No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

Chapter 165



Ernest turned his head toward me, his grip on my hand noticeably tightening. In that moment, it felt like he had a hold on my heart itself. They say there's a direct connection between the heart and the hands, and boy, did I feel it then.

"I'm going to give Licia everything I have, love her as deeply as I love my own life, protect her with everything I've got," Ernest's eyes locked on mine, deep and affectionate, shimmering with unspoken promises. Love as deep as the ocean—his gaze finally made me understand the true weight of those words. Even though our relationship was all for show, I could feel Ernest's sincere declaration of love.

This man was playing for keeps, pulling off a real-life romance under the guise of pretense. There was nothing for it but to play along, lifting my hand to grasp his in return, yet part of me wanted to grit my teeth in frustration. I'd asked him to put on an act, not to blur the lines between fiction and reality.

So, I raised my hand to his face and pinched gently, expecting him to blush in his usual straightforward, honest manner.

he rubbed his cheek against my hand, much like a teddy bear pleading

Jacqueline, adding, "And I'll love her for a lifetime,

was a clear jab at Jacqueline. I

let Ernest chat with Jacqueline. You, come with me to the

Herschel led the way. I had a pretty good guess about what

study, I expected

handed me a gift box, "Felicia, open this. Use your new pens and ink to join me in some writing. Joining him in writing was a tradition long forgotten. It had been at least three years since, all because of something Jacqueline had said about children avoiding their parents as they grow up, especially since

conversations relegated to the garden or living room. Today's break from foutine left me uneasy, but I didn't

he mused, examining the pens. "Ink and pens are priceless," I replied with a smile. Herschel chuckled, "Right,

to write once ready. 'One leaf signals the coming of autumn, that was what Herschel wrote. In the midst of summer his choice

erstanding of my unspoken