No More Waiting, She Chooses Love



To Chase or Not?

I wanted to chase, to get some clarity. But as I saw the lunchbox thrown into the trash can, my courage faltered.

It wasn't just the lunchbox he discarded, nor the food inside. It was my feelings he threw away.

So why bother chasing, asking, only to embarrass myself?

I put down the lunchbox I had retrieved and walked back to my hospital bed, no longer able to bring myself to eat.

The person who had brought back the lunchbox seemed to catch the drift and carefully placed it in front of me. "Just take it back," I said.

"No, it's fine..." the person withdrew their hand.

"It was you who picked it up, it should be yours. Besides, you can eat it without worry," I said, before picking up my fork again and angrily digging into my meal.

Conrad caught someone's eye from across the room, signaling them to take the lunchbox away and then stopped me from continuing to fork a meatball, "Don't take out your frustration on my food."Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

After a pause, he added, "Maybe Ernest left because he saw me here."

That hit me hard. I remembered Conrad wiping my face earlier, and my heart felt sore.

Sigh, it seemed like I couldn't clear my name.

Lost in my thoughts, Conrad had already packed up the food in front of me and left without saying anything.

He didn't say where he was going, and I had no idea until Jacqueline called. "Felicia, there wasn't any trouble when Rad brought you food, was there?"

I was taken aback, "Jacqueline, what's wrong?"

"I saw he had a bruise on his lip, looked like he got into a fight, so I just wanted to check in," Jacqueline's words made my temples throb.

Then a thought crossed my mind. Had Conrad gone to confront Ernest after leaving me?

I didn't voice this thought. Jacqueline rambled on a bit more and even asked if the pies were good.

After hanging up with Jacqueline, I left the hospital.

The next day I was back at work, and as if on cue, I bumped into Grant as soon as I entered the office.

He was all smiles, "Director Hudson, you look even more... shall we say, slim and trim than a few days ago." He was implying I had lost weight.

How could I not have? Between Ernest's cold shoulder and a recent flood, I had dropped at least three pounds.

"Ah, dieting. Seems effective, Mr. Smith noticed," I managed, hiding my inner turmoil behind a facade of strength.

"And Mr. Collins? He's lost weight too, at least five pounds," Grant held up five fingers.

I hadn't really noticed if he was

thinnerne

saw

not because wheneveret

vhim, all I cared about was how

he looked at me.

I didn't respond to that, and Grant stepped closer, "So, you two haven't made up?"

"No," I thought of Ernest's attitude and stubbornly added, "We've broken up, why make up?"

"That's not the way to look at it.

Every couple argues. My fiancée and

I argue all the time, 'breaking up more often than saying 'I love you,"" Grant joked about himself.

Looking at his goofy grin, I said, "Let me guess, the breakup talk is always started by your fiancée?"

Grant paused, then laughed, "How did you know?"

"It's written all over your face," I said, just as the elevator arrived, and I stepped in.

Following me in, Grant then

inspected his reflection in the elevator mirror, "Where? Does Director Hudson think I have a face that screams 'dumped"?"

He really should have been a comedian; being around him could make anyone forget their troubles.

But before I could tease him back, the elevator door opened again, and in walked Ernest.