No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

Ernest's eyes seemed to darken as he turned his gaze towards Yolande.

She raised an eyebrow, embodying the very essence of assertiveness.

In Ernest's world, she seemed to roam freely, undaunted by his presence. "Spill it, then. No use in tormenting the poor soul," Yolande chimed in.

Ernest looked back at me. "If you're leaving, go pack your..."

"Ernest," I cut him off, "why can't you give a straight answer?"

"I'll leave you two to chat," Yolande said, distancing herself from the conversation.

There we stood, Ernest and I, face to face.

"So, what do you think my big secret is?" he retorted.

That got me. Yolande was already playing coy, and now Ernest was dodging the question.

It was clear he didn't want to talk.

you have a secret or not, it

even

now it seemed even

myself to stay calm, but my chest felt all tight. I realized then,

pack, but what did

all my belongings were still

one thing I wished to take

take

entries instead. It wasn't snooping for the sake of it; there seemed to be something hidden in those last

the door. The others were gone, leaving only Yolande querying Ernest, "Are you in this till the bitter end, or do you think you're still in

for his response, but he walked away without a

danger?

longer interested. Ernest's fate was

reminded myself of this and walked

to want to say something as she looked at me,

enigma to me; Ernest's fiancée, yet seemingly eager to clear