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.

don't want to share, fine. Whether you have a secret or not, it doesn't matter to me anymore. Knowing won't change anything," I

I even trying to make

mere curiosity, and now it

but my chest felt all tight. I realized then, Ernest's silent demeanor irked me more than Conrad's slick explanations ever

to pack, but what did I have

me here with nothing; all my belongings were still

to take with me, though:

I couldn't take it without being

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

door. The others were gone, leaving only Yolande querying Ernest, "Are you in this till the bitter

but

mentioned danger. What danger? From Brown, or

no longer interested. Ernest's

of this and walked over to Yolande. "Let's

looked at

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