"Why do you have that?" Estelle asked as she stepped into Rosette's room, her eyes immediately catching sight of the plaque and trophy displayed on the table.
Dranred had given Rosette his very first MVP plaque and trophy — and also his last, both signed with his name. Beside them sat the baseball he had once treasured, the same one Rosette had given him years ago.
"Dranred gave them to me," Rosette said happily, her gaze fixed on the awards. There was a light in her eyes that Estelle hadn't seen in a long time — a kind of quiet satisfaction.
"Why would he give those to you?" Estelle asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"It's a gift. He promised to give me his first autograph," Rosette replied softly, her eyes lingering on the dedication Dranred had written for her.
"He's spoiling you too much," Estelle muttered as she frowned and sat down on the bed, crossing her arms.
"Where's James?" Rosette suddenly asked, looking at her sister.
"He's resting," Estelle said, her tone dropping. "He won't be able to play basketball again."
Rosette's expression fell.
"While you're happy with what you received," Estelle continued, "James is devastated. His career ended sooner than he ever imagined."
Rosette stayed silent. She felt her heart tighten with sympathy — she was happy for Dranred's success, but also heartbroken for her brother. There was nothing she could do to ease his pain.
"It's probably better if James doesn't see those trophies," Estelle added, opening her bag. "You know how he is."
As she rummaged through her things, she noticed a small box tucked at the bottom — the one Dranred had given her earlier. With everything that had happened, she had completely forgotten about it.
She quietly took it out. Rosette's eyes followed her sister's movements, curious.
"Wow!" Rosette gasped when she saw what was inside — a pair of couple rings. "That's so sweet of Dr. Bryan!"
Estelle's expression didn't change. "He didn't give me this," she said softly, staring at the rings.
Rosette froze. "Then who—"
"Dranred," Estelle said, almost in a whisper. "He was supposed to give this to me... but things didn't go as planned."
The words hung heavily in the air. Estelle's eyes softened as memories she thought she'd buried came rushing back. Dranred had told her once — this was the very first thing he bought with the money he earned as a basketball player. She had never imagined it was a ring.
As she looked at it now, her chest tightened. It felt like the ring was testing the strength of her decision to marry Bryan.
"Does that mean... he still wants you back?" Rosette asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "What about Dr. Bryan?"
"I don't know," Estelle said, closing the box with a sigh. "Do you think we can still rebuild what we lost before?"
Rosette took a deep breath. "It depends on what you really want. But... I think Dranred still loves you. He wouldn't have given you that ring if he didn't."
Estelle looked away, lying down on the bed. "I really don't know," she murmured. "I'm sure James would be against it."
Rosette didn't answer. She knew her sister was right — James would never approve. And maybe that was what held Estelle back the most.
But deep down, Rosette also knew something she couldn't admit out loud — that even though she was happy for her sister, part of her heart ached.
Because sometimes, no matter how sincere the promise, it was never meant for her.
"Are you sure about this?" Dranred's coach asked, his voice heavy with disbelief.
Dranred had just informed the coaching staff and management of the Phoenix team that he was retiring. As expected, everyone was stunned — even Peter, his longtime manager, couldn't hide his surprise.
"Your supporters are already looking forward to the next conference," said the team owner, leaning back in his chair. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," Dranred said firmly. "I've thought about this for a long time, and my decision is final."
The owner sighed. "Your fans will be devastated when they hear about this. You've become the most-searched player since that Game 7 win."
Dranred smiled faintly. "I think my era as a basketball player has already ended."
"What do you plan to do after your retirement?" the coach asked, still trying to make sense of it.
"I'm planning to join the national baseball team," Dranred replied honestly. "I don't think it's too late for me — not yet."
The owner chuckled softly. "Well, what can I say? It seems you've already made up your mind."
Three months after Phoenix's championship, before the new basketball season began, the team formally announced the retirement of Dranred's jersey.
As expected, the news broke hearts. Thousands of fans expressed their sadness online, saying they would miss watching his breathtaking plays. For years, they had followed his journey and celebrated his victories as if they were their own. But alongside the sadness came gratitude.
Many supporters sent him messages of thanks and encouragement, saying they would continue to cheer him on — wherever his new path led.
Not everyone took the news lightly.
Drake, his long-time rival, was furious when he heard about it.
"Look at him!" Drake snapped. "He joined basketball for his own reasons, and now that I've come back to reclaim what's mine, he suddenly retires? How selfish can he get?"
James, who stood quietly nearby, said nothing. He couldn't really blame Dranred. Basketball had never been his true sport in the first place.
Maybe it's better this way, James thought. Maybe this will give me fewer reasons to resent him.
After all, one of those reasons had always been envy — that Dranred had taken the dream that once belonged to him.
But when James remembered Dranred's words during his final interview — "This win is for both of us" — something inside him softened. At first, he thought those were just polite words. But now, he realized that Dranred never said anything he didn't mean.
Before the start of the new season, James officially returned to the Falcons — not as a player, but as an assistant coach. The management's faith in him humbled him deeply. He could no longer play on the court, but in a way, he had still found a way to fulfill his dream.
Before the new basketball season began, Dranred came to see him. At first, James didn't want to meet him — the resentment from ten years ago was still there, raw and heavy. But when Dranred showed up outside his house, standing quietly by the gate, he couldn't bring himself to turn him away.
That day, James learned about Dranred's retirement plans.
"I know you still haven't forgiven me," Dranred began, his voice calm but firm. "For what happened ten years ago — and for what you think I stole from you. But I never meant to take your dream away. I honestly believed that, as your friend, I should be the one to fulfill it for both of us."
He paused, letting out a quiet breath. "I might sound like I'm just making excuses, but that's not what this is."
Dranred reached into his bag and handed James a brown envelope. "Here."
"What's this?" James asked, suspicious, taking the envelope and opening it. His eyes widened when he saw the documents inside — a property title and a bank book, both in his name.
"What is this supposed to mean?" he said, frowning. "Are you trying to pay me off?"
"I, of all people, know that dreams can't be bought," Dranred replied. "I built those things because I know that's what you would've done if you were in my place — if you were the one playing. Please, don't refuse it. It's yours. Think of it as a return on investment. You lent me your talent for ten years, and this… is what came out of it."
James clenched his jaw, his pride stung. "Are you belittling me?"
"Of course not," Dranred said softly. "Do whatever you want with those properties. I just wanted to give them to you."
He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I know it's selfish to ask this, but I hope that one day — when you're ready — you'll listen to my side of the story. I really am sorry for what happened that night."
James looked away. "Sorry won't change anything."
"I know," Dranred said quietly.
An awkward silence settled between them. Finally, James said, "If you have nothing else to say, you can leave. I'll keep these for now — until I decide what to do with them."
Dranred nodded. "That's fair." He turned and left without another word. James stood there for a while, staring at the envelope in his hands. He wasn't sure if he felt angry… or something else entirely.