I Can T Choose Novels & Stories

"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.

No alternative. Only the choice. And whatever I decide— One version of this world— Will not survive.

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.

And I do not know if I am strong enough to choose the world over my own heart. Not yet. Not tonight.

I made a choice. I just didn’t say it.

No one answer⁠ed. ‍I tu‍rned to⁠ face them. "You want me willing? You kee​p saying yo‌u need me to c‌hoos​e th‌is. To coo‍perate.‌ But how am I suppose‌d to choose anything when I⁠ don't⁠ ev​en know⁠ what I'm c⁠hoosing?​"​ ‍ "Some things take ti‌me to expl‍a‌in,‍" C‌aelan said.

I just couldn't do a thing . #TBC

Not again! "I can't. I..." He hung up. Do I ever have a choice?!

I can’t undo what I’ve just asked, and I don’t even know if it’s the right choice. What am I doing? I’ve always prided myself on knowing what’s best for me, for others, but right now, I f*e; completely lost. I can’t believe I’m even considering this. I’m supposed to be stronger than this. But the truth is, I’m not. I’m weak. And it hurts to admit that. The message is still sitting there, waiting for me to decide, waiting for me to make a choice I’m not ready for. But I have to. I have to choose something. Don’t I?

There is no one strong or wise or brave enough. There is only me, as flawed as I am. And another impossible choice. I can’t hurt her. And I can’t let her go.