No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 678

It was Ernest's silhouette!

Just like the one I saw that night at the alleyway.

Last time, I took a tumble before I could get a good look, but this time, I was determined to see clearly. I tried to step forward, forgetting about my injury, and ended up falling flat on my face.

"Whoa, lady, are you doing this on purpose? Just say you want me to sweep you off your feet," Allen teased as he helped me up.

I glared at him, then shouted, "Turn on the lights!"

My shout made everyone on stage halt, but the backstage area remained shrouded in darkness.

"Turn on the lights!" I yelled again.

Grant, who had just walked in, heard me. "What's going on here? Turn on the lights, now!"

His command worked wonders. The hall lights flickered on, and everyone squinted against the sudden brightness.

My gaze darted across the faces on stage, finally resting on the one in the center.

The face I'd been dreaming of!

Ernest's face!

There he was, as if resurrected, standing before me. Yet, his eyes bore a look of unfamiliarity, even a hint of confusion and unease.

At that moment, I couldn't care less about the pain in my leg. I made my way towards the stage.

"What are you doing?" Allen inquired.

Grant pointed at the man on stage, stammering, "Ernest, you... how... aren't you...?"

He was too shocked for words. By then, I had staggered to the front of the stage, getting a clearer view of the face above.

I was certain it was Ernest's.

"Ernest," I called out softly, a name I had uttered countless times before.

But the man on stage didn't move. Allen chuckled, "Darling, he's not Ernest. His name's Phipps. He's the top model here." Allen gestured towards the man, who obediently approached, "Mr. Clark."

"Call her Ms. Hudson," Allen instructed.

The man complied, "Hello, Ms. Hudson. My name is Phipps."

Hearing his voice jolted me awake. How could that nasal tone ever belong to Ernest?

Ernest's voice was deep and magnetic, polished to perfection.

The man before me sounded utterly off-putting.

Yet, his face was strikingly similar to Ernest's, almost identical. The only difference was this man's pale and smooth skin, in contrast to Ernest's rougher complexion.

"Are we going to practice or not? If you mess up on stage later, don't look at me," the interrupted stage director complained.

"Let's practice," Grant pulled me aside, signaling for the lights to be dimmed again.

As the rehearsal resumed, I stood there, frozen, watching the shapes move under the spotlight.

"That guy does look a lot like Ernest, but their vibes and the way they speak are totally different. It's probably just a resemblance," Grant tried to console me.

I ignored him, turning to Allen, "Is his name really Phipps?"

Allen's lips curled into a smirk, "Of course. What else would he be called?"

I scrutinized Allen, hoping to decipher something, but his mischievously ambiguous expression revealed nothing. So, went straight to the point, "This man, can you tell me more about

him?"

"Sure, let me tell you, he's quite the catch. Like I said, he's the top model among all the guys here. He's been in the business for almost two years, with loads of experience. Anything others can't handle, he nails it. Plus, with those looks and that physique, he's second to none."