Here’s a story title using exactly 128 characters:"My Best Choice: The Midnight Decision That Changed Everything and Unlocked a

Great — here is Chapter One of "My Best Choice", approximately 1,200 words long. Let’s begin Sarah’s story.My Best ChoiceChapter One: The Wind in RindaleThe wind in Rindale always carried secrets. It swept through the golden fields with a whisper, stirring the tall grass as if it were trying to say something that no one could quite understand. Sarah often thought that if she just listened hard enough, the wind might tell her what to do.She stood at the edge of the fields, the hem of her faded green skirt brushing against her ankles. The letter in her hand trembled—not from the breeze, but from the weight of what it meant.The royal seal was unmistakable. A smooth golden emblem of the Crowned Owl—the symbol of Liora University in the capital city of Eldhallow. The most prestigious academy in all of the kingdom. And it was addressed to her.“Miss Sarah Ellanor, you have been accepted to the Class of Scholars at Liora University, commencing this coming autumn.”Accepted. Full scholarship. Housing. Books. Everything.She had earned it.She had studied by candlelight, woken before dawn to gather herbs for the village apothecary just to save a few coppers for parchment and ink. She had passed the Royal Exam when most village girls her age were being married off or preparing for harvest season. She deserved this.But standing there, letter in hand, she felt no joy. Only guilt.“Sarah! Are you going to stand there all day?” a voice called from behind. It was Thomas, her younger brother, barely twelve but already tall for his age and always coated in a layer of dust.Sarah turned. “Just needed a minute.”“You’re always needing a minute,” he said, walking up beside her. “Is that the letter from the capital?”She folded it quickly and slid it into the pocket of her apron. “It doesn’t matter.”Thomas frowned. “But you’ve been waiting for it for months.”“I said it doesn’t matter.”She started walking back toward the cottage before he could say anything else. The path wound between the fields and past the old orchard, where apples were beginning to ripen. Their small stone cottage sat nestled between two hills, its roof mossy and its chimney crooked, but it was home. Their mother sat outside on a wooden stool, peeling potatoes, her fingers stained from hours of working the soil.“You got it, didn’t you?” her mother asked, not looking up.Sarah hesitated. “I did.”“And?”“I got in. Full ride.”A long silence passed. Her mother stopped peeling. “That’s… that’s good.”“It’s not,” Sarah whispered. “I can’t go. Not now.”Her mother looked at her then—really looked. Her eyes, always tired, held both pride and sadness. “Sarah…”“We don’t have anyone else. You can’t work the fields alone. Thomas still needs schooling. The animals—”“We will survive.”“You say that, but we both know—”“I said we will survive.” Her mother’s voice was firm now, the kind of voice Sarah had heard only a few times before—when their father died in the mines, when the crops failed two winters ago, and when Sarah had almost drowned trying to cross the river during the spring floods.“You’ve worked too hard to throw it away.”Sarah felt her throat tighten. “Maybe… maybe it’s not the right time. Maybe next year—”“There might not be a next year,” her mother said, standing up slowly. “Opportunities like this don’t wait. And you… you weren’t born to be a farmer, Sarah.”Sarah looked down at her hands—calloused, dirt beneath the nails, fingers rough from years of toil. “But I was raised to be one.”Her mother reached out, cupping her cheek. “You were raised to survive. But maybe it’s time you started living.”That night, as the stars blinked into view above the quiet hills, Sarah sat alone under the old willow tree behind their house. The air was thick with the scent of summer—ripe fruit, dry grass, and distant smoke from someone’s cooking fire.She traced the lines of the acceptance letter with her finger.Eldhallow. The shining capital. A place of knowledge, magic, and wonder. A place where dreams were forged like steel in the Royal Forges. She had seen sketches of it in borrowed books—gleaming towers, floating lanterns, skyships that sailed like birds.And then… there was Daren.She hadn’t let herself think about him—not lately. But it was impossible to ignore that he was part of the decision. He was training to be a Knight of the Flameguard, stationed just outside Eldhallow. They had grown up side by side, stolen glances during harvest festivals, whispered secrets beneath starlight. He had kissed her once—on the last day before he left to train.They had written letters for months, until one day his stopped coming.She told herself it didn’t matter. That he had moved on. That she needed to, too.But if she went to Eldhallow, she might see him again. Or she might never see her family again.She leaned her head back against the bark of the willow and closed her eyes. The wind picked up again, brushing the leave