Chapter 34: This Is What Choosing Looks Like

Choosing someone wasn't a single moment.

Not a ring. Not a kiss. Not even a promise.

It was setting your alarm fifteen minutes earlier because they liked eating breakfast together.

It was texting "home late" during meetings, not out of obligation—but respect.

It was changing for someone without losing yourself.

Eliza Darcy had never believed in bending.

Not for shareholders.

Not for lovers.

Not even for time itself.

But lately, she was… tilting. In small ways.

Choosing them over everything.

Like when she turned down a last-minute investor dinner to watch Will speak at a panel for urban youth development.

Or when she stood at the back of a crowded lecture hall, unannounced, while he talked about equitable infrastructure like it could save the world.

He caught sight of her in the back.

Didn't falter.

But his smile changed.

And later that night, when she told him, "You were incredible," he pulled her into his arms and whispered, "You showing up meant more than the applause."

A week later, it was Will's turn.

Eliza had been invited to speak at a private alumni event — a legacy function at her old prep school in Connecticut.

She hadn't wanted to go.

The place reeked of the past: icy stares, sharp-edged expectations, polished perfection hiding cold indifference.

But Will said, "I'll be there. If you want me."

So she said yes.

And when she stepped into that ballroom in her steel-gray dress, with Will in tailored navy beside her, she didn't feel like a girl proving herself anymore.

She felt like a woman reclaiming the room.

They made polite conversation. Nodded to old professors. Endured a headmistress who smiled too tightly and said, "You've changed so much, Miss Darcy."

Eliza answered without blinking, "Yes. I have."

And when they were alone on the stone balcony after the speeches, Will wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You didn't let them shrink you," he murmured.

She leaned into his chest. "Not this time."

"Proud of you."

She turned, curling her fingers around his lapel. "Thank you. For seeing me."

Later, in the car ride home, her heels off, her hand resting on his thigh, she murmured, "I hated that place."

"I know."

"But I didn't hate going there tonight."

He glanced at her.

She was staring out the window, the city glittering in the distance.

"You made it feel like it wasn't just about who I used to be."

"It's never about who you used to be," he said softly. "It's about who you are when you're with me."

That night, they fell asleep tangled in each other.

And as Eliza drifted off, fingers resting against Will's bare chest, she realized something.

Love wasn't loud.

It didn't need declarations or drama.

It just needed to be chosen.

Every morning.

Every moment.

Even when no one else saw.

Especially then.