Even on my hundredth proposal, Isabelle Cole still turns me down.

We've been together for seven years. For the previous 99 proposals, she said her childhood friend isn't married yet, and she can't bring herself to break the promise they've made.

Staring at the ring in my hand, I finally can't hold it in anymore. "If Ronald never gets married, are you going to keep him company forever? What am I to you?"

Isabelle's expression turns gloomy in an instant. She snatches the ring and throws it into the river. "Ron and I made a promise when we were kids that we'd get married at the same time. How can I just abandon him?

"And besides, is that piece of paper really all that important, Lucas? We've been together for seven years. What difference would it even make?"

I stood in the middle of a sea of roses, still down on one knee. The ring I had been holding tightly had just been thrown into the river by Isabelle Cole.

At this point, I didn't look like I was proposing anymore. I looked like some guy who'd messed up and was kneeling in front of his girlfriend, begging her to forgive him.

I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Only I could turn what was supposed to be a romantic, moving proposal into such a humiliating scene.

And the worst part was that I'd already been through this 99 times. Isabelle and I had been together for seven years, from ages 23 to 30. I'd already proposed 99 times, and today was my hundredth.

On every previous proposal, she'd refused me, saying that her childhood friend, Ronald Shaw, hadn't married yet, and she couldn't break their promise.

I used to believe that even if she graded me from zero, by the hundredth time, I would've gotten a perfect score, and she'd finally agree. So, I chose to propose for the hundredth time on my 30th birthday, hoping to start a new decade and a new chapter with her.

I had assumed she would say yes without a doubt this time. But she turned me down again, just as decisively as before.

I got to my feet and faced her clearly annoyed expression. I decided to ask again, partly just to give myself a chance to finally let go.

"Isabelle, we've been together for seven years. This is my hundredth proposal. Come on, stop messing with me."

She rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide how little she cared. "So what? I've known Ron for over 20 years. Does that mean less than our seven years of relationship?

"I've said it 99 times, and this is the hundredth. Listen carefully. If Ron never gets married, neither will I. That's the promise we made when we were kids. Besides, why do we need a flimsy piece of paper to prove our relationship?"

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something to change her mind, but she had already grabbed her bag, turned on her heels, and walked off in her high heels without so much as a glance back. Just like all the previous 99 times, her decision was cold and final.

She got into the car and immediately drove off, leaving me no chance to stop her.

Our friends around us let out a collective sigh. After my fifth failed proposal, most people stopped showing up. But this time, convinced she'd finally say yes, I begged and pleaded and dragged every friend I had here to witness our happiness.

In the end, I had embarrassed myself in front of them once more.

Standing there, I actually felt a flicker of relief. At least it was just a proposal and not an actual wedding. If the bride had walked out for the hundredth time at the altar, we'd both be a joke.

I packed everything up with practiced hands, sent each friend home, and went back alone to my empty house.

When I unlocked my phone screen, the first thing I saw was Ronald's latest post.

"With you by my side, I'm never alone."

The photo showed Isabelle leaning on his shoulder, smiling softly, looking like a completely different person from the impatient woman who had just walked away from me.

I had always minded Ronald's presence.

Back when Isabelle and I first got together, I asked her straight out if she liked him, telling her I wouldn't cling to her if she did.

Every time, she would accuse me of being petty, saying I was tainting the purity of their friendship. "Can you not be so dirty-minded? There's nothing between Ron and me.

"When we were kids, his parents often left him home alone. He developed separation anxiety. If no one is by his side, he'll have episodes. I promised I'd be there for him until he got married. How could I ever abandon him?

"Can't you be a little more understanding?"

I had heard the same excuses so many times, I had lost count.

Whenever Isabelle and I were out on a date, all it took was one call from Ronald and she would drop everything to run to him, claiming he was having an "episode" and needed her there.

Did Ronald not have other friends? Did he not have a family? Was Isabelle supposed to be some kind of miracle cure whose presence magically healed him?

To me, it was obvious. He was just using it as an excuse to pull her away from me.

What was even more ridiculous was that Isabelle never thought anything was wrong. Time after time, she chose him and left me behind.

Even today, on my hundredth proposal, she walked away without hesitation.

I sat in the living room and opened every bottle of wine I had bought to celebrate our engagement. One by one, I emptied them all. Looking at the mess of empty bottles on the table, I snapped a photo and posted it.

"So it turns out… I've always been alone."

All my friends knew she had rejected me again today, and they started checking in.

"Luke, you've still got your buddies."

"There's plenty of fish in the sea."

Another notification sounded on my phone. I opened it and found that it was from Isabelle.

"Why are you being so dramatic?"

I looked at her cold, indifferent words and couldn't help but laugh bitterly at myself, then grabbed another bottle and downed it. The alcohol burned my stomach like fire, and before I knew it, a few tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.

Whenever Ronald needed her, no matter where Isabelle was or what she was doing, she would drop everything and rush to him. But with me, all I got was her calling me dramatic.

Seven years together, and I still didn't understand where I stood in her heart.

That night, for the first time ever, I didn't sit in the living room and wait for her to come home.

In the past, I used to worry that she'd be scared coming home to a dark house at night, so I'd always leave a light on and wait for her on the couch. Even if I ended up waiting until dawn, I never minded. Over time, it gave me chronic headaches.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but I slept deeply that night.

I woke up early the next morning, and as expected, Isabelle hadn't come home all night. Unlike before, I didn't call her to yell or demand answers. Instead, I made myself breakfast, ate quickly, and got ready for work.

Just as I was about to leave, Isabelle walked through the door.

She glanced at the empty dining table, surprised. "Where's my breakfast?"

She'd always had a sensitive stomach. No matter whether she had come home the night before, I'd always make sure breakfast was ready for her as I was worried that skipping it might make her sick.

But today, I just continued putting on my shoes and said casually, "I already ate. Maybe you should order delivery."

She seemed to pick up on my annoyance and gave my arm a gentle shake, her voice much softer than yesterday.

"Lucas, I know it's my fault for rejecting your proposals, but Ron doesn't have anyone else with him. I just can't relax if no one's there for him. You don't want me marrying you with that burden on my heart, right?

"Once he finds someone he can spend the rest of his life with, I won't have to worry about him having episodes alone. And then I can give myself to you completely and be yours without any hesitation. Wouldn't that be better?

"There's really nothing between Ron and me. Please don't stay mad at me, okay?"

Previously, anytime she patiently explained something, I would let it go right away. But this time, all I felt was irritation. I was tired of hearing the same excuses over and over.

"Got it. I'll be late for work. I'm heading out."

After I said that, I pulled my hand back and walked straight out the door.

The moment I got to the office, news broke that our department was sending two people to the overseas branch for further training, and everyone scrambled to sign up.

Since graduating and joining the company, I've had three opportunities to go abroad for training, and this would be the fourth. Most of my colleagues from my entry-level cohort had already gone, as a year abroad usually meant a promotion and a raise upon returning.

But I hadn't been willing to try long-distance with Isabelle, so I never signed up and let those opportunities slip by, one after another.

Looking back now, I was already 30, and my life was a complete mess.

In our relationship, I was the only one making sacrifices. I'd been with Isabelle for seven years and rejected a hundred times, and she still wouldn't even give me some vague idea of a wedding date, always insisting she'd only marry me after Ronald got married.

At work, I'd accomplished nothing. People my age had already moved into management roles, while I was still stuck at the bottom, drifting through each day.

I figured it was time to make a change.

I signed up for the training too. I'd been working under the same manager since the day I joined the company, so he was surprised to see my name on the list. "Luke, you finally came around. Have you talked it over with your girlfriend?"

I shook my head. "This is my own decision. I want to move forward in my career."

My manager patted me on the shoulder, pleased. "That's how it should be. A man needs to build his career first. I'm sure your girlfriend will understand."

I pressed my lips together and remained silent.

The whole day, I stayed focused on work. For the first time, I wasn't thinking about Isabelle, and I didn't keep checking my phone to see if she'd messaged me.

Ever since I signed up for the overseas training, all I could think about was whether I'd be selected—not about being apart from Isabelle.

It seemed the moment she rejected my proposal for the hundredth time yesterday, I finally gave up on her completely.

Unexpectedly, right before the end of the workday, a message from her popped up.

"I'll pick you up after work. Let's have dinner together. I owe you for yesterday's birthday."

I thought about it, then agreed. I figured I might as well talk to her. Whether I got selected for the training or not, it was over between us.

After work, I stepped outside and immediately saw that familiar car. I opened the back door and slid into the seat.

Isabelle frowned. "Why aren't you sitting in the front?"

I didn't answer. My eyes landed on the men's jacket in the front passenger seat. I'd seen Ronald wearing that jacket before.

Ever since Isabelle bought this car, whenever Ronald was around, the front seat would be his.

I used to make a big deal out of it, but she thought I was being unreasonable, claiming it was just a seat. She insisted that because of his separation anxiety, he felt better sitting closer to her. She even scolded me for lacking empathy.

After that, I stopped riding in her car as much. After all, there was no point setting myself up to feel unwanted.

I didn't expect that even when Ronald wasn't here, he'd still leave something behind just to make his presence known.

If this were before, I would've felt my chest tighten with frustration.

But now? I honestly didn't care anymore.