No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

That night, I was out like a light, sleeping deeply until the noise from outside woke me up.

It wasn't Ernest talking, but a woman with a thick local accent. You could tell from the voice it wasn't a young girl's. Girls have those soft, clear voices, while women's tend to be deeper and rougher.

I pride myself on being able to recognize people by their voices, yet I never saw it coming that the man I loved for a decade was nothing but a jerk. People said you had moved on from someone when you didn't always think of him. I guessed I was not there yet. I kept finding my thoughts drifting to Conrad, even if it was not love, maybe bitterness, but he was still on my mind.

I didn't get up. I just lay there, listening to the conversation outside.

"Ethel, where's Ernest?" the woman asked.

"He took off early this morning," Ethel seemed to be washing something. The sound of running water filled the background.

"Oh, I thought he was still in bed," the woman sounded amused.

"Fat Jean, what does it matter to you whether Ernest is up or not? He's not into you. Save yourself the trouble," Ethel was brutally honest.

Most people couldn't handle that, but the widow outside didn't seem to mind and even laughed, "Ethel, you don't know anything. Men love it when you play hard to get."

I snorted with laughter, thinking this woman sure was confident.

"Well, all I know is he tossed you out like an old rag," Ethel didn't hold back.

"What would you know at your age?" Fat Jean seemed ticked off.

"I know enough to have some shame, enough to keep my dignity," Ethel's words earned my silent applause.

"Ethel, we're neighbors. I've looked

after you more than once. You could

at least help me out instead of d

me down," Fat Jean tried to

guilt-trip Ethel.

Ethel didn't play along. "Sure, you've helped me, but your intentions were never pure. You just wanted to see more of Ernest."

"Ha, ha..." I chuckled under my covers. Ethel's sharp tongue was impressive.

"Enough of that. I heard you'd taken in a pretty young thing?" Fat Jean switched the topic to me.

"Yeah, she's got skin so soft and

smooth. And she's such a pure,

innocent girl. I'm quite fond of

Ethe praised me so much that I couldn't help but touch my face.

Indeed, it felt soft and smooth.

"Is that so? I'd like to see her," Fat Jean's words had me sitting up. It seemed she had come for me, probably worried I'd snag her beloved Ernest.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I slid my feet, nails painted a pretty

color, into my slippers and threw on a milky white silk nightgown, its thin straps looking like they could snap at any moment.

Coupled with my fluffy and lazy curls after getting out of bed, I was a sight of languid charm and tenderness.

Yawning, I opened the door and stepped out. "Ethel, your place needs better soundproofing. I get woken up every day."

While I was speaking, Fat Jean's eyes landed on me, her look shifting from shock to envy, then to jealousy and admiration.

Ethel glanced at me. "Sorry, dear. My place isn't the best with noise. I'll make sure to keep the door closed and keep the noise down for you." I silently chuckled. "Thanks, Ethel."

Then, I went to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste from the sink. Next to mine, I noticed a military green toothbrush holder, undoubtedly Ernest's. Mine was pink, and Ernest's was green. His was a bit larger, and mine was smaller. Despite everything, they looked pretty good together.