Bye-Bye Jerk, Hello Mr. Right

The driver looked rough and tough, a bit intimidating.

The guys I was used to were always clean–cut, with fair skin, dressed in suits, ties, and overcoats. But this guy? He looked like he might’ve just gotten out of prison.

I instinctively tightened my grip on my bag, remembering the pepper spray and self–defense knife Lena had slipped inside before I left.

But before I could even think about reaching for them, the driver had already started the car and stayed silent.

‘What was that look he gave me supposed to mean?‘ I wondered.

I couldn’t figure it out, and my brief moment of calm was suddenly replaced by unease. Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Because I was on high alert, I didn’t pay much attention to the townscape. When the car finally stopped, I quickly paid and got out, watching the taxi drive away before letting out a sigh of relief.

It was already ten at night, and I realized coming here at this hour might not have been the smartest

move.

I could have waited until the next day to search for my parents‘ old home. But since I was already here, there was no point in second–guessing.

The area in front of me was incredibly run–down, with crumbling walls and pothole–ridden streets filled with puddles.

My rolling suitcase was useless on this kind of street, so I had to carry it.

My dad’s address was 42 Oldbridge Street. I checked each house number until I found it, marked with a sign at the entrance indicating it was for rent.

‘Who would want to rent a place like this? Only an idiot,‘ I thought to myself as I walked in. It was a small courtyard surrounded by buildings. In the middle stood a tree, barely visible in the darkness.

I knew it was a ginkgo tree, the one my dad had watched grow.

“Are you looking for someone or a place to stay?” an elderly voice asked.

I turned to see a granny with gray hair, leaning on a walking stick, scrutinizing me.

“I… I want to rent a room,” I said, pointing to the easternmost room. “That one.”

My dad had told me this courtyard had three bedrooms. The main hall in the middle was for guests and daily activities, the kitchen was on the west side, and the bedrooms were on the east.

When my parents left, they sold the property. It had since been renovated, and the old traces were gone, but I wanted to stay in the room where my pare

“That room is occupied. You can stay in this one,” the old lady said, pointing to the adjoining room.

I didn’t respond, still wanting the easternmost room.

Sensing my hesitation, the old lady explained, “That room is old. This one is newer and better for a young girl like you. Let me show you. By the way, I’m Macy Matchley. You can just call me Macy.”

“Keira Kay.”

Macy then led me to the room, and inside, it was clean, with fresh white walls and tidy bedding.

“It looks nice, but I still want that room,” I insisted, my stubborn streak showing.

Macy sighed. “You can wait for the tenant to come back and see if he’s willing to switch with you.”

“Alright,” I agreed.

Even if I couldn’t snag that exact room, I was dead set on staying here, all because of that ginkgo tree. I handed some cash to Macy, grabbed the hot water she’d boiled to make tea, and made my way back to my room. Just as I was about to get cozy, my phone buzzed.

I figured it was Lena checking up on my digs, but I froze when I saw the caller ID.

Someone I hadn’t talked to in forever was calling me–on a number that had been silent for ten years.

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