No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 616

Ernest! Ernest!

I wanted to shout, but it was like an invisible hand was squeezing my throat, silencing me.

I couldn't even muster the energy to stand and check on Ernest, lying motionless on the ground.

"Ernest, talk to me, please, Ernest," Yolande cried, cradling him, shaking him, her voice breaking.

But Ernest remained still, eerily silent. I'd never seen him this quiet before. Even when we shared a bed, his sleep was light; a mere whisper or a gentle nudge would wake him. But now, he didn't respond to Yolande's desperate calls.

What happened to him?!

"Brown, call an ambulance, for God's sake, call now!" Yolande screamed at Brown, tears streaming down her face.

Her talk of calling an ambulance snapped me out of my daze, setting off a scary thought in my head. I finally found a bit of strength and struggled to sit up, crawling toward Ernest.

"Felicia, Rad," Jefferson's familiar voice called from the door, followed by a rush of people crowding in.

Jefferson helped me up but blocked my view of Ernest.

By the time I could see Ernest again, two people were carrying him out, rushing. I wanted to follow, but my legs wouldn't cooperate; they felt like jelly.

"Ernest," I finally managed to speak, but no one answered me.

"He left you not because he stopped loving you or blamed you for moving on. He did it to protect you, and in the end, he did just that," Yolande said, gripping her knees.

Looking closer, I noticed large bruises on her hands, remembering how Ernest shielded me from the hits and Yolande either dodging or catching them, I realized those bruises came from that ordeal.

"Protect me by leaving? What does that even mean?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Yolande sighed. "You really didn't know him at all, did you? Not that I blame you. He always wanted to keep you out of worry, never sharing his burdens."

I realized then how little I knew about him after we parted ways, especially after he became the heir to the Collins family and succeeded in rescuing Jefferson in Houston. But Yolande was right; it wasn't entirely my fault. He chose not to tell me, and what could I have done differently?