Zara pushed down the sadness in her eyes and spoke casually.

"As for the deadline…" she mumbled. "How about this? You help me with 99 things, no questions asked. Or once I've hurt you 99 times, we'll call the debt settled."

It seemed that she had forgotten all about it.

But it didn't matter anymore.

This was the 97th time.

Just two more, and whatever tied us together would finally be over.

I took a slow breath and walked toward the stage.

As I passed their wedding cake, I caught Charles flashing a strange smile.

I was still trying to figure out what it meant when a sudden force slammed into my back.

My body pitched forward before I could react, crashing straight into the rolling cart.

The cake collapsed under my weight. My knee smashed into the metal frame, and pain shot through my leg.

Gasps rippled across the room.

Onstage, Charles let out a dramatic sigh. Shaking his head, he said, "If you didn't want to be the best man, you could've just said so. You didn't have to fake a fall and ruin the cake I spent all day preparing."

Several guests behind me had clearly seen what really happened. Still, they joined in with mocking laughter.

Someone called out, "Mr. Houle, everyone's got their own strength, but acting clearly isn't yours. Stop embarrassing yourself."

Zara had started walking toward me, probably to check if I was hurt. But after hearing that, she stopped and looked at me with quiet disappointment.

"Your clothes are filthy," she said. "Go change into something clean."

Charles slipped his arm around hers.

"It's fine," he said easily. "I don't care about little details like that. Let's continue with the ceremony. I can't wait to marry you."

Zara looked like she wanted to say something more, but when she saw that I had already stepped onto the stage, she stayed silent.

I limped slowly toward the center.

Zara noticed, and a flicker of concern crossed her eyes. "What happened to your leg?"

Beside her, Charles shrugged.

"You really should practice more," he said lightly. "If you're going to pretend to be hurt, you should go for your championship hands. That would make Zara worry way more. Next time, pick a more valuable part of your body."

Zara's expression darkened. She clearly wanted to scold him, but with so many people watching, she lowered her voice instead.

"Enough," she said quietly. "Stop with the games. Don't embarrass yourself. Whatever you wanna say, say it later."

I let out a bitter smile.

The room was full of people who used to bow and flatter me when I was at the top of my career.

Now that Charles had Zara's favor, they were terrified of offending him. So they mocked me instead, eager to prove they were on his side.

With them backing him up, and Zara already biased toward him, anything I said would've been pointless.

Thankfully, Charles didn't cause any more trouble after that. The ceremony finished without another scene.

By the time most of the guests had left, I was ready to head out, too.

Then Charles suddenly called after me.

"Don't rush off," he said with a grin. "We'll need the best man tonight when it's time for the after-party, if you know what I mean."

My fists clenched instinctively.

I looked at Zara. She raised an eyebrow and, for once, actually scolded him.

"That's enough," she said. "Stop joking around. Go wait in the car."

After Charles left, she turned back to me.

"Don't listen to him," she said. "It's just a small get-together with some old friends tonight."

Her gaze flicked down to my injured leg.

"You're hurt," she added calmly. "I won't bring you along. Go home and get some rest. We've got plenty of time ahead of us. I'll take you next time."

Then she turned and walked away.

What she didn't know was that once I repaid the debt I owed her, I would be gone.

There wouldn't be a next time.

-

Zara specifically told the driver to take me home.

When I rolled up my pant leg, my knee was already bruised purple.

While I was applying ointment, Zara had someone deliver gifts.

One was a limited-edition watch.

The other was the key to a brand-new Porsche.

She had even left a message explaining the gifts.

The watch was her apology for taking the wedding from me. The car was her apology for forcing me to be the best man.

Without a word, I carried both items into the collection room.

Inside, rows of glass display cabinets lined the wall. I placed the watch and the car key into cabinets labeled 96 and 97.

A housemaid standing nearby held a tray and stared at them with open admiration.

"Ms. Moody's gifts get more expensive every time," she said. "She must really love you."

I just smiled and said nothing.

She didn't know that every gift here was compensation for the times Zara had hurt me.

I looked at the wall of glass cabinets.

Only two empty spaces remained.

I knew the day I would leave was coming soon.

I went back to my room and packed a few personal documents and IDs.

Everything Zara had ever given me stayed where it was. I didn't want any of it.

There was only one thing I wanted to take with me, the only thing my grandmother had left behind.

Even though I had moved into Zara's family estate, my grandmother was still worried Zara might feel slighted.

Without telling me, she melted the old gold bracelet passed down through our family and had it made into a pair of earrings and two wedding rings.

The earrings and Zara's ring had both been gifts from my grandmother.

All I wanted was the ring that belonged to me.

A few days ago, Zara suddenly asked to borrow it. She probably forgot to give it back and tossed it somewhere in her jewelry cabinet.

But after searching through the entire thing, I still couldn't find it.

The cabinet was filled with sparkling pieces of jewelry, but the small ring I was looking for was nowhere in sight.

I was about to ask one of the housemaids when the front door opened.

Zara came back with Charles.

She had even brought dinner with her. It wasn't leftovers; the food was freshly made, packed neatly into containers.

And every dish was something I liked.

She was always thoughtful in little ways like this.

Sometimes, it even made me believe she might've actually fallen in love with me.

But I didn't look at the food.

I asked directly, "Where's my ring?"

Before Zara could answer, Charles stepped forward and raised his hand, showing me the gold ring on his finger.

"You mean the wedding ring?" he said with a smile. "I noticed Zara never took hers off, so I got curious and borrowed the other one to try on. Later, I decided to melt both rings down and make this signet ring. Sorry about that. I made the decision without asking you. Just tell me how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

My chest tightened.

"Zara," I said quietly, "that was our wedding ring."

Zara paused for a moment.

Then she casually picked up a fork, grabbed a bite of the food I usually liked best, and held it out toward me.

"It was just a symbol," she said. "If you want another wedding ring, I'll buy you one."

She had forgotten that the ring was the only thing my grandmother had left me. No amount of money could replace it.

I leaned away from the food she was offering and said flatly, "No, thanks. I don't want your money."

Charles's voice immediately choked up. He slipped the ring off his finger and looked at me with watery eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I suddenly had one of my episodes and insisted on melting the rings. Please don't blame Zara. If I've caused trouble between you two… I can't live with myself. I'd rather just die!"

Zara wasn't short on money. She could've bought him a new ring.

Charles knew exactly how important that ring was to me. He did it on purpose.

And somehow, Zara still didn't notice.

She had clearly come over intending to apologize.

But the moment she saw Charles on the verge of breaking down, she dropped the fork and rushed over to comfort him.

"They were just a couple of rings," she said firmly. "If melting them to make that ring makes you happy, then that's all that matters. There's nothing for you to apologize for."

Charles glanced toward the stairs, where I had already started walking away. "What about Joseph?"

"Don't worry," Zara said. "I'll compensate him."

By then, I was already upstairs.

I closed the door behind me.

My parents had died when I was young. My grandmother had been the one who raised me.

And now, I couldn't even protect the last thing she left me.

Maybe this was her way of telling me from somewhere above that this relationship had gone on long enough.

I pulled a sheet of paper from the notebook on my desk.

It was filled with rows of numbers.

At the very bottom, I wrote another one.

Ninety-eight.

At some point, Zara had walked into the room without making a sound.

Before I could hide the paper, she reached over and pulled it out of my hand.

She stared at it, her brows knitting together. A trace of unease flickered across her face.

"What's this supposed to mean?"

I quickly grabbed the paper back.

"It's nothing," I said. "Just scribbling."

She looked a little surprised by my reaction.

Then something seemed to click in her mind.

"Oh," she said slowly. "You're still thinking about that game from last time, aren't you? The one where you tried more than 20 times and still couldn't win the stuffed toy."

She was talking about the day we were walking downtown and stopped at a small street stall.

She suddenly decided she wanted one of the plush toys, so I tried the little number puzzle game the vendor was running.

But no matter how many times I tried, I couldn't write the full sequence of 100 numbers without making a mistake.

In the end, we left empty-handed.

Seeing she had misunderstood, I didn't bother explaining.

I just nodded.

As Zara thought back on one of the rare happy memories, her usually icy expression softened with a faint smile.

"It was just a stuffed toy," she said lightly. "It's not like I can't afford one. Don't get so hung up on it. Come take a look at the gift I got you."

She snapped her fingers.

A moment later, several people walked in carrying a massive trophy made of solid gold and set it down in front of me.

"Here's to you winning the championship again next season. And about the ring… I'm sorry. Think of this trophy as my apology."

The people around us stared at it with wide, dazzled eyes.

But my reaction was flat.

"Put it in the collection room."

Zara looked surprised that I didn't seem happy.

"You stayed with me because you wanted things like this, didn't you? That trophy alone could buy a whole house. Why are you still upset?"

I looked up at her suddenly, disappointment spreading through me.

So in her eyes, the only reason I stayed with her was money. No wonder the gifts she gave me kept getting more expensive.

If she had paid even a little attention, she would've noticed something: I had never used a single thing she had given me.

Some people might like living in luxury.

But all I ever wanted was the person I loved beside me.

Zara waited for a long time, clearly expecting an answer she would like.

When none came, she stomped her foot in frustration and stormed out.

She left with Charles.

Neither of them came back that night.

That night, Charles kept sending me photos and videos. Every message was another attempt to show off, another little jab meant to provoke me.

I simply turned my phone to silent. I slept better than I had in a long time.

Early the next morning, Zara sent me an address and told me to meet her there.

She hadn't come home all night.

For once, I hadn't gone looking for her. She was probably furious.

I knew this meeting wouldn't be pleasant, but I also knew it would be the last time. After this, I would finally be free.

So I didn't waste time. I grabbed a ride and headed over.

The location she picked was remote, far from the city noise.

When I arrived, she wasn't there.

I had just taken out my phone to call her when Charles appeared with a group of men dressed in black.

"Don't bother calling," he said with a smile. "I'm the one who asked you here."

I raised an eyebrow, already sensing something was wrong. "What are you trying to do?"

Charles smiled faintly. "It's not just the starting position on the team I want. I want your position. I wanna be the captain."

"Zara will give it to you."

Zara loved Charles so much that she would probably pull the stars out of the sky if he asked. If he wanted my title, he didn't need to drop the act and threaten me like this.

I suddenly felt that this was pointless and turned to leave.

But the men in black moved quickly, blocking every way out.

Charles sighed. "But Joseph… If you don't retire, I won't feel comfortable sitting in your position even if I get it."

The men shoved me to the ground, and a wooden bat came down hard on my right hand. Pain exploded through my arm.

Gritting my teeth, I glared up at him. "Are you insane? If you ruin my hand, how are you going to explain that to Zara?"

He stepped forward and planted his foot directly on my shattered bones.

"She won't believe you. Besides, once your hand is useless, your only value disappears. What makes you think she'd still keep you around?"

He waved a hand.

"Keep going."

The men focused entirely on my hand. Blow after blow came down.

I didn't know how long it lasted. Eventually, the pain turned numb.

Only then did the men scatter and leave.

In front of me, Charles suddenly rolled across the dirt, covering himself in dust. He bit open a hidden blood capsule and spat blood all over his clothes.

Not long after he finished, the distant roar of a helicopter filled the air.

The helicopter circled once before landing nearby.

Zara jumped out and ran toward me. When she saw my right hand soaked in blood, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

"Who did this? Does it hurt? I'm taking you to the hospital right now!"

She started to help me up.

But Charles suddenly crawled to her feet, his voice weak.

"Zara… It's my fault. Those men were after me. Joseph got hurt trying to save me. You need to take him to the hospital first. Forget about my internal injuries. Even if I die here today, I have to make sure Joseph’s hand is saved. He still needs it to win championships!"