Inner Decision

Ethan rode his bicycle home alone, the streetlights stretching his shadow long against the pavement.

Scenes from the evening played over and over in his mind—Isabella, standing at the heart of the grand banquet, surrounded by admirers, radiating the grace of a true princess. And he, merely a waiter balancing a tray of wine glasses.

Then there were Henry's words—

"If you truly care for her, then you should know what to do."

Ethan tightened his grip on the handlebars, an unshakable frustration stirring in his chest.

He had thought he wouldn't let those words affect him.

But now, he realized he was wrong.

When he arrived home, he didn't go straight to his room. Instead, he stepped into the living room, where his father sat reading a newspaper, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, a cup of half-cooled black coffee resting on the table beside him.

"Back so late?" Jonathan looked up, frowning slightly.

Ethan didn't answer immediately. He walked over and sat across from his father, silent for a moment before finally speaking.

"Dad… do you think social status really matters that much?"

Jonathan lowered his newspaper and studied his son thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

After a brief pause, Ethan recounted the events of the evening—the way Isabella's family regarded him, Henry's veiled warning, and the doubt creeping into his heart.

"If you truly care for her, then you should know what to do."

As he repeated those words, Ethan clenched his fists, staring at the coffee cup as though searching for an answer within its depths.

Jonathan didn't respond immediately. He took a slow sip of his coffee before speaking in a calm, measured tone.

"Ethan, do you remember the story I once told you?"

Ethan blinked. "Which one?"

His father set his cup down and said evenly, "A long time ago, there was a boy who fell in love with a girl from a wealthy family. Her parents strongly opposed it, telling him that he was nothing—no background, no future—and that he could never give their daughter the happiness she deserved."

Ethan frowned slightly. "And then?"

Jonathan smiled faintly and tapped his fingers on the table. "That boy thought long and hard. In the end, he didn't give up. Instead, he decided to make himself stronger, to become so accomplished that no one could ever question whether he was worthy of her."

Ethan was silent for a moment before asking, "Did he succeed?"

Jonathan nodded. "He did. Through his own hard work, he proved himself, not only winning the girl's heart but also earning the respect of those who once doubted him."

Ethan listened quietly, something shifting inside him.

"Son, the challenges you're facing now—countless others have faced them before," Jonathan said, his voice firm yet gentle. "The real question isn't how others see you. It's how you see yourself."

"If you believe you're not good enough for her, then you never will be."

"But if you're not willing to accept that, then giving up now is far too soon."

Ethan's fists tightened, his wavering resolve slowly hardening into something more resolute.

"You have two choices," Jonathan continued. "You can either walk away and accept reality, or you can stand your ground and push forward, until the day no one has the power to decide for you."

Finishing his words, Jonathan put his glasses back on and added nonchalantly, "It's your choice. Whatever you decide, your mother and I will support you—just make sure it's a choice you won't regret."

Ethan remained silent for a long moment before exhaling deeply and standing up.

"Dad, that was a terrible story," he muttered. "But… I get it."

Jonathan chuckled. "Less talking, more thinking. Now go get some sleep. You've got school tomorrow."

Ethan nodded and headed upstairs.

—

The next morning, Ethan rode his bike to school as usual. On the surface, nothing about him seemed different. But deep inside, everything had changed.

He wouldn't let Henry's words dictate his choices.

Yet, he also understood that who he was now wasn't enough to change anything.

He had to become stronger.

Not just physically, not just academically—but in every possible way.

The only problem was, he didn't yet know where to start.

"Ethan!"

A familiar voice called his name. He turned to see Isabella standing at the school gate, waving at him.

She wore a simple blouse and skirt, nothing like the dazzling elegance of the previous night. And yet, to Ethan, she had never looked more real, more familiar.

"Morning!" Isabella grinned, falling into step beside him as they walked into the school grounds together.

Ethan glanced at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Morning."

"Why didn't you reply to my message last night?" Isabella tilted her head at him.

Ethan blinked. "Did I forget?"

"Yeah!" she huffed. "You sent one reply and then disappeared. I thought something had happened to you."

Ethan let out a small chuckle. "I was just exhausted. Went home and crashed."

Isabella studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright then."

Ethan suddenly felt relieved that she didn't know anything.

Maybe it was better this way.

Even though he had made up his mind, he wasn't ready to tell her.

Not yet.

—

During lunch break, Ethan found himself alone on the basketball court, practicing his shots.

He needed an outlet.

"Thud!"

The ball struck the backboard. He picked it up quickly, his movements growing sharper, sweat soaking through his shirt.

"You good? You look like you just got dumped."

A voice interrupted his focus. Turning, Ethan saw Steve standing at the edge of the court, arms crossed.

Rolling his eyes, Ethan muttered, "Shut up. I didn't get dumped."

"Then why do you look like someone just ran over your dog?" Steve walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. "What happened at that fancy dinner last night?"

Ethan hesitated before finally answering in a low voice. "Her family wants me to stay away from her."

Steve's expression darkened. "You're not actually gonna listen to them, are you?"

Ethan didn't respond.

"Come on, man, you're Ethan Cross." Steve gave him a firm pat on the back. "Since when do you let other people tell you how to live your life?"

Ethan exhaled slowly. "I just… don't want to make things harder for her."

Steve studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "Look, all I'm saying is—don't let someone else decide for you."

Ethan didn't reply. But deep inside, those words took root, anchoring his decision even more firmly than before.