No More Waiting, She Chooses Love



"Yes, I was reminding him.

Because I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

But at that moment, I also didn't want to argue with him. I matched his grim expression, "Conrad, I traveled miles to be here. Are you really going to pick a fight with me?"

He suddenly fell silent, his lips twitching, before finally saying, "Give me your bags."

I didn't hesitate, releasing my suitcase to join him outside.

He didn't bring up Jefferson's situation, so I took the initiative, "What's going on with Jefferson? What's this about a fight?"

"He's being held, and they're not allowing visitors right now," Conrad's words made me frown.

If that was the case, my trip here was for nothing.

I came because he told me Jefferson was losing it, and I wanted to help chill him out.

"But I'm working on pulling some strings. You should be able to see him," Conrad threw in a twist.

I didn't bite, instead asking, "Why did Jefferson get into a fight?"

"It started over a conflict during practice. The guy, Deck, he's a sparring partner at the gym, but he's uncooperative, always showing up late or leaving early. He's not focused during the sessions. Jefferson asked for a replacement, which got Deck reprimanded by the gym. He held a grudge, they exchanged words, and it escalated from there."

Thinking of Jefferson's current predicament, I knew it wasn't a simple scuffle, "So, Deck got hurt? Badly?"

"He fell, hit his head on a pool table... didn't make it."

My heart sank, and I stopped in my tracks.

Conrad stopped too, "The autopsy results haven't come back yet. If it proves Jefferson didn't directly cause the death, his charges could be much lighter."

But he was speaking in 'ifs,' so I asked about the other possibility, "And if the results do link back to Jefferson?"

I thought of an age-old saying, an eye for an eye.

This principle is universal.

"I'm already looking into it. It

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shouldn't come to that," Conrad said, checking the time, "You haven't

eaten, have you? Let's get

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something to eat."

I was too worried about Jefferson to think about food, "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something, or else I can't explain myself to...," Conrad glanced at me.

He was referring to Ernest.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Suddenly, I found Ernest's confidence in leaving me in Conrad's care to be foolish.

Conrad was my ex, the one I loved for a decade. Even if Ernest trusted that I wouldn't go back, wasn't be worried Conrad still had feelings for me?

"You seem very dedicated," I said, lacing my words with a hint of mockery.

Conrad glared at me, his expression darkening further.

We remained silent after that, and as we got into the car, he asked, "American or French food?"

Then, remembering something, he added, "You don't like French food much, do we'll go to an American restaurant."

As we drove through the foreign city, I watched silently out the window until we reached the restaurant.

When Conrad asked me to order, I

chose only two vegetable dishes. He a bowl of soup and a dessert to our order.

Ps ded

"I don't need dessert," I refused.

"Take it," he countered, "Didn't you say desserts help improve your mood when you're feeling down?"

He actually remembered.

"Not all bad moods can be sweetened," I retorted.

I didn't need to be like this, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

"Does poking at me make you feel better, like it makes up for past grievances?" Conrad said while pouring water.

"No, but I can't help wanting to poke at you," I admitted, quite straightforwardly.