No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

Chapter 361

Abortion? That Haley is at it again.

But, let her be. My own clothes are drenched; how am I supposed to care about shielding someone else from the rain?

"Let her!" I tersely texted Fanny.

"Wow, not playing the fairy godmother this time?" Even Fanny's ribbing me, which says a lot about how much I used to meddle.

I snorted mockingly, "The fairy godmother has gone rogue."

"Ha, I like that," Fanny laughed with pleasure.

After hanging up, I hurried off to the redevelopment office to handle some paperwork; the clerk handed me a notice, giving me three days to pack up and move out.

I had braced myself since the demolition notice first landed, even started packing, but getting the final deadline made me realize my home was really going to be torn down.

So, when I got back to the block, I found myself standing outside for the longest time, not heading upstairs. The usual bustle of neighbors was gone; they'd probably moved out already.

I was just standing there, lost in thought, not even noticing when Ernest came to stand beside me until I decided to head up.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

"Hungry?" Ernest asked, skipping the pleasantries.

I shook my head, too tired to speak.

"Exhausted?" He's observant.

I just hummed in response.

Ernest opened his mouth to say something else, but I was already climbing the stairs, and he followed, taking my bag without another word. He understood me, so we ascended in silence.

Reaching the top, I reached out for my bag, but Ernest didn't hand it over, just looked at me. He wanted me to say it.

I dropped my hand, finally speaking, "I went to cancel my parents' utilities. I'm beat. Just want some alone time tonight."

Ernest's gaze deepened, "Eat something first."

"I'm not hungry," I reached again.

After a moment's hesitation, he gave me the bag.

I turned and entered my apartment, leaning against the door. I didn't turn on the lights, just stood there, bathed in the sunset light, looking around the familiar space.

Three months ago, when I returned, it was the same scene.

Everything was as it had always been, even with Ernest moving in, nothing had changed at my request.

I could picture it perfectly: my dad

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on the sofa, calling me over to check out an article he enjoyed, saying, "Licia, come here, look at how well this is written."

My mom peeping from the kitchen, apron tied around her waist, "Licia, wash your hands and have some fruit. Dinner's soon."

Sitting on the couch next to where

my dad would be, I pulled out an old

newspaper from ten years

found the article, and read it aloud.

After finishing, I repeated what I used to say, "If this is considered good, I can definitely become a great author."

"Yes, my daughter can become a great author," I heard my dad's voice.

I froze, turning to where he used to sit. That wasn't what he had said back then. He'd tapped my head, "Be humble. That's how you improve." But I had heard him, distinctly.

I stood, looking around the empty apartment, but it was just me.

Yet, I had heard him.

"Dad, Mom," I called softly, rushing into the kitchen.

The kitchen was bare, and turning back to the living room, it was empty too.