“Please. Just give me more time.”
Jonah’s knees hit the marble floor with a thud. His voice cracked, echoing in the high chamber. The servants had dragged him in by his arms, tossed him at the master’s feet like trash.
The debt wasn’t small—ten thousand denarii. It was a number so absurd it might as well have been air. Gone. Misspent. Lost. And now the master’s gaze bore down like a crushing stone.
“You owe everything,” the master said.
Jonah’s hands trembled. “My wife… my children…”
The master didn’t blink. For a breathless moment, the weight of judgment hung thick in the air.
Then came three words, quiet and impossible: “Cancel the debt.”
Jonah blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Go.”
Jonah stood slowly, legs numb, heart hammering. The guards stepped aside. And just like that—he was free.
Outside, the sun felt hotter than it had that morning. Jonah walked like he was floating. The debt was gone. He should’ve fallen to his knees in the street.
But something burned inside him. Not gratitude. Something harder. Tighter.
He turned the corner, and there he was—Micah.
Micah looked up from his basket of bread. His face went pale.
“You,” Jonah hissed.
Micah stood. “Jonah, I was going to pay—”
“You owe me a hundred denarii.”
“I know. Please, just give me one more—”
Jonah lunged, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “You think I’m a fool?”
“I’m begging you.”
“So did I.”
Jonah’s hands didn’t loosen. Not when Micah cried. Not when passersby stopped. Not even when the guards returned.
Hours later, Jonah stood before the master again.
“You wicked servant,” the master said, voice colder than before. “I forgave you everything. And you… couldn’t forgive a fraction.”
Jonah’s mouth opened. No words came.
The master turned away. “Take him.”
Jonah didn’t resist. The chains clinked around his wrists.
This time, no one said a word.
“Please. Just give me more time.”
Jonah’s knees hit the marble floor with a thud. His voice cracked, echoing in the high chamber. The servants had dragged him in by his arms, tossed him at the master’s feet like trash.
The debt wasn’t small—ten thousand denarii. It was a number so absurd it might as well have been air. Gone. Misspent. Lost. And now the master’s gaze bore down like a crushing stone.
“You owe everything,” the master said.
Jonah’s hands trembled. “My wife… my children…”
The master didn’t blink. For a breathless moment, the weight of judgment hung thick in the air.
Then came three words, quiet and impossible: “Cancel the debt.”
Jonah blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Go.”
Jonah stood slowly, legs numb, heart hammering. The guards stepped aside. And just like that—he was free.
Outside, the sun felt hotter than it had that morning. Jonah walked like he was floating. The debt was gone. He should’ve fallen to his knees in the street.
But something burned inside him. Not gratitude. Something harder. Tighter.
He turned the corner, and there he was—Micah.
Micah looked up from his basket of bread. His face went pale.
“You,” Jonah hissed.
Micah stood. “Jonah, I was going to pay—”
“You owe me a hundred denarii.”
“I know. Please, just give me one more—”
Jonah lunged, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “You think I’m a fool?”
“I’m begging you.”
“So did I.”
Jonah’s hands didn’t loosen. Not when Micah cried. Not when passersby stopped. Not even when the guards returned.
Hours later, Jonah stood before the master again.
“You wicked servant,” the master said, voice colder than before. “I forgave you everything. And you… couldn’t forgive a fraction.”
Jonah’s mouth opened. No words came.
The master turned away. “Take him.”
Jonah didn’t resist. The chains clinked around his wrists.
This time, no one said a word.
