No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

I grabbed my toothbrush cup and brushed my teeth without glancing at Fat Jean. Yet, her eyes never left me, scanning me from head to toe and back again.

"Licia, meet Fat Jean," Ethel suddenly introduced us.

With my mouth full of toothpaste, I nodded at Fat Jean.

She had a round face, wasn't fat, and was in a floral dress, her face done up nicely. It was clear she had made an effort.

"Fat Jean, this is the Licia I've been telling you about. I wasn't lying. Look how fresh-faced she is," Ethel was hand-washing some clothes.

When Fat Jean and I locked eyes, I could see a hint of envy, though she wouldn't admit it. "Well, she's younger. Of course, she looks fresh. I was just as good-looking at her age."

Ethel snorted, and Fat Jean shot her a look. Their silent battle was like a comedy to me.

As I finished brushing my teeth, Fat Jean finally spoke, "So, Ms. Hudson, are you here visiting relatives or just for fun?"

"Just hanging out," I answered while rinsing the toothbrush cup.

"Did you come alone, or is there a boyfriend in the picture?" Fat Jean's question made me laugh.

"Single!" My response seemed to sour her mood noticeably.

"Ernest has a crush on her and even asked me to play matchmaker. Don't you think they'd make a fine pair?" Ethel always had my back.

Fat Jean's lips twitched, and finally, she said, "That rough man hoping to date the pretty girl needs the pretty girl to be interested first."

For once, her jealousy admitted that I was the pretty girl.

Ethel turned to me, "Licia, you dreamt of marrying Ernest, right?"

I just stood there. "Yes."

Fat Jean was speechless, her gaze filled with resentment and annoyance. Then she declared, "Ms. Hudson, just for the record, Ernest is my man. Don't get any ideas."

I flicked a strand of hair from my face, "Oh? Did you sleep with him?"

Fat Jean's face turned red, reminding me of Ethel's story about Ernest tossing her out.

"Since you haven't slept together,Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

aren't dating, and aren't married, et

don't see how it's any of your business what happens between him and me." I didn't hold back.

Fat Jean couldn't respond but glared at me and Ethel before storming off.

"Some people have no shame," Ethel clicked her tongue as she wrung the clothes to dry.

"Let me help you with that," I offered.

We were hanging the clothes on a clothesline in the yard. Then I noticed Ernest's green tank top among them, triggering visions of him in it, muscles taut.

Unexpectedly, my face heated up.

I didn't see Ernest that day or the next. When I asked Ethel, she mentioned he had come and gone. It felt like he was avoiding me, perhaps embarrassed by my rejection. But why should that bother me?

e

I didn't dwell on it. Over the next few days, I grew accustomed to life on this street, especially enjoying the vibrant market in the afternoon, with vendors lining both sides.

Even if I didn't need anything, I'd still take a walk and maybe buy some fruits or vegetables.

Today, the watermelons at the market looked particularly good, so I bought one. But as I was almost home, my foot slipped on something.

As my ankle twisted and I started to fall, suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, steadying me.