No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 381

Ernest didn't ask anything; he just stopped in his tracks.

But I quickly added, "It's nothing, let's head upstairs."

In the darkness, I looked down, haunted by the image of the figure we had seen by the car.

I thought he wouldn't know I lived here, especially since the building was set for demolition. Yet, he knew, and he came anyway.

But what was the point of coming now?

Ernest took the stairs two at a time, his steps large and determined.

"Open the door," Ernest said, slightly out of breath.

I fumbled for my keys and unlocked the door. As we entered, he lifted me onto the shoe cabinet and looked at me.

In the dark, his eyes were like the deep sea at night, mysterious and fathomless, as though they could engulf me at any moment.

I swallowed hard, about to speak, but he kissed me before I could utter a word.

"Licia, I'm here for you, however you want," Ernest said as he started to remove his jacket, pulling at his collar.

Earlier, by the car, it was me who was wild and insistent. Now, the roles were reversed.

But the moment for me had passed; that feeling was gone and couldn't be recaptured.

However, Ernest was clearly stirred, desiring, just as I had been before.

Perhaps my lack of response made him realize, for he didn't continue, instead pressing his forehead against my neck, breathing heavily.

We both stayed silent, just remaining that position. After a while, his breathing slowed, and he moved away from my neck.

I caught him, "Ernest."

He looked at me, his gaze making my heart skip a beat.

Had he also seen what I saw downstairs?

If so, he might think my hesitation was because of the person we encountered.

"I'm... I'm still on my period," I whispered.

"Okay," was all he said.

Despite hearing it often, in that moment, the word seemed laced with disappointment, detachment.

"Ernest, don't get the wrong idea," I tried to clarify.

"It's not you who should worry," he lifted my hand, holding it gently, "It's me."

"Let's take a shower and then go to bed," Ernest suggested, lifting me toward the bathroom.

He was always like this, never angry or upset, no matter what I did or said.

This only made me feel more guilty. I stopped him as he was about to leave the bathroom, tiptoeing to kiss him again. Ernest held my waist, setting my feet back on the ground, "Licia, do you think I'm easy to push around?"

I froze, not expecting such words from him.

Looking at me, Ernest said, "You take advantage of the fact that I can't bear to be harsh with you, to push me around." His tall frame, saying these words, sounded so pitiful, like a child finally voicing long-held grievances.

I was at a loss for words, my mouth opening and closing without making a sound.

He slowly let go of my hand and walked out of the bathroom.

Standing there, I felt like the one at fault, unsure how to make amends.

I didn't shower; instead, I just stood there until I burst out of the bathroom, "Ernest..."

He was at the door, turning to look at me.

I struggled to speak, "I'm sorry..."

But he cut me off before I could finish, "I'm not leaving, just going to grab something from the room. I'll be right back." Hearing that, tears streamed down my face.

One by one they fell, then all at once.

I didn't even know why I was crying. After all, it was me who had ignited his passion, and then left it unquenched.