Step aside, Uncle Pride：Your Nephew is My Next Man - Chapter 68: Chapter 68
You are reading Step aside, Uncle Pride：Your Nephew is My Next Man, Chapter 68: Chapter 68. Read more chapters of Step aside, Uncle Pride：Your Nephew is My Next Man.
I spent a day in the hospital, then checked out to prepare for the welcome party performance.
But when I got back to the dorm, my roommates were cold and sarcastic, convinced I'd faked the allergy to cause trouble.
I slapped my hospital records down in front of them.
When they saw "severe anaphylactic shock," their eyes went wide and they couldn't say a word.
I ignored them after that.
The professor said after the welcome party, I'd transfer to the business campus and get a new dorm.
Word was the business dean would attend, and making a good impression might get me into the honors program.
So I spent my days doing orientation activities and my nights practicing piano in the music room.
Marcus kept texting me, but I blocked him without reading them.
The day before the welcome party, I went to pick up a package and ran into him again.
He was holding my delivery.
I held out my hand. "Give it."
He held the package up high with that cocky grin.
"Still mad, huh? Want it? Add me back on Instagram and I'll give it to you."
The package was the performance dress Dad had sent.
I stared at Marcus's smirk. He clearly had no idea I'd nearly died a few days ago.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone to call his dad.
He immediately grabbed my phone away.
I tried to get it back.
But he held my phone up high, tapped on it a few times, and said:
"Baby, don't be mad. My advisor wants me to help in the lab over break—I'll be gone for over two weeks."
"Two weeks without talking... I can't handle that. Can you?"
I snapped, "Go wherever you want! It's none of my business—we're BROKEN UP!"
Marcus gave me that exasperated smile and pulled me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.
"Silly girl, how many times do I have to say I love you before you believe me?"
His sweet words made me sick.
How could he juggle two girls, constantly choose her over me, and still claim to love me?
I broke free and ran off, forgetting about the dress.
I texted him later:
[That package has my performance dress. Bring it to me NOW—I need it for the welcome party!]
He took forever to reply:
[Too late today. I'll bring it tomorrow. Good night, baby girl.]
When I kept texting, he went silent.
I was frustrated but figured I'd wait until tomorrow.
But the next day when I asked again:
[Joy, I'm swamped today. I'll bring it to you at the party tonight.]
I tried to breathe through my irritation.
"Marcus, tonight's performance is really important to me! You HAVE to bring the dress early!"
As showtime approached, I called him over and over backstage.
Then I heard the announcer: "Please welcome freshman Chelsea Morrison and senior Marcus Blackthorne for their piano duet of 'Unheard Melodies.'"
"Hello, the number you have dialed is not available..."
I pushed aside the curtain and saw Chelsea wearing the dress my mother had made me, sitting under the stage lights with Marcus, playing together.
I heard people saying, "That freshman's dress is gorgeous—they look so perfect together!"
"Right? Did you see that look they shared? OMG, so sweet!"
"I heard the senior agreed to perform just to support her."
My hands clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.
"Unheard Melodies" was Marcus's favorite anime theme song, and the first piece we'd ever played together.
He used to say, "You're my leading lady, Joy. I'll never lose my leading lady!"
But his leading lady was done with him.
But when I got back to the dorm, my roommates were cold and sarcastic, convinced I'd faked the allergy to cause trouble.
I slapped my hospital records down in front of them.
When they saw "severe anaphylactic shock," their eyes went wide and they couldn't say a word.
I ignored them after that.
The professor said after the welcome party, I'd transfer to the business campus and get a new dorm.
Word was the business dean would attend, and making a good impression might get me into the honors program.
So I spent my days doing orientation activities and my nights practicing piano in the music room.
Marcus kept texting me, but I blocked him without reading them.
The day before the welcome party, I went to pick up a package and ran into him again.
He was holding my delivery.
I held out my hand. "Give it."
He held the package up high with that cocky grin.
"Still mad, huh? Want it? Add me back on Instagram and I'll give it to you."
The package was the performance dress Dad had sent.
I stared at Marcus's smirk. He clearly had no idea I'd nearly died a few days ago.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone to call his dad.
He immediately grabbed my phone away.
I tried to get it back.
But he held my phone up high, tapped on it a few times, and said:
"Baby, don't be mad. My advisor wants me to help in the lab over break—I'll be gone for over two weeks."
"Two weeks without talking... I can't handle that. Can you?"
I snapped, "Go wherever you want! It's none of my business—we're BROKEN UP!"
Marcus gave me that exasperated smile and pulled me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.
"Silly girl, how many times do I have to say I love you before you believe me?"
His sweet words made me sick.
How could he juggle two girls, constantly choose her over me, and still claim to love me?
I broke free and ran off, forgetting about the dress.
I texted him later:
[That package has my performance dress. Bring it to me NOW—I need it for the welcome party!]
He took forever to reply:
[Too late today. I'll bring it tomorrow. Good night, baby girl.]
When I kept texting, he went silent.
I was frustrated but figured I'd wait until tomorrow.
But the next day when I asked again:
[Joy, I'm swamped today. I'll bring it to you at the party tonight.]
I tried to breathe through my irritation.
"Marcus, tonight's performance is really important to me! You HAVE to bring the dress early!"
As showtime approached, I called him over and over backstage.
Then I heard the announcer: "Please welcome freshman Chelsea Morrison and senior Marcus Blackthorne for their piano duet of 'Unheard Melodies.'"
"Hello, the number you have dialed is not available..."
I pushed aside the curtain and saw Chelsea wearing the dress my mother had made me, sitting under the stage lights with Marcus, playing together.
I heard people saying, "That freshman's dress is gorgeous—they look so perfect together!"
"Right? Did you see that look they shared? OMG, so sweet!"
"I heard the senior agreed to perform just to support her."
My hands clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.
"Unheard Melodies" was Marcus's favorite anime theme song, and the first piece we'd ever played together.
He used to say, "You're my leading lady, Joy. I'll never lose my leading lady!"
But his leading lady was done with him.
End of Step aside, Uncle Pride：Your Nephew is My Next Man Chapter 68. Continue reading Chapter 69 or return to Step aside, Uncle Pride：Your Nephew is My Next Man book page.