No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 693

"Time for dinner," Phipps called out to me.

I didn't move, just watched him as he set the table. "Come on, give it a taste."

Under the soft glow of the lamp, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Ernest. It was almost eerie, especially the way he stirred the pot earlier.

People can disguise themselves, but oftentimes, it's the little habits and gestures they can't hide.

So Phipps was my Ernest, wasn't he?

With that thought, I got up and walked over, wrapping my arms around him from behind, my cheek pressed against his back.

Phipps tensed up but didn't push me away. Instead, he said, "Dinner's ready."

"You're Ernest, aren't you?" I whispered.

Phipps didn't answer. I turned him around to face me, insisting, "There's no one else here, just you and me. Tell me you're Ernest, please?"

"I'm not," he replied coldly, shattering my fantasy.

"I am Phipps!" he stressed.

I didn't ask further, just slowly let go of his hand and even apologized, "Sorry, you cooking in that apron, even stirring the pot with your left hand three times... You reminded me so much of Ernest."

Phipps's jaw tightened. "That's just a coincidence."

"Yeah, a coincidence that you look so much like him, I thought you were him," I said with a bitter smile, sitting down at the table and picking up a fork to try his food.

I frowned as soon as I tasted it. Phipps noticed and asked, "Not good? Too salty or too bland?"

I didn't answer. My frown wasn't because of the taste or the seasoning, but because it wasn't Ernest's cooking.

So, he wasn't Ernest.

This man had me oscillating between hope and despair, torturing me with the uncertainty.

"Hmm?" Phipps seemed patient, waiting for my response.