No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

The night breeze was gentle and cool.

Ernest's silhouette stretched long under the streetlight, so long it seemed he had grown taller since the last time we were together.

I stepped beside him, my shadow merging with his as if we were one.

This moment made my heart swell with a bittersweet ache.

It hurt so much I could barely breathe...

The pain made me think of his aloofness, and his impending marriage to the Clark family, which stung so badly I found myself defiantly asking, "What did you want to talk about, Ernest?"

Ernest didn't look at me, just stared into the night, "Didn't you want to see Jefferson's game? It's next week. You could go; I'll buy you a plane ticket."

My heart clenched. What was this about seeing a game? It felt like he was just trying to get rid of me.

Now that he was getting married, was he afraid I'd ruin his prospects?NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

Ever since we parted ways, it felt like each time he hurt me, the wound was deeper than before.

I bit my lip. "Who said I wanted to go?"

I should have shouted that, but I just couldn't. My voice was weak, as if I had no strength at all.

It wasn't that I lacked courage; I was just too heartbroken, so much that if I said another word, I would burst into tears.

And I didn't want to cry in front of him. That was my last shred of dignity.

Before, I cried and begged him to stay because I thought I was at fault and he had misunderstood me.

But now, things were different. He wanted me gone, making room for another woman, afraid I'd mess things up.

It meant he had no affection left for me. If I cried now, it would only diminish me further.

"He'll be happy to see you there," Ernest said, his tone slightly bitter.

If this were the past, I might have thought he was jealous.

But now, his words felt more like a mockery.

It felt like my throat was about to explode. I dug my nails into my palm desperately, unable to say a word.

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After saying that, he finally looked at me. "You missed his last award; don't miss this one. And..."

Ernest paused for a moment, "After

this competition, he's platet

won't participate in any

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more games."

So, he was telling me that if I missed this chance, I'd never see Jefferson compete again.

But he didn't understand, Jefferson's games weren't my priority.

"Ernest, all this talk, is it just your way of telling me to leave?" I finally found my voice.

He was silent again, an answer in itself. Though silent, it hurt more than any words could.

"Why?" I asked, trembling, "Is it really just because you don't want me to miss Jefferson's game?" He still didn't answer, which clearly meant it wasn't the reason.

But since he wasn't saying it, I did, "Ernest, I know why. It's because you don't want me to mess up your wedding, right? You're afraid your fiancée will find out about me and get jealous, aren't you?"

As I spoke, I felt a familiar sting in my nose, a sign of my dwindling self-respect.

Despite the bitterness, I forced myself to stay strong, determined not to come across as pitiful or pathetic.