Virgin Delivery Girl - Chapter 12: Chapter 12
You are reading Virgin Delivery Girl, Chapter 12: Chapter 12. Read more chapters of Virgin Delivery Girl.
Sometimes, growth happens in an instant.
Her voice on the phone was laced with confusion. After a long silence, I finally found my words.
"I fought them off—with a kitchen knife. Now I'm in the capital. I reported everything."
"What? They escaped again? And you faced them alone? And you got away?"
Victoria Evans didn't hold back her praise. Hours later, she pulled up in her truck to find me.
She flashed me a thumbs-up, grinning. "You're something else. How about this—wanna be my little sister?"
It was more than I could've hoped for.
"But..."
Then the grief hit me like a truck.
A neighbor had just told me—Jake Lombardi had beaten Sunny and Daisy to death.
That monster.
Some villagers even suggested cooking the dogs, claiming they'd "eaten everyone's food."
I lost it.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"They never took a bite from you! Easy to say when it's not your loss!"
I didn't waste my breath arguing. Instead, I tracked down their owner, paid way too much, and buried Sunny and Daisy beside my family's graves.
I brought Victoria to the Roland plot. Tears streaming, I knelt and spoke to my ancestors.
"Don't judge me. These weren't just dogs—they saved your descendant's life."
Victoria stood quietly, her eyes glistening.
"You're going to do amazing things," she said softly. "I can feel it."
"Dad, Mom, Grandma... all of you. Your Vivian's leaving now. But I'll be back."
Victoria poured a glass of wine as an offering, then knelt beside me and bowed three times—deep, reverent.
"Finally," she whispered, "I have family."
I hugged her and sobbed.
From that day on, I lived with Victoria. She got me a job. I woke at dawn to run, trained in martial arts with her, worked hard by day, studied harder by night.
For the first time, my life had direction. My body grew stronger, my mind sharper. Boys started noticing—flirting, lingering.
But love? Most of it was smoke—bright, then gone.
I didn't dare risk it. Two years later, Victoria asked me point-blank:
"Don't you ever want what I have? A husband? Kids?"
The question blindsided me. I fumbled for an answer.
She just squeezed my hand.
"You're right. Everyone's path is different. If it's not for you, don't force it. No one gets to decide for you."
Exactly. I'll be the author of my own life. It's too short to live for anyone else.
First, be a good person.
Then? Be a happy one.
Her voice on the phone was laced with confusion. After a long silence, I finally found my words.
"I fought them off—with a kitchen knife. Now I'm in the capital. I reported everything."
"What? They escaped again? And you faced them alone? And you got away?"
Victoria Evans didn't hold back her praise. Hours later, she pulled up in her truck to find me.
She flashed me a thumbs-up, grinning. "You're something else. How about this—wanna be my little sister?"
It was more than I could've hoped for.
"But..."
Then the grief hit me like a truck.
A neighbor had just told me—Jake Lombardi had beaten Sunny and Daisy to death.
That monster.
Some villagers even suggested cooking the dogs, claiming they'd "eaten everyone's food."
I lost it.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"They never took a bite from you! Easy to say when it's not your loss!"
I didn't waste my breath arguing. Instead, I tracked down their owner, paid way too much, and buried Sunny and Daisy beside my family's graves.
I brought Victoria to the Roland plot. Tears streaming, I knelt and spoke to my ancestors.
"Don't judge me. These weren't just dogs—they saved your descendant's life."
Victoria stood quietly, her eyes glistening.
"You're going to do amazing things," she said softly. "I can feel it."
"Dad, Mom, Grandma... all of you. Your Vivian's leaving now. But I'll be back."
Victoria poured a glass of wine as an offering, then knelt beside me and bowed three times—deep, reverent.
"Finally," she whispered, "I have family."
I hugged her and sobbed.
From that day on, I lived with Victoria. She got me a job. I woke at dawn to run, trained in martial arts with her, worked hard by day, studied harder by night.
For the first time, my life had direction. My body grew stronger, my mind sharper. Boys started noticing—flirting, lingering.
But love? Most of it was smoke—bright, then gone.
I didn't dare risk it. Two years later, Victoria asked me point-blank:
"Don't you ever want what I have? A husband? Kids?"
The question blindsided me. I fumbled for an answer.
She just squeezed my hand.
"You're right. Everyone's path is different. If it's not for you, don't force it. No one gets to decide for you."
Exactly. I'll be the author of my own life. It's too short to live for anyone else.
First, be a good person.
Then? Be a happy one.
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