Until You Choose Me

Chapter Eighteen: The Terms and Conditions

The snow had melted into slush by the time they returned to Bern that evening. Clara sat by the window of the suite, legs tucked beneath her, watching the city lights flicker on one by one. The honeymoon was nearing its end, and for the first time since they arrived, her thoughts were no longer focused on where they were—but on where they were going next.

Ethan stood near the table, reviewing something on his tablet. He looked up when he noticed her silence.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said.

Clara nodded. “I was thinking about New York.”

“That makes two of us,” Ethan replied. “We should probably talk about what happens when we’re back.”

She turned toward him. “Yes. I think we should.”

He set the tablet aside and took a seat across from her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “I want you to know this first,” he said. “Whatever you decide, I’ll follow your lead. No questions.”

She blinked. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I trust you,” he answered simply.

Clara exhaled slowly. “Alright. Then I’ll be honest."

“Please,” Ethan said.

“When we go back,” she began, “I want things to be clear. For both of us. No confusion. No assumptions.”

“I agree,” he said.

She straightened her posture. “First, public behavior. There will be no public displays of affection.”

Ethan nodded. “Understood.”

She continued, “Except for holding hands. That’s acceptable. It looks appropriate, and it keeps speculation from getting worse.”

“That’s reasonable,” he said.

“No kissing for cameras. No gestures meant to sell a story,” Clara added. “I don’t want our marriage turned into a performance.”

“It won’t be,” Ethan replied. “I won’t let it.”

She studied his face, then went on. “Second, my work doesn’t change. I will continue running the Monroe Cultural Foundation. My schedule, my priorities, my decisions—those stay mine.”

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” Ethan said. “Your work is part of who you are.”

“And I don’t want anyone thinking I married you to be absorbed into your world,” she added.

He met her gaze. “No one will.”

Clara hesitated before saying the next part. “Third… living arrangements.”

Ethan waited.

“We’ll live in the same place,” she said. “That’s unavoidable. But we’ll have separate rooms.”

He nodded immediately. “Done.”

“No shared bedroom. No expectations,” she said firmly. “We’re married on paper, but our personal space stays intact.”

“I respect that,” Ethan replied. “You don’t have to justify it.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Good."

There was a pause.

Ethan cleared his throat. “May I ask for something as well?”

Clara looked at him. “Go ahead.”

“There will be times,” he said carefully, “when my company requires appearances. Events, board dinners, international functions. Situations where my wife being present matters.”

She considered that. “You want me there as support.”

“Yes,” he said. “Not as decoration. But as my partner. When it’s necessary.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”

“I won’t ask often,” Ethan added. “And when I do, I’ll tell you why.”

“I appreciate that,” Clara said. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with the foundation.”

“It won’t,” he promised.

She leaned back slightly. “Anything else?”

He thought for a moment. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“If you ever feel uncomfortable,” Ethan said, “I want you to say it. Immediately. No worrying about optics or consequences.”

Clara’s expression softened. “I can do that.”

Silence settled between them—not tense, but thoughtful.

“So,” Clara said finally, “these are the rules.”

Ethan smiled faintly. “They sound more like boundaries.”

“Call them what you want,” she replied. “They’re necessary.”

“I agree,” he said. “And I accept all of them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Without negotiation?"

“Yes.”

“That was easier than I expected.”

“I told you,” Ethan said. “I’ll follow your plan.”

She studied him again, as if trying to find the catch.

“Why?” she asked quietly.

“Because,” he replied, “this marriage works only if you don’t feel trapped.”

Her gaze dropped for a moment. “Thank you.”

They sat there, the deal between them finally spoken aloud.

“So,” Ethan said lightly, “we’re officially a married couple with a contract.”

Clara almost smiled. “A very detailed one.”

“I’ll have my lawyer proud,” he joked.

She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

He laughed softly. “I won’t.”

She stood and walked toward her side of the room. “I feel better.”

“Me too,” he said.

She paused. “This doesn’t mean things can’t change.”

“I know,” Ethan replied. “But only if you want them to.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Later that night, Clara lay in bed, scrolling through messages on her phone. One from her foundation team caught her attention.

“We’ll be ready when you’re back,” the message read.

She smiled faintly.

Across the room, Ethan spoke softly. “Clara?”

“Yes?”

“When we get back,” he said, “I’ll make sure the house is adjusted. Separate rooms.

Your office space. Whatever you need.”

“That’s thoughtful,” she said.

“I want it to feel like your home too,” he added.

She turned her head slightly. “It will. Eventually... Goodnight, Ethan,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he replied.

The next morning, as they packed, Clara felt something unfamiliar. It was not excitement, not fear, but security coming from Ethan...

At the airport, as they waited to board, Ethan glanced at her. “One last question.”

She looked up. “What is it?”

“Are you okay with holding hands?” he asked.

She paused, then extended her hand. “Yes. That’s within the rules."

Ethan took her hand gently, and for now, that was enough.

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

New York greeted them with noise.

The car moved slowly through traffic, surrounded by horns, sirens, and flashing lights. Clara leaned back against the seat, watching familiar streets pass by. The clean quiet of Bern already felt far away.

“Welcome home,” Ethan said lightly.

Clara nodded. “It feels… louder.”

He smiled. “It always is.”

When the car finally pulled into the underground garage of the penthouse building, Clara straightened. The structure rose above them in glass and steel, sharp and impressive. It looked exactly like something Ethan Cole would own.

The elevator ride was silent.

When the doors opened, Clara stopped.

The penthouse stretched wide and open, all high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. The city skyline filled the view like a living mural. Everything looked expensive, intentional, and untouched.

“This is…” Clara trailed off.

“Big,” Ethan supplied.

“Yes,” she said. “That.”

A phone vibrated in Ethan’s pocket.

He glanced at the screen and frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” Clara asked.

“The board,” he said. “Emergency meeting.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Now?”

“Apparently,” he replied. “They just moved the time.”

He hesitated, then looked at her. “I didn’t expect this.”

“It’s fine,” Clara said quickly. “I understand.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ethan said. “I promise.”

He stepped closer. “Are you okay being here?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“If you need anything—”

“I’ll manage,” she said.

He paused, then apologized softly. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted our first day back to go.”

“I know,” Clara replied. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan gave her a brief, careful squeeze of the hand before turning toward the door.

When it closed behind him, the silence settled in immediately.

Two house helpers approached, polite and efficient.

“Mrs. Cole, may we bring in your luggage?” one asked.

“Yes,” Clara said. “Thank you.”

They moved quickly, wheeling her suitcases toward the bedroom assigned to her.

“This will be your room,” the helper said, opening a large door.

The room was beautiful. Neutral colors. Soft lighting. A view of the river.

“It’s perfect,” Clara said.

“Please let us know if you need anything,” the helper added.

“Of course.”

When they left, Clara stood alone in the doorway.

She walked slowly through the penthouse. The living area felt more like a gallery than a home. No clutter. No personal items. Just clean lines and polished surfaces.

She touched the back of a chair. Cold leather.

“This place doesn’t feel lived in,” she murmured.

Her phone buzzed.

Ethan: I’m really sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can.

Clara typed back: Take your time. I’ll unpack.

She set the phone down and opened her suitcase.

Each item felt small against the space. Clothes disappeared into the closet. Shoes lined up neatly but looked out of place.

She sat on the edge of the bed.

“This is my home now,” she said quietly.

The words didn’t feel real.

She wandered into the kitchen. Everything was spotless, because it's obviously unused.

“Do people actually cook here?” she asked no one.

Her phone suddenly rang, and it was none other than Ethan...

“Clara?” Ethan’s voice came through.

“Yes?”

“I’m still at the office,” he said. “It’s taking longer than expected.”

“That’s okay,” she replied.

“I don’t want you to feel abandoned.”

She hesitated. “I don’t. It’s just… quiet.”

“I’ll bring dinner home,” he offered.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll order something.”

There was a pause. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Clara said. “Focus on your meeting.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Ethan replied.

After the call, she ordered takeout and ate alone at the long dining table. One plate in the center of it all.

She pushed the food around more than she ate.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

She explored again. A study filled with books Ethan had probably never read. A media room untouched. A guest bedroom that felt more inviting than her own.

She returned to her room and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“So this is it,” she whispered.

The door opened softly.

Ethan stepped in, tie loosened.

“You’re back,” Clara said, sitting up.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He glanced around. “Have you settled in?”

“A little.”

He hesitated. “Does it feel okay?”

She chose her words carefully. “It’s beautiful. But it feels… empty.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“It doesn’t feel like a home yet,” she added.

“That’s on me,” Ethan said. “I’ve never really lived here.”

She looked at him. “Then maybe we both need to learn.”

He smiled faintly. “I’d like that.”

They stood in the quiet, the city glowing outside.

“Welcome home,” Ethan said again.

Clara wasn’t sure if she believed it yet.

But she nodded anyway.