My Last Wait at City Hall

I read the post three times. You didn't have to be a genius to know it was aimed at me.

Even though I’d already guessed the real reason for Sterling's absence, Blair Vance's post still landed like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs.

Sterling and I had grown up together, inseparable as children.

When I was just a little girl, I vowed I would marry him when I grew up.

That declaration had delighted both our parents.

And Sterling had always been good to me.

Until we were adults.

Then he brought another woman home—Blair Vance. Watching them, so intimate and lost in their own world, I finally understood that whatever Sterling felt for me, it wasn't love.

The realization was terrifying.

A few years ago, I'd jokingly suggested we get married.

Our parents were ecstatic, but Sterling—he flatly refused.

Over the next few years, I must have proposed a dozen times.

He only agreed seven times—and stood me up all seven. And each time, like clockwork, Blair would post something cryptic on social media.

Just then, my phone vibrated again.

I thought it might be Blair and my thumb instinctively moved to decline, but I saw the caller was my friend, Chloe Jenkins.

She was inviting me to an exclusive party that night.

Without thinking, I asked, "Is Sterling going to be there?"

"Don't worry, Scarlett. I know what's going on with you two, so I already gave him a heads-up. He'll be there!" she said cheerfully.

"Then I'm out," I said flatly. "If he's going, I won't be. Maybe some other time."

Dead silence crackled on the other end of the line. Chloe was stunned.

Everyone in our circle knew I'd been chasing Sterling for years.

I shamelessly sent him gifts, managed his social calendar, and spent my days tidying his penthouse and preparing his meals.

Once, at a friend's birthday party, someone remarked how lucky he was to have me.

Sterling had just scoffed. "She's suffocating. Who cares what she does?"

Back then, it hadn't bothered me. I thought one day, he would see my worth.

Now, it did.

After hanging up, I sent a group text to our mutual friends. "From now on, if Sterling is going to be there, please don't invite me."

Then, I hailed a cab and went back to my own apartment.

After a shower, I began gathering Sterling's things. I methodically packed his Armani suits, his collection of Patek Philippe watches, his car keys—everything—into a large suitcase and called a courier to have it sent to his penthouse.

My best friend, Chloe Jenkins, showed up around the same time as the courier, having clearly heard the news.

When she saw the packed suitcase, she blurted out, "Scarlett, are you leaving?"

I smiled and opened the suitcase for her to see. "What are you talking about? This is all Sterling's stuff. I'm sending it back."

Chloe froze. After the courier left with the suitcase, she stared at me in disbelief. "Weren't you and Sterling supposed to get married today? What happened? I thought you two were…" She trailed off as the realization dawned.

She knew about all the other times. She was shaking with anger. "He stood you up again? That bastard. No wonder you sent that group text. I bet that bitch Blair is behind this. Come on. We're going to find her and give her a piece of our minds."