No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

As I opened Facebook, I noticed a friend request notification. I'm not one to add strangers unless they've found me through a shared phone number. Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked on the request. The username was "Justice Heart," accompanied by a note that read: "This is Officer Sampson."

Such an authoritative title isn't something you'd expect from just anybody.

Racking my brain, I tried to recall who this person could be. The only police officer I had interacted with recently was the one who had issued a death certificate for me the day before.

At that moment, I hadn't inquired about his first name, but he was the only officer I had come into contact with recently, and he had indeed asked for my phone number.

I accepted the request, and we were officially connected on Messenger, ready to exchange messages. However, I refrained from initiating any conversation.

He was the one who added me; if there was something important, he'd reach out.

Next, I shot a message to Fanny: "Dating's all about charm and flirtation. You're like Wonder Woman, all steel and strength. It's hard for a guy to feel needed with you."

After sending the message, I glanced at Fanny, but she showed no signs of having noticed, as if her phone was miles away.

But I wasn't really expecting an immediate response; it was more about planting the idea for next time.

"Quit your scrolling, let's eat," Ernest nudged me.

I obediently responded with an "Okay" and started on my meal.

My throat was still sore, limiting my appetite, but the sweet juice was soothing and delectably refreshing. It would've been perfect if it was chilled.

Ernest had specifically ordered the juice at room temperature, knowing I was on my period.

I didn't have much of an appetite and played with my food while Ernest ate with focus.

Despite his tough appearance,

Ernest ate neatly, though quickly He

polished off his plate of spaghetti

without leaving a single trace

behind, a habit I've noticed ever

since we first met.

This was something I was taught as a child, to never waste food, though I often fell short of that mark.

Teasing Ernest, I said, "Clean plate

club is great and all, but you polish it

l.n

off like you're worried about leaving evidence. At home, it saves on washing up, but out here, people might think you're still hungry and too shy to order more."

"It's not about being shy; it's unnecessary," Ernest replied, then reached over and started on my leftovers.

This wasn't the first time he'd done this, but doing it in a restaurant felt different. "Ernest..."

"What others think doesn't matter. Wasting food isn't right," he retorted, his straightforwardness leaving me speechless.

Embarrassed by his actions, I playfully nudged his leg under the table. He paused mid-bite, his gaze deepening.

I could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and said, "Stop it."

Sipping my juice, I couldn't help but tease him further, "You know, if I choke, it could be your chance to play the hero with some CPR." "Ahem!" It wasn't me who choked, but Ernest.

His reaction only fueled my laughter.

But asContentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

ereveled in the moment, a

loomed behind me,

me

h to nearly spill mo