Chapter 1The 99th time we went to get our marriage license, Alistair was late AGAIN.
"Shit, babe—work thing. Lost track of time."
His secretary Chloe cut in, fake-sweet. "Alistair and I were balls-deep in his office all night."
"Poor guy's dead on his feet. Don't be mad, sis~"
Alistair pulled me toward the entrance, but Chloe blocked him.
"We still have fifteen minutes before they close!”
"Please? Just look at my proposal real quick~"
Alistair smiled at her.
Then turned to me, impatient.
"Isla, you've waited 99 times. What's ten more minutes?"
I smiled. Said nothing.
By the time their "quick chat" ended, the courthouse doors were already LOCKED.
"Let's just reschedule. Next time I won't be late, promise."
SAME BULLSHIT. AGAIN.
I nodded and walked away.
Because I'd already booked appointment number 100.
Only this time? I picked a man who'd never make me wait.
...
Alistair caught up and yanked me into his arms.
"Come on, don't be mad."
"I screwed up today, wasn't on purpose."
"Blame Chloe—she had to finish that pitch deck by tonight."
Chloe stood two steps away, sticking her tongue out.
"Your fault, actually!"
"I should've just hired someone else to help. Wasted my time."
She gave Alistair a playful shove.
Lost her balance. Stumbled right into his chest.
Alistair had one arm around me, the other catching her.
Smooth.
Chloe steadied herself, turned, saw me—and her eyes went red.
"Isla, I'm so sorry."
"I made Alistair help me with work and ruined your appointment."
"We didn't even finish the deck. Should've just let you two go."
Alistair rubbed my shoulder, casual.
"It's fine. Isla's not gonna hold a grudge."
"We've missed this thing how many times now?"
"She's used to it. She doesn't care."
Chloe shook her head, eyes still glistening.
"But I feel terrible. Let me take you to dinner to make up for it?"
I glanced at my watch.
"No need. You two go."
Today had already taken too much of my time.
I turned and walked into the crowd.
Behind me, Alistair comforted Chloe.
"She's not mad. Just has resting bitch face. I'll sweet-talk her later."
He still didn't get it.
I wasn't over being angry.
I was over HIM.
I went straight to Alistair's apartment.
Pushed open the door. The motion-sensor lights in the glass display case flickered on.
Ninety-eight shelves. Ninety-eight designer bags.
Each one a broken promise.
The first time he was late, he got me a Michael Kors.
Back then he'd just started his company. Money was tight.
But he insisted on buying it. "girls shouldn't have to settle."
The fifth time, it was Coach.
Tenth time, MCM.
By the twentieth, it was Chanel. Louis Vuitton.
The bags got bigger. The brands got louder.
And he showed up later and later.
My phone suddenly buzzed.
It was a bank notification. The exact price of the new Chanel bag.
Then a text from Alistair:
"Get yourself that new Chanel. It'd look perfect on you."
I stared at it for a few seconds, accepted the transfer, but didn't reply.
I'd already sold all ninety-eight bags on resale sites.
Add today's money, and I had enough for a down payment on a place.
Seven years of my life. This was fair compensation.
That night, Alistair came home reeking of whiskey.
"You really mad?"
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, chin resting on my shoulder, voice muffled.
"My Isla wouldn't actually be mad at some airhead secretary, right?"
I gently pushed his hands away.
"I'm not mad. I'm just tired, Alistair."
He rubbed his temples, brows furrowed.
"Why sit on that hard bench at the courthouse?"
"Next time wait in that Maybach I bought you."
"It’s not my body that’s tired." I kept my eyes down.
“It’s my heart.”
He froze.
"Alistair. Seven years. You've been late 99 times."
"There’s an old saying—if you can’t get married after 99 attempts, your love is cursed."
"The couple will NEVER be happy. Unless they change partners."
He stared at me for a second.
Then laughed.
"You actually believe that fated bullshit?"
I looked up at him.
"I do."
Chapter 2
Dim light. I couldn't see his expression clearly.
But I could feel his gaze pinned on my face—shifting from casual to scrutinizing to annoyed.
"You're seriously gonna pick a fight over some superstition?"
"Today was an accident. I didn't mean to be late."
"Next time, I'll get there before you—"
I grabbed his phone. Opened the alarm app.
Twenty alarms.
Starting at 9:30 a.m. One every five minutes.
Label: "Marriage license with Isla. DON'T BE LATE."
Every single one. Turned off.
I'd set them myself last night before leaving.
He'd been sprawled on the couch, yawning, barely looking at me.
"Yeah, got it."
I scrolled down.
Call log.
9:12 a.m. Chloe. 47 minutes.
10:00 a.m. Chloe. Over an hour.
11 a.m. Noon. 2 p.m.
All day. HER name. Over and over.
My name was at the very bottom from last night.
He'd picked up, hung up in under ten seconds.
Said he was "busy."
Alistair watched me scroll and rubbed his nose.
Finally, a flicker of guilt.
"The alarms mess up my focus when I'm working."
"Chloe thought they were annoying, so she turned them off."
"Just reschedule. Next time I'll be there on time, I swear—"
He didn't finish.
His face went pale. Hand over his mouth. He bolted to the bathroom and started puking.
I sighed. Waited till he was done.
Wiped his face clean. Got him into bed.
I was about to leave when he grabbed my hand, eyes still closed, mumbling.
"Chloe, don't go... I'll help you with work tomorrow, okay..."
I stood there and looked down at him for a few seconds.
Then pulled my hand free and shut the door.
By the time I got to my new place, it was almost 1 a.m.
I'd put the down payment on this apartment myself.
Oversaw the whole design.
The room at the back—I'd turned it into a gaming room.
Two seats. Two top-spec PCs. A whole wall of collectible figures.
I'd planned it as our future home. A surprise for Alistair.
Not anymore.
I finished unpacking, collapsed onto the bed, and passed out.
The next morning, my phone woke me up.
Screen full of missed calls. All from Alistair.
I was about to head to the bathroom when he called again.
The second I picked up, his voice came through—barely holding anger.
"Where are you?"
"My new place."
Silence on the other end.
Then a scoff.
"Which hotel? Send me the address. I'll pick you up after work."
"I got wasted last night. Don't remember a thing. Why'd you leave?"
I took a deep breath.
"I'm not coming back to your place anymore."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Alistair. We're done."
Chapter 3
Alistair went quiet for a long time, then let out this soft laugh.
"Seriously? Because I was late again?"
"That's not a good enough reason?"
"Of course not." Alistair sighed. "Isla, what are you, five?"
"Stop being dramatic. I've got site visits Tuesday through Thursday."
"Book us for Friday morning."
I let out a quiet breath.
"Alistair, you don't get it. I'm getting the license with someone el—"
Didn't finish.
Chloe's giggle came through the line.
Alistair muttered "hold on" and hung up.
I stared at the ended call screen for a few seconds.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Another transfer. Bigger than last night's.
Followed by a text: "Buy two. One to wear, one to display. Be good."
I locked the screen and tossed the phone onto my pillow.
Walked into the bathroom. Stood in front of the mirror.
Pale face staring back. Lips drained of color.
Exhaustion I couldn't shake.
Three years ago, I didn't look like this.
The first time we tried to get our license, I showed up two hours early.
Wore a new dress. Spent forever on my makeup.
He was forty minutes late.
But that time, his excuse was he'd stopped to save an injured stray dog.
He held up his phone, showing me this scruffy little thing, looking so guilty.
"Isla, I'm sorry."
"It looked just like the one you had as a kid. I couldn't just leave it..."
His eyes were bright. Like shattered stars.
I said it was fine. We'd go next time.
The second time, he got a flat tire on the highway.
Third time, his flight was delayed.
Fourth, fifth, sixth...
Every time, there was a reason.
Every time, he felt bad.
Every time, I said it was okay.
At some point, the reasons became Chloe.
Chloe's pipes burst.
Chloe got pricked by a cactus.
Chloe locked herself in the break room.
Chloe's cat ran away.
Chloe got dumped.
Each excuse smaller than the last. More ridiculous.
But he'd drop everything and run to her. Never made her wait.
I complained once.
He said, "She's my secretary. Dumb as a rock."
"If I don't help and something happens, she'll blame me."
Like it was the most logical thing in the world.
I never brought it up again.
I opened my phone and rescheduled for next Friday.
Screenshot saved once it was confirmed.
Then I contacted a realtor and listed my new apartment.
The agent who came by was young.
She walked through the place, stopped at the gaming room, wouldn't move.
"You just finished this place and you're selling it? At a discount?"
"That's insane!"
I stood on the balcony, watching the street below.
"Not insane. I'm leaving Manhattan."
After she left, I went to my office.
My resignation letter had been ready for weeks. Just needed a signature.
The HR manager glanced at me, looked like she wanted to say something, then stamped it anyway.
On my way out, I posted the screenshot to Instagram.
No caption. Just the image.
Two minutes later, Alistair called.
"Isla. Cancel that appointment!"
His voice was urgent.
"Chloe got tickets to BTS’s concert Friday. It's a couples-only raffle entry."
"Let's change the day. Be good—we'll go Monday instead."
I leaned against a pillar outside my building, staring at the clouds.
"You hear me?"
"Yeah."
His tone sharpened.
"Then listen. We're rescheduling."
"Chloe can't cancel Friday's concert."
"Her best friend died—this was her last wish. I have to go with her."
I gripped my phone tighter. Still said nothing.
"Go ahead. Be with Chloe."
"The license appointment has nothing to do with you anymore."
"So don't bother showing up."
The line went dead silent.
Then came the sound of a lighter. Click. Click.
"If I don't go, who are you getting that license with? Yourself?"
"You forget those 99 times? This Friday I'M going to that concert with Chloe."
"Either change the date or go by yourself."
Each word cutting deeper.
When I finally spoke, my voice came out raw.
"So you did know those 99 times were just me. Alone."
He hung up.
A few seconds later, messages started coming in.
I deleted them without reading.
