No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 200

Where can I find their memories now?

"Felicia," someone called out to me at the entrance of the hallway.

It was the landlady from across the hall.

No need to ask, I knew she was here because of the demolition news.

"Felicia, it's such a shame this place is getting torn down," she sighed, a rare display of emotion from her.

I had no words, just a face full of sadness. The landlady continued, "I just spent a fortune fixing up the place. It hasn't even been rented out for a month and now we have to kick people out. Such a loss."

I said nothing.

"Felicia, I've been trying to reach the young man renting from me, but he's not answering. If you see him today, could you tell him to give me a call? And let him know about the demolition so he can start looking for a new place and get his things in order," The landlady requested.

"Sure," I agreed.

"Thank you, Felicia," The landlady was polite, but then she couldn't help but gossip, "You've met the young man renting my place, right? He's a decent guy, isn't he?"

I couldn't help but smirk, "He's alright."

"Such high standards, Felicia. To think such a fine young man is just 'alright' to you. If I had a daughter, I'd want him as a son-in-law," The landlady obviously had a soft spot for Ernest.

"You could always have another," I teased her.

Normally, she might have taken offense, but there had been a buzz recently about a woman in her sixties having a baby, which made the news.

The landlady just laughed, "I don't have the energy for that anymore, you're teasing me."

I just smiled, while she went on, "You should start packing up as well. Get rid of what you don't need, sell what you can. I have a guy who deals in second-hand goods, pays well and is very reliable. I'll give you his number. You can sell him whatever you don't need."

While I was packing up, I felt even more the need to find a place for these memories.

At the bottom of a pile, I found an old wicker basket. I remembered it well because I have a photo of me sitting on it.

Dad said it was his backpack when he left the orphanage, akin to a suitcase back in the day.

I opened it to find Dad's navy blue vest, which made me think of Ernest's green vest.

Beneath the vest was a notebook, clipped with a pen. I opened it and recognized Dad's handwriting. The familiarity made my breath catch.

Tears fell, blurring the ink on the page.

I hastily tried to wipe them away, but in doing so, dropped the notebook. Something fell out.

I picked it up. It was a contract. Flipping through it, when I saw the signatures and the seal at the end, I froze.