She Chose Herself This Time Novels & Stories

"You thought you could vanish, didn’t you? That no one would come looking for you." "No," she muttered. "I hoped no one would care enough to. Before he could reply, she added "Why'd you choose me?" she asked. Because you're different. Quiet. Calculated. Not like the others they tried to offer me. I chose you." "I’m not a choice. I’m a person."I get to make the decision in my life not you or Gerald. She wrapped her arms around herself. "What do you want from me?" He didn’t answer right away. He simply watched her, as if seeing something beneath her skin.

Not ever again. I was Aria. I was durable. I was choosing. And this time, I was choosing me.

“None, but that’s not the point.” I turn my head forward. “I’m not rejecting him.” “Then he’ll die...again.” He lowered his voice. “You can’t accept it. Your position can’t allow it.” “If you don’t mind. I’ve had people tell me who and what I am my whole life. It’s time I told myself those things. If I want Grey, I will make that choice myself. I don’t need you to make it for me.” I scowled at him.

Left him standing in the hall, hard and furious and breathing like he’d just tasted the edge of something divine—and lost it again. By the time she reached her chamber, her pulse was still a war drum. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, smiling. Because now… now they all knew. She was not the one to be chosen. She was the one who chose. And tonight, she'd chosen herself

The pieces she had already broken down and rebuilt brick by brick. And now, as she stood watching the stars flicker faintly above, she knew one thing: She was done being chosen. From now on, she would choose herself. No matter how messy it got. No matter who tried to drag her back.

"It does not matter. Not to me. Maybe someone was watching. Maybe someone decided I was going to matter to you before I decided it myself. But I am the one standing here now. I am the one who chose to stay. Not because someone prepared me for it. Because I wanted to." She says it simply. Without hesitation. Like it is the easiest truth in the world. And maybe for her it is. She has spent her whole life having decisions made for her by people who thought they knew better. This is her deciding for herself. Out loud. In my kitchen. While I am standing here trying to figure out if I was manipulated into caring about her. "I was not manipulated," I say. She looks at me. "I know." "I chose you." "

Not ever again. I was Aria. I was durable. I was choosing. And this time, I was choosing me.

She was one step closer to the life she had chosen, to the child she would one day hold, to the family she would build on her own terms. Dressing quickly, she paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the small mirror by the door. Her eyes were wide, luminous with emotion, and for the first time, she allowed herself to feel fully present in the gravity of her choice. This was real. She had done it. She had taken the leap. And now, there was nothing left to do but wait and believe.

She remembers choosing me. And this time— She woke up knowing it.

Some wounds heal loud, others whisper their way back to peace. The words looked back at her, raw and honest. She didn’t cross them out. The clock ticked softly beside her. She’d stopped measuring time by absence. Now it was marked by growth a new book read, a plant that didn’t die, laughter that came without effort. She caught her reflection in the window hair tied up, sweater slipping off one shoulder, eyes steady. Not the woman who begged for understanding. Not the one who stayed to be chosen. But the one who finally chose herself.