, saying the intern was stuck on a night shift and afraid of the dark. She got on a flight that very night and rushed back to the hospital.

The second time, we were already halfway through the doors of the courthouse to get our marriage registered. But just then, she got word that the intern had collapsed from exhaustion. Without a second thought, she left me standing alone in the snow for the entire day.

After that, it became a pattern. Every time we were together, the intern would find some excuse to pull her away. Eventually, I made up my mind to let go. I stopped dreaming about a happy marriage with her.

However, just when I announced I was transferring to another city, she broke down, begging me, almost hysterically, not to leave.

The courthouse steps were warm from how long I’d been sitting there.

For what felt like the hundredth time, I lit up my phone screen and stared at the last message Annie Sanders had sent three hours ago.

“A medical emergency just came in. Give me a few minutes.”

However, those “few minutes” had turned into hours.

Finally, that familiar white SUV pulled up. I stood up so fast I nearly tripped over myself.

Then, I froze. Sitting in the passenger seat was Joseph Quinn, the same intern who’d haunted our relationship like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

Annie rolled down the window, her voice carrying the same urgency I’d come to know too well.

“Get in! Joseph’s having heart palpitations. We have to get him to the hospital now!”

Right on cue, Joseph let out a pained groan, curling up in his seat.

I turned my eyes to him and noticed something. His hair had clearly been styled, and beneath his white coat, I could see a neatly pressed shirt collar. His skin even looked healthier than mine.

Was that what a medical emergency looked like? Did she forget I was a doctor too?

I took a deep breath before asking, “Annie, do you remember what today is? We were supposed to get our marriage registered.”

She slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “I know! But he’s in critical condition right now. Can we not argue about this now?”

Joseph lifted his head weakly, putting on that fake, selfless act of his. “I’ll be fine, Dr. Sanders. You two should get your paperwork done. I… I’ll take a cab back.”

As he reached for his seatbelt, he turned just slightly, and that was when I saw the smug, satisfied smile he flashed at me. In that moment, I knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, to Annie, all this made me look unreasonable again.

She raised her voice and kept his hand on the seatbelt. “Are you serious, Finn? Look at him! We can get married any day. What if something happens to him? This is a matter of life and death! Stop being so selfish!”

Selfish?

The three of us were doctors. His poor acting was practically an insult to our profession.

“He was joking around at the nurses' station during his rounds this morning, and now he’s suddenly headed for the ICU?”

“Enough!” Annie shoved the door open. “He has tachycardia and shortness of breath. He could go into–”

“Into what? Respiratory arrest?” I cut her off. “Do you need me to recite the symptoms of cardiac failure for you? Because he sure doesn’t have them.”

Joseph flinched. His little performance cracked right there. However, Annie didn’t even notice. She thought I was just being heartless.

“You’re being so immature! What do you even have against Joseph?” she questioned emotionally.

What did I have against him?

She was always bending over backward for him and pushing me aside. Every time I tried to fight for our relationship, it somehow became me being unreasonable.

I gave a soft, bitter laugh and slowly slipped our documents back into my pocket.

“This makes ninety-nine.”

“What?”

“This is the ninety-ninth time we’ve tried to get our marriage registered.” I turned toward the subway entrance. “And the ninety-ninth time you’ve left me hanging because of him.”

I heard her heels stop on the pavement, then suddenly start running after me.

“The first time, you bailed on our trip because he was on the night shift and scared of the dark. You took a red-eye flight just to be with him.

“The second time, we were practically at the door of the courthouse. You heard he fainted from overwork and left me standing in the snow alone for an entire day.”

I looked into Annie’s eyes, pulling my hand away from hers.

“And now, today, that makes ninety-nine. Do you even remember what today is, Annie? It’s our seventh anniversary.”

A flicker of panic flashed across her face. She tried to explain, but right then, Joseph groaned again inside the car.

She turned to look, and just like that, the panic was replaced by concern for someone else.

“I get that you’re upset,” she said, “but Joseph needs me right now. I can’t delay his treatment just because we’re getting married. Take a cab, okay? I need to take him to the hospital.”

I nodded silently, and as I watched them drive off, the reality of the past seven years finally sank in like a knife to the gut.

She would always choose the one who needed her most, and that person was never going to be me.

Instead of taking a cab, I walked home. By the time I got there, the sky was already dark.

I stood quietly at the doorway, staring at the photo of us sitting on the shoe cabinet. It was taken three years ago, during our trip to Southsea.

Annie was smiling so brightly back then, like her eyes were filled with stars. Now, those stars had all fallen on someone else.

A wave of helplessness rose from deep inside my chest. As I collapsed onto the couch, a buzz from my phone broke the silence. It was a message from Annie.

“The test results are out. Joseph’s fine. He just has a little hypoglycemia.”

I stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard for what felt like forever. In the end, I replied with a word.

“Okay.”

Another message popped up right after: “Let’s have dinner tonight. Same place as always.”

I should have said no, but when my phone lit up again and I saw she reserved my favorite seat by the window, my heart gave in. Seven years of habit were hard to shake.

Part of me still wondered, what if, just this once, she realized her mistake? What if she wanted to make things right?

Clinging to that last shred of hope, I went.

The restaurant was the same Italian place where we had our very first date. She was wearing the red dress I gave her and had put on makeup.

While stirring her cream of mushroom soup, she spoke gently, like old times. “About earlier today... I acted on impulse.”

I was quietly cutting my steak and said nothing.

“You know Joseph’s still young. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand. And what if something had actually happened–”

The sound of my knife scraping against the plate cut her off.

I looked up, face blank. “Annie, can we just get through one meal without talking about him?”

She paused, surprised, then gave me a soft smile. “Okay.”

The tension eased a bit after that. We talked about the movie coming out next week, the new head of her department, and even some embarrassing memories from college. For a few fleeting moments, it felt like we were back where we started.

That was until she suddenly said, “Can you eat a little faster?”

“Why?”

She glanced down at her phone. “Joseph said he’s craving the tiramisu here. I’m going to pack one for him.”

My fork clattered onto the plate.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

She was already waving down a server. “Yeah. He’s not feeling well today, so I figured it’d cheer him up.”

“What about us?” My voice shook. “Annie, today was the day we were supposed to get married, but you blew it off again for him. Now we’re finally here, sharing a peaceful meal, and all you can think about is taking dessert back for him?”

My tone must’ve crossed a line because her smile faded, and her brows knit together.

“Why are you acting like this? He’s a patient. What’s so wrong with letting him have something sweet?”

“A patient?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t you just send me his medical report? He’s healthier than I am!”

“Finn! Must you be so petty over a piece of cake?”

She slammed her hands down and stood up, the chair screeching against the floor.

People started turning to stare, and the server stood awkwardly nearby, holding a takeaway box. However, I didn’t care. After everything, the frustration I’d bottled up over the years was about to explode.

I shot to my feet too, staring coldly at the woman in front of me.

“Petty? I remember everything from the past seven years—your likes, your allergies, when you get cramps every month, and every little thing you ever said. And you? You can’t even remember that I’m allergic to strawberries.”

Annie turned pale. “So now you’re bringing up old fights?”

“Last week, you brought him a midnight snack. Last month, you skipped work to celebrate his birthday. How many more excuses are you going to give me?”

Her eyes darted away, avoiding my gaze. Rattled by the growing attention from nearby tables, she grabbed her bag in a hurry.

“I’ve had enough of this! Are you really getting jealous over a patient? That’s not so gentlemanly of you.”

She turned to leave, but not before grabbing the boxed tiramisu on the way out.

I stood there, staring at the unfinished steak on the table. It was medium rare and sprinkled with black pepper—her favorite.

The server approached, voice timid. “Sir… would you like that to-go?”

I shook my head, pulling out my wallet. “No. I’m done.”

On the walk home, the wind stung my eyes. Under the dim glow of the streetlight, I saw a new post on Joseph’s Instagram. It was a photo of him in his hospital bed, holding the tiramisu.

The caption read: “Thanks, Annie. This is the best comfort dessert ever.”

Underneath it, Annie had left a smiley face.

I shoved my phone into my pocket, heart hollow. It had been ninety-nine times or maybe more than that. However, whatever the number was, it was time to let go.

Once the thought of leaving crossed my mind, it was only a matter of time before I acted on it.

It was early morning, and the hospital hallway was so quiet I could hear the IV drip clicking in the distance. I sat in my office, sorting through the documents I needed for my transfer, when I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and in popped Joseph’s face, wearing that fake smile.

He walked in with two cups of coffee, the collar of his white coat slightly open, revealing a deep blue dress shirt underneath. It stung my eyes the moment I saw it.

That shirt looked far too familiar. Just last month, Annie had shown me a photo and asked if I thought navy or royal blue looked better.

I thought she was buying it for me, so I casually picked royal blue. However, after glancing at the price, I told her not to bother as it was way too expensive.

That awkward smile she gave me back then felt especially cruel now.

“Dr. Hardy, about yesterday… I’m really sorry,” Joseph said, setting a cup of coffee on my desk. His voice was deliberately soft, as if trying to come off as sincere. “I came to apologize.”

I didn’t touch the coffee. Instead, my eyes were fixed on the collar of his shirt.

“Nice shirt.”

He looked down, straightened the collar with smug precision, and flashed a pleased smile.

“Oh, this is a gift from Dr. Quinn. She said royal blue suits my complexion.”

He paused before adding casually, “By the way, starting next week, I’ll officially be joining her team. She specifically requested the transfer, said she wanted me to learn more directly from her.”

Then, he leaned in, lowering his voice even further. “Dr. Hardy, I’ve been meaning to tell you… Don’t you think it's pathetic that you can’t even keep your woman?”

With a snap, the pen in my hand broke in half, ink spilling across my transfer form. I was furious, but I wasn’t about to lose control in my workplace.

Without a word, I stood up and opened the office door. “Get out.”

However, instead of leaving, Joseph suddenly looked panicked. He stumbled back, as if I’d raised a hand to him.

“Dr. Hardy, I just wanted to apologize. You didn’t have to–”

That was when I heard the sound of high heels clicking quickly down the hallway, and I instantly knew what this was all about.

A second later, Joseph suddenly flung himself backward like someone had shoved him. He crashed to the floor, coffee spilling all over his coat.

Annie appeared in the doorway right then and saw Joseph on the ground, soaked and groaning. Her face turned pale in an instant.

“Finn! What are you doing?”

I stayed rooted in place, staring at Joseph, who was curled up in pain on the floor, his white coat stained with coffee. For a moment, I was taken aback.

“I didn’t touch him. He–”

“Shut up!” Annie rushed over and pulled Joseph up, cutting me off cold. “He came here to apologize, and this is how you treat him?”

“I didn’t–”

“I saw it with my own eyes!” she snapped. “I was already worried when he said he was coming to see you. I knew you’d try to pick a fight! But I never thought you’d actually lay a hand on him. He’s just an intern, and you– How could you hit him?”

By then, a crowd of coworkers had gathered in the hallway.

I looked at her, standing there shielding Joseph like he was the victim. It was almost laughable.

“Annie, do you even know what he said to me?”

“Does it matter?” she sneered. “All I saw was you shoving him.”

Right on cue, Joseph let out a weak cough and clutched her sleeve. “I’m okay. The coffee was just a little hot…”

Annie immediately looked at his arm in panic. “It’s red! Come on, we need to get this treated.”

She helped him toward the hallway, but before leaving, she stopped at the door and threw one last comment over her shoulder.

“Finn, you’ve gone too far this time. You’ve crossed the line. If you don’t apologize to Joseph, we’re done.”

With that, the door slammed shut.

I stared down at the puddle of coffee on the floor. My reflection in it looked warped, almost unrecognizable.

The ink from the transfer form had spread across the page, soaking everything, just like my feelings that had slowly bled out over the past seven years.

What was left to hold onto? Nothing.

With a quiet sigh, I took out my phone and dialed the director’s number.

“About the transfer to Seaview… I’d like to expedite it. Yes, I’m ready to go this week. I’ll start preparing everything right away.”

After hanging up, I looked one last time at the framed photo of Annie and me on my desk before flipping it over.

I had forgiven her ninety-nine times. This time—the hundredth time—I was finally choosing to let myself go.