I Choose You 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.

Frowning, I said in a calm tone, "It's just trash at this point. Why shouldn't I throw it away?" Iris' chest heaved, her eyes filled with hurt and fury. She lifted a foot and stomped on the protective amulet, grinding it under her heel. Then, she sneered and said mockingly, "Adrian, you're so spoiled that you're basically heartless now! What an ingrate! No wonder Sophie would choose Will over you. You—"

My daughter Amy was born prematurely, so she was placed in an incubator the moment she came into the world. Right then, Harold Soulman handed me divorce papers. I had just made it back from the brink of death, and even the slightest movement tugged at the wound on my body. Now that I had been reborn on this very day, it was clear that fate was giving me a second chance to choose differently. "Fine, I'll sign the divorce—but only after the birth certificate is issued. And I want compensation."

"And I'll love you whether you bond with me or not. Whether you stay or go. Whether you choose me or choose yourself." "I choose both," she says. Her voice breaks but her eyes are steady. "I choose me. And I choose you. That's what I've been trying to figure out. How to keep myself and have you too. And I think the answer is that the right person doesn't ask you to give yourself up. They just stand beside you while you figure out who you are." "Is that a yes?" "That's an absolutely." I kiss her. Not gentle. Not tentative. Not the careful almost-touches we've been dancing around for weeks.

Finally, I started writing. *I choose you. Not because fate decided we were mates, not because the bond pulled us together. I choose you because you showed me what it means to be brave. You hurt me, and then you spent every day proving you'd changed. You let me be strong even when you wanted to protect me. You support my dreams even when they scare you. I choose you, Skyler Voss. Every day, with my whole heart.* I looked up to find Skyler still writing, his brow furrowed in concentration. Elder Thomas caught my eye and smiled knowingly.

"I think you're the chosen one for me." What?

“ I love you too” ***

“Choose, Ava.” “What version of me do you want to live?”

I looked at Isabella, forcing the words out in my throat. "I choose you."

“That I had to earn it through resilience, through sacrifice.” I shake my head slightly. “You showed me that love is not a reward,” I say. “It is a decision.” His fingers tighten around mine. “I choose you,” I whisper. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just true. “I choose you in the quiet mornings and the chaotic nights. I choose you in arguments and in laughter. I choose you when we are strong and when we are afraid.” My breath trembles. “And if I ever forget who I am again,” I add softly, “I know you will remind me.”