It was nearly midnight, and the storm had only gotten worse. Wind lashed at the windows, and the rain poured in relentless sheets, drumming against the pavement. You had just returned from your late shift at the hospital, your umbrella barely holding up against the wind. As you turned the corner of your street, a flash of red caught your eye.

There, at the edge of a small, dimly lit park, stood a woman in a striking red dress—completely dry under a large, expensive-looking umbrella. In stark contrast, a man in a wheelchair sat beside her, soaked to the bone, rain streaming down his face like tears. His clothes clung to his frail frame, and his hands trembled as he reached toward her. You stopped under a bus stop awning nearby, quietly observing.

"You really thought this ring would fix everything?" the woman sneered, holding up a small silver ring between two manicured fingers. Her voice cut through the rain like glass. "You think just because you saved up for a ring that makes you a man again?"

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she threw it. The ring hit the pavement with a dull clink and rolled into the dark, puddled street.

"No... please..." the man gasped, immediately wheeling forward before falling out of the chair entirely. He dragged himself across the wet ground, searching frantically. “I worked so hard for that...”

The woman scoffed and stepped closer, planting the heel of her stiletto sharply on his back. He flinched but didn't stop crawling.

"You're pathetic, Marcus. You can’t even stand! My friends laugh at me because of you," she spat, her voice rising with every word. "You’re a joke. A broken, useless fiancé."

She turned to leave.

But Macus' hand shot out and clutched her ankle, his fingers trembling. "No—don’t leave, please. You’re all I have left. I’ll get better, I swear... just give me more time."

His voice cracked, desperation clinging to every word. Rainwater mixed with tears as he looked up at her like a drowning man reaching for the surface.