Hidup Itu Pilihan Novels & Stories

He realized it was his own fault that the school had looked down on him even though the speech he wrote should even have an award but instead, his dressing had showed a poor sensed human being. He needed to to do something meaningful with his life. His life didn't end when Jane left him

, I say. "Khuda Hafiz", he gives up as I cut the call. Why is it so tough to survive as you want? Taking birth in a society that thinks they have the right to take decisions of your life. It's so weird that we're not born by our own choice, nor do we die by choice. Still, throughout our lifetime, nothing happens according to our choice. "Don't you get tired of fighting over marriage?" Mia asks, slamming the magazine shut and peeking from her bed.

"You don't choose it. When you really think about it, how much of your life do you actually get to choose? Like, how much is what you want, and how much is just what's given to you?" Uriel hummed, vibrations numbing Erin's slim cheek. "If you think about it like that, you won't appreciate any of it. I guess what does matter is what you choose to do with what is given to you." Uriel remarked. "Besides, I like a lot of the stuff I didn't choose."

LIFE WILL give you too many choices but you were not allowed to choose as many as you can or to choose nothing at all. There should be one to pick from all those choices but the reason for your decision will depend on you. After all, it will depend on you for choosing what you wanted, what you needed, and what you had to—as long as you chose only one. "So how do you choose flavor? Why are they all delicious?" Cinquain suddenly asked me as she jumped over her bed.

“You must think I'm stupid to do something like that…” “No, you're not stupid.” Lisette's eyes are sweet, so understanding. “No one who lives so close to death would think little of it. And when someone chooses it, that only means that living has become more frightening and painful than ending it all. It's not stupid, nor selfish… it's just a choice.” Eleonor opens her lips but can't say a single word.

She dipped the tip of her finger into the water and created a ripple effect. “This is how life is my dear, every decision affects the other, everything is predestined… if you had everything the way you want it; we’ll then you’d be in paradise… but life is all about trials and tribulations… making you. Stronger person and a fierce wolf. Presented with the current situation in your life; either way you will lose someone you love” “But… how do I choose between my parents and the love of my life?” “Have faith in divine intervention… everything will work out for you in the best possible way…. Just have faith”

There are people who will try to define your life using your bloodline. They will tell you that you are either a curse or a legacy. I pause. That line feels too familiar. I glance briefly at Selene. At Darius. At Ravenna standing further back. Everyone in my life has done exactly that in different ways. The letter continues: But you are neither. You are choice. That word lands differently. Choice. Something I’ve never really been allowed to fully have. I lean slightly toward Daruis. My voice is low. “Do you think this will change my decision about everything?”

“Not me. Not your father. Not even Hunter. Or... King Alaric anyway.” Her hand squeezed mine gently. “This is your life, Hope. You have to be the one to decide how you live it.” I looked down at our hands, my thoughts spinning. “What if I make the wrong choice?” I asked quietly. She smiled softly. “Then you learn from it,” she said. “That’s how life works.” I shook my head slightly. “That sounds easier than it is.” “It is,” she admitted. “But avoiding the choice won’t make it any easier either.”

I said, staring at my hands. “Good.” She nodded once. “Remember that. Especially when they start offering you reasons and tears and pretty futures.” “How do I choose?” I asked, the question ripping out before I could stop it. “How am I supposed to look at them—at what they are, what they’ve done—and decide who lives, who…breaks?” Nyra’s eyes were tired. “You don’t choose between them,” she said. “Not really. You choose yourself. You decide what kind of life you will not regret when you’re old and your bones ache, and the Moon is almost ready to call you home.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. But still…” She hesitated, then said quietly, “Dying or losing yourself — neither’s much of a life. If it were me, I’d pick living. Even if it meant letting go.” My stomach turned, my breath catching. “Letting go?” I echoed, almost a whisper. “Yeah.” Her eyes softened. “Sometimes it’s the only way to stay. So you choose, it's either you lose everything or get rid of it .” I didn’t even hear the door open.