No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 397

I can't remember exactly when my phone died, but I do recall being scooped up from the bathroom into Ernest's arms, feeling as if every bone in my body had turned to jelly.

I was so tired, too tired to even lift my eyelids. I curled up under the covers and fell asleep.

"Just rest for a bit. I'll make you some chicken soup," Ernest's husky voice murmured close to my ear.

I hummed in response and drifted off into sleep.

However, in my half-asleep state, I kept hearing my phone ringing.

But I didn't want to move, nor could I open my eyes. I groped around beside me, finding nothing.

"Ernest, Ernest..." I called out.

Ernest hurried over, bending down slightly, "What's up?"

My eyes remained closed as I continued, "My phone...it's so noisy."

"Hm?" He seemed not to catch what I said.

"The phone, noisy," I repeated.

Ernest didn't respond at first, but after a moment, he said, "Licia, you're dreaming. Your phone isn't making noise; it's turned off."

Really? But what about the ringing I heard?

I didn't speak further, choosing instead to continue sleeping until I woke up.

Ernest was sitting at the desk across the bed, seemingly engrossed in drawing something. He was so focused he didn't notice I had woken up.

I sat up and saw he was working on some blueprints.

He had never stopped working, which explained why Grant Smith never gave him a hard time for not going to the office.

He had silently taken care of everything that needed to be done.

Seeing him like this, I didn't have the heart to disturb him, so I quietly got out of bed.

Ernest made soup and some side dishes, all available from the hotel room's kitchen. Hotel marketing has indeed evolved, offering much more than just a room and a bed, providing amenities almost like home.

After eating the soup and sides, my throat felt much better.

However, having just woken up, I was no longer tired, but Ernest seemed to be. I caught him trying to keep his eyes open several times.

"Ernest, you should get some sleep. I can take care of the dishes," I said, gently pushing him towards the bedroom.

"I need to take a shower; I smell like cooking," Ernest meant he hadn't showered after cooking and immediately got to work on his drawings.

I turned him towards the bathroom, urging him, "Then hurry up."

As I pulled him closer, I sniffed his hair, "It smells good, no smell of cooking. You don't need to wash your hair."

He frowned, "You can shower without washing your hair?"

"Of course," I chuckled. "Ernest, you don't wash your hair every time you shower, do you?"