The Burden Of Choices

Ella knocked softly on the door, her heart still racing from the events of the day. Her cousin, Grace, answered, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected visitors.

"Come inside," Grace said, stepping aside to let them in.

Ella hesitated as she walked in, feeling the heat of Marcus's gaze on her. She avoided looking at him, but her flushed cheeks betrayed the memory of his touch during the car ride. Marcus, however, remained silent, his expression unreadable as he observed her.

Grace, sensing the tension, quickly busied herself making coffee before retreating to help Ella's mother, Maddy, change clothes.

After finishing their coffee, they entered Maddy's room. The oldl woman lay in bed, her features delicate but weary. Marcus took in her appearance, realization dawning in his mind.

"She's Korean," he thought. "No wonder Ella has such beautiful eyes."

Maddy greeted them warmly, despite the exhaustion evident in her voice. They spoke for a while, exchanging pleasantries before it was time to leave.

As they stepped out of the house, Marcus felt a heavy weight pressing on his chest. His thoughts were a tangled mess—worry about his grandfather's reaction to what he did to Celine, the looming business crisis, and the unexpected ache of knowing he wouldn't see Ella for two months.

His phone suddenly rang, shattering his thoughts.

"Oh, man," he muttered, seeing his grandfather's name flash on the screen. A deep sigh escaped his lips before he answered.

"Marcus! What have you done? Are you out of your mind?!" Arthur's voice thundered through the phone. "Milo called me—furious! He wants to cut all partnerships between Jones Enterprises and Belaycon! Do you have any idea what this means? Thousands of people will lose their jobs tomorrow because of your recklessness!"

Marcus remained silent, his hand sweating.

"I'm so disappointed in you… Argh! My chest— I can't breathe!" Arthur suddenly gasped, his voice breaking into strained breaths.

The call ended abruptly.

Marcus's blood ran cold.

"Carlos! Drive to Grandfather's mansion—NOW!" he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

The car sped through the streets, the tension thick inside the vehicle. The moment they arrived, Marcus went fast inside, his heart was beating so fast as he pushed open the doors to his grandfather's room.

A surge of relief washed over him when he saw Doctor Brandon standing by the bedside.

"How is he?" Marcus asked, his voice raw with concern.

Doctor Brandon adjusted his glasses before responding. "As of now, he's stable. The stress triggered his heart condition, but he should be fine if he avoids overexertion and stress."

Marcus exhaled deeply, the tension in his body loosening just a fraction.

He was not aware his grandfather paid Doctor Brandon to fabricate details about his condition. And worse, it wasn't Milo from Belaycon who had called him earlier.

It was Celine. It's blackmail. 

She had orchestrated the entire call to deceive Arthur, to manipulate him and asking him to make Marcus surrender to his grandfather's demands.

As Marcus sat beside his grandfather, a storm of emotions swirled within him.

"Grandpa, I'm sorry. I never meant for things to spiral like this," he admitted, his voice laced with guilt.

Arthur, however, played his role perfectly, his voice feeble yet insistent.

"Marcus, I beg you to think about the thousands of people who will lose their jobs if you don't fix this. You need to reconsider your decision."

Marcus clenched his fists, his heart at war with itself. He knew his grandfather's words were a calculated move, yet the weight of responsibility bore down on him like an anchor.

Arthur, watching his grandson's conflicted expression, felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction. He had always been skilled at steering people where he wanted them. Even if it meant manipulating Marcus.

The moment of tension was broken when the doors burst open.

"Dad! Oh, Dad!" Aya's panicked voice filled the room as she rushed inside. "What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

Arthur sighed, his voice carefully laced with weariness. "I'm fine now. But you need to talk to your son—he's ruining everything."

Aya turned to Marcus, confusion etched on her face. "What did he do?"

Arthur's expression darkened. "He and Celine broke up because of your maid."

Aya's face twisted with fury.

Marcus, who had remained silent until now, lifted his chin defiantly.

"I don't care if Ella's a maid or not. I don't love Celine," he said firmly.

Aya snapped.

"Shut up!" she spat, her voice trembling with anger. "Is that woman more important than your grandfather's health? Than this family's legacy?"

Marcus flinched, her words slicing into him.

The weight of expectations, of duty, of a life not entirely his own— it was suffocating.

His gaze dropped to his grandfather's frail hands, his fingers trembling slightly with age.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa," Marcus whispered, his voice laced with exhaustion. He took his grandfather's hand, massaging it absentmindedly, searching for answers he wasn't sure existed.

After a long silence, he excused himself and stepped outside.

The night air was cool against his skin, but it did little to soothe the chaos inside him.

His hands curled into fists as he let out a deep, shuddering breath.

"Why… Why do I have to bear this?"

Two conflicting paths stretched before him.

If I defy Grandpa, what will happen? Will he survive the shock? Will thousands really lose their jobs?

Marcus pressed his fingers against his throbbing temple.

But if I marry Celine, will I regret it? Will I ever love her?

His head ached with the weight of uncertainty.

"Ouch," he muttered, gripping his forehead.

His chest tightened with frustration.

What should I do?

For the first time in his life, Marcus, the man who always had control, felt utterly lost.

Marcus sat in his car, holding the steering wheel with frustration. His grandfather's words echoed in his mind like a relentless drumbeat. "Marcus, after one month, you must marry her." He exhaled sharply, staring at the empty road ahead.

Why does it have to be this way? Why do I have to sacrifice my happiness?

Feeling lost, he pulled out his phone and dialed his cousin Felix.

"Hey, cousin! Sounds like you've got something on your mind," Felix answered in a relaxed tone. "Want to grab a drink tonight?"

Marcus didn't hesitate. "Yeah, I need to clear my head."

Later that evening, the two cousins sat in a dimly lit bar, whiskey glasses in hand. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and muted jazz music playing in the background.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight with frustration. "Felix, if you were in my shoes, would you marry a woman just to secure the CEO position?"

Felix smirked, swirling his drink. "I'd probably just cross that bridge when I get to it."

"This isn't a joke, Felix. This is my life we're talking about," Marcus said, his voice edged with desperation.

Felix leaned back, considering. "Well, it's not like you'll be stuck forever. Divorce exists, you know."

Marcus scowled. "That's not how I see marriage. If I marry, it's for life."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "You're old-fashioned. We're wealthy. You could marry Celine and still keep the woman you love as your mistress."

Marcus shot him a glare, his fists clenching.

Felix quickly raised his hands. "Relax, man! I was just messing with you." His tone softened. "Look, I get it. It's tough. But honestly? Follow your heart. If you don't love Celine, don't do it."

Marcus sighed heavily. "Grandpa doesn't understand. I visited him today, and he begged me to marry her."

Felix's playful demeanor faded. "Damn… that's rough. I wish I had an answer for you, cousin."

They continued drinking in silence, both lost in thought. 

That night, Marcus slept with his mind messy.

One morning a persistent knock at the door startled Ella. She rushed to open it, surprised to see Marcus standing there, dressed casually, a grocery bag in his hand.

"Sir? What brings you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I came to learn how to cook Shifu noodles," Marcus said with a grin.

Ella folded her arms, skeptical. "You? Cook?"

"I bought all the ingredients. I have a hangover, and I need something comforting," he admitted, stepping inside.

She tilted her head. "Irish is back at the mansion. Why not have her cook it?"

"She's not there yet," Marcus said quickly. "Besides, I had a meeting nearby and thought I'd drop by."

Ella looked at him like she believed what he said."Okay then let's start".

She guided him through the cooking process. Though clumsy, Marcus tried his best, and soon the rich aroma of broth and spices filled the kitchen.

As they sat down to eat, Marcus savored the warm, flavorful noodles. "This is amazing," he admitted, looking at her with admiration.

Ella beamed. "See? You're not hopeless after all."

After finishing, Marcus stood to clear the table.

"Just leave it," Ella said. "My cousin will wash them later."

"No, I'll do it," Marcus insisted, taking the dishes.

Ella reached out to take them from him, but their hands brushed, sending an unexpected jolt through both of them. Their eyes met, locking in an intense moment neither could escape.

Feeling flustered, Ella quickly pulled away. "Fine, but don't deduct it from my salary," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Marcus chuckled, finishing up before grabbing his phone. His expression darkened as he saw the caller ID.

"Grandpa…" he murmured before answering.

"Marcus," Arthur's voice was firm. "Have you spoken to Celine? It's time to start planning the wedding."

Marcus felt the familiar stress again . "Grandpa, can we wait a little longer? Just one month."

Arthur sighed but relented. "Fine. But after one month, you will marry her."

Marcus lowered the phone, his heart sinking.

Over the following days, he avoided talking to Celine. Instead, he kept visiting Ella, bringing her small gifts—flowers, chocolates, anything to see her smile. Their connection deepened, but neither dared to voice their feelings.

After a month later.

Arthur stormed into Marcus's office, slamming his cane against the desk.

"Marcus, enough delays! When will you speak to Celine?"

Marcus took a deep breath, standing his ground. "Grandpa, I can't marry her. I'm in love with someone else."

Arthur's face darkened. "Who? That maid?"

Marcus stiffened.

Arthur scoffed. "And what can she offer? Can she run a business? Can she hold power? Think, boy!"

Before Marcus could respond, Arthur suddenly clutched his chest, gasping. His eyes widened in pain as his legs gave out beneath him.

"Grandpa!" Marcus lunged forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

"Call an ambulance!" he shouted.

Minutes later, Arthur was rushed into surgery. Marcus sat outside the operating room, his body trembling.

His mother, Aya, and Uncle Ben arrived, their faces etched with worry.

"Marcus! What happened?" Aya asked.

Marcus swallowed hard. "Mom, he collapsed… he had a heart attack."

Aya's hands covered her mouth in horror. She turned to her son, eyes pleading. "Marcus… if you marry Celine, you can learn to love her. But if your grandfather dies, we can't bring him back—not even with all the money in the world."

Her words struck him like a knife to the chest.

What if she's right?

His mind swirled with torment.

Maybe… maybe Celine was meant for him.

Maybe he had to forget Ella.

Marcus clenched his fists, his heart breaking. But for his grandfather's sake… he had to do it.

He had to marry Celine.