I Can T Choose Novels & Stories

must not believe that I would finish the selection. Even I don’t believe that I would but there are too many people involved and I don’t want to let them down. I made promises and I am a man of my words. I don’t know if I am happy but let’s just say I feel content because everybody is happy and excited for this selection. The one person I wish would show more enthusiasm is Jessica. She has not said anything against the selection but she doesn’t seem happy either. When I imagined my engagement, I imagined her to be the most enthusiastic and happy person but I guess I was wrong and that doesn’t sit well with me. What is the point of making other people happy if the most important person in y

“Say it!” “No! I’m not yours.” I shake my head frantically again when he increases the pressure against my clit but still refuses to let me climax and the tension in my core writhes and twists barely contained. “I chose you, Ian. I choose you. I’m not just yours. You’re mine.”

“Scarlett chose.” Choose. The same word as before, but heavier now because the bridge beneath us felt smaller. I felt the pull of Loren's offer in Prague, Echo-2 humming strategies back to me, Kade’s mercantile calm, Maria’s venomous ability to wrap truth in cruelty. Choose who would shape me. Choose whether I was a weapon or a queen. Choose who lived and who died. “Will you walk away if I refuse?” I asked Kade. “If I say no?”

After saving money with Justin Pierre for five years, we finally went to view a house. My best friend, Maria Houston, came along too. "The master bedroom needs a walk-in closet. Can we knock down this wall?" she asked Justin while pointing at the floor plan I had been looking at for the past six months. "I'll get a designer to take a look tomorrow. You can change it however you want." The two of them discussed everything, from the direction the apartment faced to the tiles, from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the bathtub. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner, unable to get a word in. When it was time to sign the papers, he seemed to suddenly remember I was here and said, "We'll put this pla

Chapman Senior rolled his eyes and shot back, "I may be old, but I'm neither deaf nor blind. Do you really think I'd get something this important wrong?" "Mr. Chapman Senior was very clear. Beatrice chose Nathaniel as her fiancé," Isaac added. George cut him off. "No, that can't be right. There must have been some mix-up!" He then turned to me, desperation in his eyes. "Bea, this is a mistake, right? You picked me, but Grandpa must have misheard." "I chose Nate," I answered with a cold smile. Nathaniel's head snapped up at the way I addressed him, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"I can't make it. Something urgent came up at the branch office. I have to go on a business trip. Might not be able to contact you for a few days. Have Ruby go to Bodrein City with you, okay? I'll make it up to you when I get back." The flame that had burned for days suddenly extinguished. All that anticipation turned into smoke. Of course, I was upset. But I reminded myself—he didn't have a choice. It was work. For our family. So in the end, I just replied, bitter and hollow, "Okay."

. How spoiled of you to think you can speak for her. She has a right to choose her own suitor. You don't get to make that decision for her just because you like her." Beau said, "You don't even know who she's with so I would watch my mouth and stop making assumptions about her." Fress smiled, saying, "It's too bad she doesn't know how you feel and I think you should stop trying to influence her decisions and let her make a choice on her own. Let her decide if she wants you or me or are you too scared to let her think for herself because you know she wouldn't want you if she had a choice." Beau faced Fress saying, "How I feel about her is none of your concern. I know her and I know she isn't

"Even though I might hurt you. Even though I might become her. Even though I might not know the difference until it's too late." "I already chose you," he said. "In the hallway. When I ran into you. When I researched your coffee. When I—" He stopped, smiled, the crooked version that reached his eyes. "When I let you teach me to skate on ice that might not hold. I've been choosing you. I just didn't know it was a choice until Chelsea made it sound like one." They sat in the library, holding hands, performing choice for anyone who observed, and Grayson felt the shift—the power of public declaration, the risk of commitment, the freedom of wanting without guarantee.

Cyran froze, staring at me as if the words had knocked the air out of him. After a long pause, he stepped forward like a man pleading for mercy and reached for my hand. "What are you saying? You're my only wife. Don't ever throw around talk of divorce like that." I pulled back from his touch. "Didn't you already regret choosing me? Divorce would free you to run back to your old flame." My relentless push finally stripped away his patience.

I said. “I’m telling you that not choosing is still a choice.” The words landed like a final line drawn in the sand. I closed my eyes briefly. I could still walk away. Still go back. Still try to fix what was breaking. But the truth settled heavily in my chest: I didn’t want to. When I opened my eyes, he was still watching me. Waiting. Not pushing. Just… waiting. “I can’t keep doing both,” I said quietly. “No,” he agreed. “You can’t.”