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!"

Only then did Zara notice Charles coughing up blood.

Panic flashed across her face.

"Joseph's already won so many championships," she said hurriedly. "He's accomplished everything he could in this life. Even if his hand is ruined, it doesn't matter. Your life is what matters most."

After saying that, she looked at me apologetically.

"Charles once saved my life. I can't just leave him."

Charles's little tricks were obvious. If Zara had taken a closer look, she would've seen right through them.

But she chose to believe every lie he told.

I understood that these were just excuses for her favoritism.

So I didn't bother listening anymore.

"Zara," I said quietly, "this is the last time."

She froze when she saw the empty look in my eyes.

For a moment, a strange panic gripped her, as if she were about to lose something important.

She opened her mouth to ask something.

But suddenly, Charles coughed up another mouthful of blood and collapsed to his knees, crying out in pain.

Zara broke into a sweat. Whatever doubts she had a moment ago disappeared instantly.

"Charles is really hurt," she said anxiously. "I'll come back for you after I take him to the hospital. Wait for me."

I watched the helicopter lift off and disappear into the distance.

The place was remote.

I tried calling for a ride several times, but no drivers accepted.

I waited for a long time.

Then a message from Charles popped up on my phone.

[I can make Zara abandon you. Wanna bet?]

Almost the moment the message arrived, Zara called.

"Charles's condition is critical," she said quickly. "I can't leave right now. Just grab a ride back yourself. I'll reimburse the fare. Use the credit card however you need. I'm… I'm really sorry."

In the background, I could hear doctors shouting urgent instructions.

Then, the call ended.

She never contacted me again that day.

I knew I had to rely on myself.

I walked a long way before a passerby finally helped take me to a hospital.

But the delay had been too long.

My hand would recover…just not enough for professional competition.

On the television in the hospital room, the news was showing footage of Charles being treated. Zara had mobilized the best doctors in the entire city to treat him.

Everyone on the broadcast was praising their love story.

Meanwhile, I went to the club headquarters and submitted my resignation.

Professional players usually couldn't just quit.

But back when Zara adored me, she had made an exception. She granted me special permission to leave without paying the penalty fee.

At the time, the board of directors protested fiercely.

In the end, both sides reached a compromise.

If I ever used that clause, I would have to retire permanently.

None of us had imagined things would end like this.

The manager looked at my injured hand with regret. He personally walked me out and told me the retirement announcement would be posted soon.

He asked gently, "Have you thought about what you'll do next?"

I smiled. "I think I'll travel the world."

Anywhere was fine, as long as Zara wasn't there.

After saying goodbye to the manager, I went home.

A housemaid stood waiting with Zara's 99th gift. It was the deed to the house.

I locked it inside the final empty glass cabinet.

Then, I took out the paper again. On the list of numbers, I wrote the last one, 99.

After that, I flipped the paper over and wrote a short message for Zara.

[The debt between us is settled. We owe each other nothing now. Let's break up.]

I picked up my small bag and left the house.

After buying a plane ticket, I tossed my old phone into a trash bin and walked through the boarding gate.

Zara, let's never meet again for the rest of our lives.

-

At the moment the plane lifted off the ground, Zara rushed into the bedroom with a team of top doctors.

"Joseph, I'm back," she called out. "Let me see your hand. How bad is it?"

The room was empty.

She walked to the desk and noticed the sheet of paper filled with numbers from one to ninety-nine.

The unease in her chest grew stronger.

She picked it up, about to read it carefully.

Just then, a housemaid burst into the room in a panic.

"Ms. Moody, something's wrong! Mr. Houle released a retirement statement. He even attached a medical report about his injury."

Zara froze.

The paper slipped from her hand.

As it fell, it flipped over and revealed the lines written on the back.