Enough of Being Stood Up

After Nathan Seville stands me up for the seventh time we're supposed to register our marriage, I finally cut all ties with him—completely and on my own terms.

If he shows up at a gathering, I don't go.

If he's invited to perform at the college anniversary, I leave early.

The moment my company decides to work with him, I resign on the spot.

Even on Christmas Eve, when he shows up at my house with gifts, I make up an excuse about needing to visit someone.

Calls? Blocked. Socials? Deleted. My strategy is simple—cut it all off.

I don't reach out, and he has no way of finding me.

For the first 30 years of my life, I spent most of it loving him with everything I had.

I cared for him, supported him, and waited for him.

But after being left hanging for the seventh time at the City Hall, I finally wake up. I don't want to live like this anymore.

Even if I end up alone, it's still better than spending night after night waiting in an empty house that never feels like home!

I waited for Nathan Seville at the City Hall for hours until it was time for even the staff to get off work.

At first, when I called him, he said that he was busy and told me to wait.

I waited for another two hours. When I called him again, the call wouldn't go through.

His line was constantly busy.

I gripped the marriage registration form in my hand so tightly that it had crumpled into a ball.

"Miss, we're about to close for the day. Are you still planning to file your marriage registration?" One of the staff members couldn't help but ask. She had seen me waiting there all day.

Snapping back to my senses, I shook my head lightly. "Thank you. I'm not doing it today."

…

As I walked out of the City Hall, a few staff members passing by after getting off work whispered to each other, "I think I've seen her a few times. She always comes here alone, trying to get married."

"Now that you mention it, I remember her, too. She's always waiting for someone who never shows up."

I kept my expression blank, but on the inside, I was dreadfully embarrassed. Shame overwhelmed me to the point where I couldn’t lift my head. Instinctively, I picked up my pace.

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

Just as I walked out and was about to hail a cab home, he appeared.

He jogged toward me, panting slightly, with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Yvonne. Something urgent came up at work today. I hope I'm not too late."

I scoffed silently.

The last time we were supposed to register our marriage, he told me that something had come up at work, so he didn't turn up.

The time before that? He was also