Until You Choose Me

Chapter Seventeen: Just Like A Dream

The car slowed as it crossed the bridge into Bern, the old city rising ahead of them like something preserved inside glass. Stone buildings lined the river. Red rooftops stretched under a pale blue sky. Everything looked deliberate, clean, and almost unreal.

Clara pressed her face lightly against the window. “It doesn’t feel real,” she said. “Like we accidentally drove into a postcard.”

Ethan glanced at her. “That’s Switzerland for you. Very committed to the image.”

She smiled. “It’s… beautiful.”

When the car pulled up in front of the hotel, Clara let out a quiet laugh. “This is where we’re staying?”

“Yes,” Ethan said. “Unless you want to turn around and find something smaller.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know what ‘smaller’ means here.”

The concierge opened the door. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Cole.”

Clara paused for half a second, then stepped out.

Inside, the hotel felt quiet in a way that only expensive places managed to achieve. Soft footsteps, low voices, no chaos, and most importantly, no cameras.

Clara exhaled slowly. “No press.”

“I made sure of it,” Ethan said. “This floor is restricted. No staff enters without clearance.”

She looked at him. “Thank you.”

“I said I would,” he replied simply.

They rode the elevator in silence, and when the doors opened, Clara stopped short.

“Oh,” she said.

The suite stretched wider than her entire apartment back home. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city and the river below. The furniture was modern but warm.

She secretly heaved a sigh of relief when she saw two separate beds.

"I can assure you that I will keep my promise, Clara. You don't have to worry about anything..." Ethan reassures her.

Her shoulders relaxed without her realizing they had been tense. “I appreciate that.”

He nodded. “This is still an agreement. And a partnership. I won’t cross lines you didn’t invite me to cross.”

She walked toward the window. “This place must cost more than my yearly salary.”

Ethan smiled. “Then it’s good you’re not paying for it.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

A knock came at the door.

Room service wheeled in luggage, champagne, and a handwritten welcome note.

Clara picked it up. “They wrote our names.”

“They do that,” Ethan said. “It makes people feel special.”

“Do you?” she asked.

He considered it. “Sometimes. Other times, it just reminds me how visible everything is.”

She turned to him. “Is that why you chose Bern?"

“Yes,” he said. “It’s quiet. People mind their business. And the media doesn’t linger.”

“That means more than you know,” Clara said.

They unpacked slowly. Clara placed her things carefully on one side of the room, almost instinctively claiming her space.

“Dinner?” Ethan asked. “Only if you want.”

“I do,” she said. “But nothing fancy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “In Switzerland?”

“Just… normal,” she clarified. “No candlelit expectations.”

“Normal it is,” he said.

Later that evening, they sat at a small restaurant near the river. No private room. No entourage. Just two people eating quietly.

Clara took a sip of water. “This feels strange.”

“In a bad way?” Ethan asked.

“No,” she said. “In a good way. Like we’re… almost normal."

He smiled. “I’ll take almost.”

She hesitated, then asked, “Does this bother you? Keeping distance?”

“Not if it makes you comfortable,” Ethan replied. “I didn’t marry you to rush you.”

She studied him. “Most people would say that and still expect more.”

“I’m not most people,” he said.

“I’m starting to believe that.”

Back at the hotel, Clara stood by her bed, smoothing the cover.

“This is going to sound odd,” she said, “but I don’t feel alone.”

Ethan loosened his tie. “That’s not odd.”

“It’s just… quiet,” she added. “Not lonely quiet, but I feel safe."

He nodded. “That’s what I wanted this to be.”

She sat on the edge of her bed. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Clara.”

The lights dimmed.

Later, Clara stared at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of the city below.

“You awake?” Ethan asked from his bed.

“Yes,” she said. “Jet lag.”

“Same.”

There was a pause.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For keeping your word,” Clara replied. “For not turning this into something it’s not.”

“I told you,” he said. “Respect isn’t conditional.”

She turned her head slightly, just enough to see him. “You’re making this harder.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know what to do with someone who doesn’t push.”

“That’s not a bad problem to have.”

She smiled in the dark. “No, it's not.”

The next morning, they walked through the old town. Clara stopped every few steps, staring at buildings older than most countries.

“These places matter,” she said. “They survive because people choose to protect them.”

Ethan watched her. “You talk about buildings like they’re people.”

“In a way, they are,” she said. “They hold stories. Without care, they disappear.”

He nodded. “I think that’s why I trust you.”

She glanced at him. “Trust me with what?”

“With the foundation,” he said. “With what matters to you."

They stopped by the river.

Clara folded her arms. “I don’t know what will become of us.”

“I don’t either,” Ethan said. “But we don’t have to define it yet.”

She breathed in the cool air. “I’m glad it’s you.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you listen,” she said. “And you don’t ask for more than I can give.”

“That’s how it should be,” he replied.

That night, back in the suite, Clara stood in the doorway between the beds.

“This arrangement,” she said. “It’s working.”

Ethan smiled. “Good.”

She hesitated. “Maybe one day… it won’t be necessary.”

He didn’t move. “When you say that, not before.”

She nodded. “That feels fair.”

And for now, that was enough.

==========================================

The next day, Clara decided to try skiing, as per Ethan's suggestion...

The mountains looked unreal up close. Clara stood at the base of the slope, staring at the wide stretch of white ahead of her. The snow reflected the sunlight so brightly she had to squint. Skiers moved easily downhill, their movements confident and smooth, as if gravity worked differently for them.

She adjusted her gloves for the third time.

“I feel like this is a bad idea,” she said.

Ethan clipped his skis into place beside her. “That’s normal. Everyone feels like that the first time.”

“Everyone who survives,” Clara replied.

He smiled. “I promise you’ll survive.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s honest.”

She looked down at her skis. “I don’t understand how people don’t fall.”

“They do,” Ethan said. “They just learn how to fall properly.”

She glanced at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” he admitted. “But mostly, I’m enjoying that you agreed to try.”

Clara exhaled slowly. “Only because you said you’d teach me.”

“I will,” he said. “Step by step. And we’ll stop whenever you want.”

She nodded. “Okay. But if I break something, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll accept full responsibility.”

They moved to a flatter area. Ethan stood in front of her, close enough to guide her but not touching.

“First,” he said, “bend your knees a little. You don’t want to lock them.”

Clara tried. “Like this?”

“Just a bit more,” he said.

He reached out, then stopped himself, hovering his hand near her knee.

“May I?” he asked.

She noticed the pause. The question.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

His fingers adjusted her stance gently, briefly. Then he pulled back.

Clara felt the absence more than the touch.

“Okay,” Ethan continued. “Your weight should be centered. Not too far forward, not leaning back.”

“I already feel like I’m leaning toward disaster.”

“That’s just your brain panicking,” he said. “Your body is fine.”

She laughed nervously. “Easy for you to say.”

He moved to her side. “I’m going to stay close, but I won’t hold you unless you ask.”

She looked at him. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll help you up,” he replied. “But I won’t grab you unless you’re about to crash into someone.”

“That’s very specific.”

“I’ve learned to be clear.”

She pushed off slowly.

Immediately, she wobbled.

“Ethan,” she said.

“I’m here,” he replied calmly.

She lost balance and dropped into the snow with a soft thud.

Clara lay there, staring at the sky.

“I hate this,” she said flatly.

Ethan crouched beside her, smiling. “You did great.”

“But I still fell.” replied Clara.

“You can try again... But first,” he said. “May I help you up?" smilingly asked her.

“Yes,” Clara shyly smiled back.

Ethan offered his hand, firm but careful. He didn’t pull too hard. He adjusted his grip when she shifted her weight, making sure she was steady before letting go.

They tried again, and this time, she stayed upright for five seconds longer.

“See, there's progress!” Ethan said.

“I’m still terrified.” Clara said in return.

“That doesn’t go away immediately,” he replied. “You just learn to move anyway.”

They practiced turning, stopping, starting again. Each time Clara lost balance, Ethan stayed close but never crowded her.

When she leaned too far forward, he placed a hand lightly on her back—only after asking.

“Is it okay if I guide you?”

“Yes,” she said.

His touch was brief, precise. He stepped back as soon as she adjusted.

Clara noticed everything.

How he never assumed. How he always waited. How he treated her like someone whose boundaries mattered even in small moments.

After a few moments, Ethan and Clara took a break at a small lodge halfway down the slope.

Clara collapsed onto a bench. “My legs are going to hate me tomorrow.”

Ethan handed her a cup of hot chocolate. “That’s normal.”

“You say that a lot.”

“Because it’s true.”

She took a sip. “You’re good at this."

“Skiing?” asked Ethan.

“Teaching,” Clara stated.

He shrugged. “I learned patience the hard way.”

Clara studied him. “From what?”

“From being told ‘no’ a lot,” he replied honestly. “And learning not to take it as rejection.”

She looked away. “That’s… useful.”

They went back out after the break. This time, Clara made it halfway down the beginner slope without falling.

“I’m doing it,” she said, disbelief in her voice.

“Yes, you are,” Ethan said, skiing slightly behind her.

“I don’t trust myself.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I trust you."

She wobbled again.

“Ethan—”

“I’ve got you,” he said.

He placed a hand on her arm, steady but light. Not pulling her closer. Just anchoring her long enough for her to regain balance.

When she did, he let go immediately, and Clara felt a strange tightness in her chest. They finally reached the bottom, which made Clara laughed, while breathless...

“I didn’t die.”

“You exceeded expectations,” Ethan agreed.

She looked at him. “You were very careful.”

He met her gaze. “I wanted you to feel safe.”

“I did,” she said quietly.

They rode the lift back up in silence. Clara watched the snow-covered trees pass below.

“You know,” she said, “most people would’ve held onto me the whole time.”

“I know,” Ethan replied.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because this is your experience,” he said. “Not mine to control.”

She nodded slowly. “I noticed.”

He looked at her, surprised. “You did?”

“Yes,” she said. “Everything.”

They finished skiing as the sun dipped lower. Clara was exhausted but smiling.

Back at the hotel, she sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her calves.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she said.

“You did more than you thought you could,” Ethan replied.

She hesitated. “You could’ve taken advantage of moments today.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said simply.

“I know,” she said. “That’s why it matters.”

He didn’t respond right away.

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me something,” he said finally.

“I don’t,” Clara replied. “But I’m aware of effort when I see it.”

She looked at him. “You’re trying very hard.”

“Yes,” he said. “Not to rush. Not to assume.”

She smiled softly. “That’s new for me.”

He stood. “Dinner?”

“Only if it’s warm,” she said. “And close.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

Later that night, Clara lay in bed, staring at the ceiling again.

“You asleep?” she asked.

“No,” Ethan said.

“Thank you for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to,” she replied. “For being careful with me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ll always be.”

She turned onto her side, facing the space between the beds.

For the first time, the distance didn’t feel like a rule.