Crises in Love (Zora and Jaylan) novel Chapter 392

Monique’s eyes darted around, seemingly stumped by my words, then glanced at her grandpa before suddenly declaring, “What's the big deal about time? Grandpa, I'll just move to Silverdale City for school! Is that alright?”

Clearly, I had lit a fire under her. She was ready to go all in, come hell or high water.

I was secretly thrilled, knowing I still had a knack for pushing Monique's buttons. She was a hot-blooded dynamo who thrived on challenges and committed wholeheartedly once provoked.

With her chin defiantly jutted out, Monique added pressure on my dad, “Grandpa, you promised if I got to know this place like the back of my hand, I’d get to run Oldtown Avenue. You have to keep your word!”

Dad watched Monique and I talk, each of us unwilling to back down, with a smug grin.

I knew he was the real kingpin behind the scenes!

“Monique, when have I ever broken a promise? Anyone who wants to do big things has to mean what they say and keep their word. If you truly get to know Oldtown Avenue inside and out, you’ll be its queen!”

Geez, listen to him—the old fox spinning yarns to the kids again.

Monique's face went through a kaleidoscope of expressions as she listened to grandpa's spiel.

“And if you start delving into it now, by the time you’ve mastered it, you’ll be handling it like a pro. You’ll be legendary.”

I nearly choked. Legendary, huh?

“Legendary?” Monique asked.

My father nodded with certainty and answered, “Exactly! People will write about how Monique Dawson, at the tender age of ten, began her in-depth exploration of Oldtown Avenue, documenting every landscape, growing up alongside it, and witnessing its prosperity...

But then dad spoke up again, his voice serious as he addressed Monique, “Your mom loves you too much not to support your decisions, but let me tell you something. If you study in Silverdale City, you're not going to some fancy private school. You'll attend a regular public school and be an ordinary student. No sense of superiority; you’ll be just like everyone else, through elementary, middle, and high school, until you go off to college.”

Monique straightened her little neck and said, “No problem. I never wanted to go to any snooty private school anyway. The kids there are all so fake, always showing off—their pens, of all things! And they said my mom wouldn't pick me up because she was going to die. Mom, you are not going to die. You’re fine!”

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, yet she stubbornly held them in, refusing to allow any to escape down her cheeks. I was shocked, “People said that? That’s just evil!”

Clearly, someone had spread the news of my illness, twisting it into a cruel joke.

Monique nodded sadly. “Yeah, that's what they said! So I was mad, but then I'd come home and find you really were in bed. What could I do?”

Her eyelids drooped, and a tear rolled down her cheek, which she quickly cleaned, muttering, “I couldn't just fight them. There were too many of them anyway. Who was I supposed to hit?”