I once made a promise to the top actress in the industry.

If I publicly proposed to her 99 times on livestreams, she would, on the hundredth, officially launch our relationship.

But when the hundredth proposal came, she was on a private yacht kissing a new rising actor. Her smile had been so sweet and carefree.

I became a complete joke.

Feeling guilty, she texted me: [I will say yes on your 101st proposal.]

She entered my livestream, looking like a goddess had descended to earth.

As she looked on, I lit all one hundred love letters I had ever written for her, as well as the stomach cancer diagnosis I had hidden inside.

“There will be no 101st time, Miss Ford.”

Debbie Ford watched the letter slowly burn down to embers.

Ignoring the danger, she grabbed a coat to beat at the flames until they died.

In front of thousands of livestream viewers, she teared up and shoved me onto the white rose petals-covered sofa.

“Charles, what on earth are you doing? Are you toying with me?”

Her manager, Ken Zimmerman, shut the livestream off in a panic.

I said nothing.

She stood so close that I could smell the lingering cologne on her clothes. It was the same one George Brookes always wore.

I suddenly remembered the time when she was still working as an extra on movie sets after we finished college. She had held my hand and told me very seriously, “Charles, when I win the Best Actress award, I’ll marry you, and we’ll have the grandest wedding ever.”

When she actually did win the Best Actress award, she changed the deal.

She told me to propose to her publicly during livestreams, and only after I had proposed to her a hundred times would she give up her glamorous image and announce our relationship.

Every time I acted like a fool online for her sake, she was always somewhere else.

She would appear at luxury hotels around the world with all sorts of pretty boys or spend nights on yachts.

She even ran off to get married and then divorced immediately in Ghono, just to “experience the local marriage culture.”

Something I longed for seemed to be so easily attainable by others.

The thought pulled a bitter smile across my face.

“Debbie, there will not be a 101st proposal. I’m tired. We’re done.”

She stared at me for two seconds in stunned silence.

Then, she laughed in apparent realization.

“So, because I didn’t show up for your hundredth proposal, you just burned all the love letters in spite?

“You embarrassed me in front of so many people. As my fiance, did you ever think about how I would feel?”

I could not understand. Was that not the freedom she had always wanted?

Why did she not seem the slightest bit relieved?

If she had spoken to me like that in the past, I would have humbled myself and begged her for forgiveness.

But my heart had long shattered beyond repair. All I felt was numbness, and I said nothing.

More importantly, I did not want to waste whatever time I had left on her.

“The hundredth proposal has ended. So have we.”

Debbie’s expression seemed to relax when she heard me say those words. She seemed to believe I couldn’t bear to leave her.

“Don’t be dramatic, Charles. We’ve been together for seven years, and you think you can just walk away like that? Don’t worry. When you propose for the one-hundred-and-first time, I’ll say yes. You’ll get to salvage your dignity.”

I remained silent. I slipped off the ring she had handmade for me and tossed it into the trash, right in front of her.

Then, I turned and left.

Ken hesitated. “Debbie, he’s not serious, right?”

She glanced at my back and spoke with certainty.

“In three days, he’ll come back crying and begging me to marry him.”

“It has always been this way. He can’t live without me.”

Ken nodded. “True. Charles would never leave you. Everyone knows he’s madly in love with you. He’s put himself through countless stupid things for you.”

They were right.

I had loved her at the cost of my dignity. I had loved her into my emotional collapse. That was how I ended up with cancer.

There was a saying: the less committed person in a relationship always had the upper hand.

But I was no longer committed to the relationship. It was over.

I smiled bitterly and walked faster.

The next day, Debbie showed up at the company with her rumored new boyfriend.

My colleagues looked at me with concern.

I acted as if nothing had happened and submitted my resignation.

The HR manager was shocked.

“Charles, you’re a talented agent. Why quit now? Is it because Debbie found someone new?”

I pressed my lips together. I was tired of explaining myself.

People always believed that my existence revolved around Debbie, never around myself.

“Take it however you want.”

“But if you resign, Debbie will throw a fit,” the HR manager muttered, but he signed the papers anyway.

I was finally free.

I returned to the office. Debbie came over, arm in arm with George.

“Charles, what do you think of my new boyfriend?”

I glanced at him. “He’s pretty.”

She was startled. “Charles, you’ve changed.”

I had indeed changed.

The old me had been possessive. I always questioned her whenever she had rumored relationships with male celebrities.

I was jealous and constantly anxious like a madman.

She sent George away and studied me carefully.

“Charles, it has been two days. Are you done making a scene? I only missed one proposal. Do you really need to be this angry? Are you not even coming home now? I told you, after all these years, I’ll give you the answer you want. Why can’t you just trust me?”

My body was failing, and I had lived on liquid food for days.

Anything I ate came straight back up.

Maybe it was what she said, or maybe it was my stomach. A wave of nausea surged up, and I vomited in front of her.

Her expression darkened. “Charles, what’s that supposed to mean? Do you still want me to marry you or not?”

I wiped my mouth with a tissue.

“I just felt sick.”

She froze, then stormed off.

“You’re impossible!”

For the first time, I did not feel pain.

I continued the handover of my work until evening.

Ken came by and handed me a ticket for the re-release of “Dreamland.”

“You know Debbie. She can be careless sometimes, but you matter a lot to her. You mentioned you wanted to watch this movie, and she bought the ticket immediately. See you at the cinema entrance at 9 p.m. tonight.”

I stared at the ticket, and I understood.

That was her way of making up. It was her way of asking for peace.

After thinking about it, I took the ticket. She owed me at least that much.

It was 9 pm.. I arrived at the cinema right on time.

Debbie appeared beside me in a hat and mask, completely disguised.

Behind her stood a man wearing the same getup. It was George.

I looked toward him, and Debbie explained to me in a soft voice, “Our new series is about to air. You know how it is. We need publicity.”

I did not mind it at all. I walked into the theater and took my seat.

We had been together for many years. Every time I suggested going to the movies like any normal couple, she would loop her arm through mine and coax me softly.

“Come on, I’m an actress now. If someone takes photos, my career will be in trouble. People might even dig into your private life. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

But after she became an actress, she was always “paired” with one male actor, or photographed vacationing with another male singer.

All those sweet words she used on me in the past echoed in my ears. With how deeply I used to love her, the mockery only stung deeper.

Halfway through the movie, George leaned close to her ear.

“Debbie, reporters are everywhere outside the cinema. Should we leave early?”

“We’ll go first. You leave later.” She did not ask for my opinion. She took George and left ahead of me.

I stayed in my seat and quietly finished the movie.

I would not suffer any longer for a woman who did not love me, and I would not live in fear because of her.

I would give the time and love I had left to myself.

I went to the hospital after finishing the movie in a good mood.

The pain from stomach cancer kept me from sleeping, and I needed intravenously administered pain medication to calm it.

The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the air.

On the TV, the paparazzi was reporting that the Best Actress had gone on a movie date with a rising young star, and the two of them had kissed sweetly on the street…

I fell asleep before the news ended. I vaguely felt my phone buzzing over and over in my arms.

I did not go home until midnight.

From afar, a small figure stood at my door.

It was Debbie.

All those years together, she was always the one getting drunk outside, or filming late into the night, and I would stand at the bar entrance or at the set just like she was doing. I would wait for her until the middle of the night.

I always brought tea to sober her up, or food to help her body recover.

But she never appreciated those acts.

She said that I was using it as an excuse to stalk her and interfere in her life.

I never thought the day would come when she would be the one waiting for me.

She ran over and hugged me tightly the moment she saw me.

“The movie ended ages ago. Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back? Don’t you know I would be worried? Don’t read the news today. They twisted the story on purpose. It’s fake.”

It took me a moment to remember what news she was referring to.

“It’s fine. I’m used to news like this.”

Hearing the indifference in my voice, she seemed to think back on everything she had done to me. Guilt flickered across her face for the first time.

Then, she took out a small box.

Inside lay a large diamond ring.

I froze.

I had dreamed about that moment countless times.

I had imagined her putting on the ring I had long prepared while taking a sincere vow for our years together.

But I felt nothing when I stared at this ring.

I set it casually on the table.

Her expression darkened. She frowned as she followed me into the apartment.

“Charles, you’ve really changed. How could you…”

I already knew the ending of that sentence.

She had expected me to glow with happiness, hug her in excitement, and instantly erase every grievance.

I forced a faint smile. “It’s a beautiful ring.”

“Do you like it?” she asked with a hopeful look.

I did not drop the smile. “I think so.”

Once upon a time, even the cheap matching rings she bought on a whim had felt like treasure to me, and I wore them every day.

How could I possibly dislike a ring with a massive diamond?

She finally breathed in relief and smiled.