He Thought I’d Come Crawling Back—But I Chose a Man Who Treasures Me

The air in the grand banquet hall thrummed with the clinking of crystal and the murmur of elite voices as the Carter family gathered to celebrate Grandmother Eleanor’s birthday. At twenty-two, I, Lila Carter, stood amid the opulence, my heart a battlefield of past and present. Grandmother, frail yet regal, wheeled into the room on her chair, her eyes seeking me out. Mason, her loyal attendant, beckoned me forward. I knelt beside her, the weight of her gaze settling on me like a gentle command.

“All the young ones from the Bennett family are here, Lila,” she said, her voice a whisper of strength. “See if there’s someone you like.” Her gnarled hand gestured toward the crowd, where two figures stood apart. My eyes first landed on Ethan Bennett—tall, impeccably dressed, his aura as cold and unyielding as a marble statue. Then they shifted to Noah Bennett, locked in a comical tussle with a small boy over a lollipop, his boyish grin a stark contrast to Ethan’s aloofness. Without hesitation, I pointed at Noah.

The room fell into a stunned silence, a ripple of shock breaking the festive hum. Ethan’s head snapped up, his icy gaze piercing me, though his eyes had been closed moments before. In my past life, I had chosen Ethan, chasing him with a fervor that bordered on obsession. For decades, I’d poured my soul into melting his frozen heart, only to be met with disdain. He’d married me out of duty to Grandmother, resenting every moment, flaunting another woman to wound me. My pleas for divorce were met with refusal, and we spiraled into a bitter dance until death claimed me. Reborn into this second chance, I vowed to escape that torment.

Grandmother’s health was failing—her days numbered—and this arranged marriage was her final wish, a legacy from my late grandfather. The Bennett family, indebted to the Carters, deferred to her will. My relentless pursuit of Ethan had been an open secret, my daily meals delivered to his office a testament to my unrequited love. Yet he’d never acknowledged me, and the family had shielded Grandmother from my folly, fearing her fragile state. Now, her smile as I chose Noah was the first genuine joy I’d seen in months.

“Do you agree, Noah?” I asked, my voice steady despite the sweat beading on my forehead. Noah, caught mid-argument, froze, the lollipop flying into his hand as the boy wailed. His awkward attempt to hush the child drew a derisive laugh from Ethan, whose contempt hung heavy in the air. Ignoring him, I pressed Noah. After a tense pause, he nodded, and relief washed over me. This choice was for Grandmother’s peace, not my heart.

That night, as Grandmother laughed—a rare sound since her illness confined her to bed—I pulled Noah aside. “Thank you for helping me. Once she’s gone, we can end this,” I began, but he raised a hand.

“Stay here. Wait for me,” he said, dashing off to the Bennett estate. He returned with a box, spilling forth certificates, a property deed, car keys, and a bank card. “I majored in computer science. These are my awards. I’ve earned this—games I developed with friends. The apartment’s in the city center, the cars are yours to use, and there’s a million in the account. I’ll earn more. Don’t feel pressured,” he stammered, thrusting the box into my arms.

I murmured, “I thought you wouldn’t agree,” my emotions a tangled mess.

“I’m happy you chose me,” Noah replied, his gaze earnest. “No guilt, no thanks. And don’t end it after she passes.” Before I could respond, he bolted, leaving me with his trust—and a key to his home.

A shadow fell over me. Ethan loomed, his smirk cutting. “Playing hard to get, Lila? You think choosing Noah gets my attention? Last night, you braved rain to bring me dinner, left notes for Ted, and now this—reverse psychology?”

His words stung, echoing my past life’s desperation. “You don’t like me. Shouldn’t you be glad I’ve stopped?” I countered. He hesitated, then sneered, “I don’t care. I just can’t lose to Noah—a nobody from that branch.” Ethan’s disdain stemmed from their family divide: he, the prodigal heir of the main line, versus Noah, the outcast who chose coding over legacy, shunned by elders.

“I don’t like you anymore,” I declared. “This has nothing to do with you. We’re done.” I turned, but Ethan grabbed my wrist. “I don’t believe you,” he hissed, his grip tightening as memories flooded me—of him diving into a frozen pond to retrieve a necklace I’d tossed, nearly dying for me. In his eyes, our marriage was a chain I’d forged. I yanked free, fleeing to my room, the door a barrier against my past.

The next morning, Noah awaited in a sleek suit. “Grandmother wants us to move in together,” he said, blushing. I recalled my past—Ethan and I given a house, our cold cohabitation a prelude to misery. Hesitant, I suggested Noah’s other place, citing an “allergy” to osmanthus. His panic was endearing as he whisked me to his pink-decorated home—my secret joy, suppressed by Ethan’s disdain for the color. Noah offered me his room, his shy kindness a balm.

Days later, Grandmother’s passing loomed. We rushed to her bedside, her hands joining ours with a plea to care for each other. I nodded, knowing I’d break that promise—Noah deserved true love, not obligation. Her funeral was swift, Ethan absent on a business trip. I planned to move out, but a dizzy spell felled me. Noah tended me through days of fever, his care a revelation after Ethan’s neglect. Recovering, I resolved to thank him, but a storm rekindled my buried fear. Noah’s gentle hands and music soothed me, stirring emotions I’d sworn to bury.

“I’m moving out,” I told him. He nodded, silent. In my new apartment, pink walls mocked an emptiness. Months later, Ethan appeared, softer after abroad. “I’m sorry about Grandmother. Can we be friends?” he asked. I refused, but his presence unsettled me. Noah appeared, misreading my distance. “I thought you still loved him,” he confessed. I clarified, “I don’t. Never again.” That night, at his home, I felt a warmth missing from mine.

Two years later, I accepted Noah’s proposal. Mid-ceremony, Ethan’s parents fled—his suicide attempt thwarted. He left abroad, later sending an anonymous “I’m sorry” on the day I’d died before. With Noah, I built a life of choice, not chains, the whispers of my past dawn fading into a radiant future.