Her Last Waiting at City Hall

After Vincent Moretti stood me up at City Hall for the seventh time, I cut off all contact with him.

Phone calls? Blocked. Social media? Deleted.

Family gatherings he attended, I refused to go.

My company decided to partner with his casino, I resigned on the spot.

My strategy was simple: a clean break.

For thirty years, I gave him everything.

I refused to live like that anymore.

Better to be alone for the rest of my life than to wait one more night in an empty house that never felt like home.

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1

I waited for Vincent Moretti at City Hall for hours, right up until the staff started closing up for the day.

I called him at first. He said there was an emergency meeting—urgent Family business—and told me to wait.

I waited another two hours. I tried calling again, but the line was always busy.

I clutched the marriage application so tightly my knuckles went white, the paper creasing in my fist.

“Ma’am, we’re about to close. Are you still planning to file today?” a clerk finally asked, her voice full of pity.

She had seen me waiting there all day.

I snapped back to reality and shook my head slightly. “Thank you. Not today.”

As I walked out of City Hall, a few employees heading home were whispering as they passed. “I swear I’ve seen her before. Always by herself.”

“Now that you mention it… yeah. Waiting for that guy who’s always a no-show.”

My face remained a mask of indifference, but shame burned in my gut. I quickened my pace instinctively.

This was the seventh time I had come to City Hall to wait for Vincent.

Just as I stepped outside to hail a cab, he appeared.

He ran up, panting, an apologetic look plastered on his face.

“Sorry, Isabella. There was some urgent business with the Family. I hope I’m not too late.”

I scoffed. Urgent Family business. That was his excuse last time, too. And the time before that.

And now he was using it again.

I couldn't even be bothered to call him out. I shook my head and replied, “You’re too late. They just left.”

Vincent looked at his watch, his face a mask of indignation. “Damn it, do these people punch out the second their shift ends? They couldn’t wait five more minutes?”

He strode forward, his warm hand closing around my wrist, and pressed my palm against his hard, heaving chest. “The traffic was awful. Feel this—I ran all the way here. I’m exhausted.”

I stared at him blankly, fighting back the sting of tears.

Who does he think he’s kidding?

I could tell he hadn’t run a single block.

I bit my lip and, for the first time, confronted him. “If you really ran all the way, why aren’t you sweating?”

His forehead was as dry as if he had just stepped out of an air-conditioned room.

Vincent’s expression shifted in an instant. He frowned, his eyes flashing with fury as he retorted, “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a liar? Accusing me of not wanting to marry you?”

“I ran my ass off to get here, and this is the thanks I get? I can’t believe how heartless you are, Isabella!”