It was happening all over again.

It was exactly how it went years ago. He had waited for her. A minute late turned to thirty minutes late. Then, an hour then two before the officiating priest got tired of waiting.

Charles didn't know what to feel first. Anger? Hatred? Disappointment? Sadness?

Isabella, like that day was already thirty minutes late and the judge couldn't bear to be so delayed. Charles wondered, if she had made that promise out of pity when in fact she must ...