Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen
Felicity stared at Leon’s name glowing on her screen, her thumb hovering over the answer button. She shouldn’t pick up. She knew that. She’d already told herself ten times that morning that she needed distance, clarity, peace — anything that didn’t involve Leon Wyatt and the hurricane he carried around like perfume.
But her chest tightened at the thought of ignoring him, and before she could gather enough discipline to force herself to be strong, she answered.
“Felicity.” His voice came out low, rough, like he hadn’t slept. “Please. I need to see you.”
She closed her eyes, leaning back against the cold wall outside her hostel block. “Leon… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” he said immediately, breathless, desperate. “Just see me. Five minutes. Please.”
Her resolve wavered. She could hear something real in his tone — not charm, not manipulation, just longing. And maybe… maybe this was the moment to tell him. The only moment she’d get before the semester swallowed them whole.
“I think I should tell you something,” she said quietly. “About my hostel room.”
“What about it?”
“I’m staying in the four-man room with Mope, Bisola…” she hesitated, waited for courage to catch up to her. “And Charity.”
Silence. A thick, weighted silence that made her stomach twist.
“No.” His voice sharpened instantly, rising with disbelief and frustration. “No, Felicity, you can’t be serious.”
She blinked. “What do you mean, I can’t—”
“You can’t stay there. You and Charity are not— you’re not friends. You don’t even know what she’s capable of.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped before she realized her tone had shifted. “What do you want me to do? Sleep outside? The hostels were filled up, and she didn’t recognize me at first. We didn’t even know each other-know each other.”
“You have to change rooms.”
“Leon, I can’t. There’s nowhere else—”
“I’ll find you somewhere,” he insisted. “Just don’t stay with her. You don’t understand.”
Felicity’s irritation spiked, heat racing beneath her skin. “Oh, so now you suddenly care where I stay? Now you magically want to ‘protect’ me? Leon, you’re the one who couldn’t even—”
“Please,” he cut in, voice fraying at the edges. “Just meet me. Let me explain everything. Let me— let me see you.”
Her breath held for a second, suspended between anger and longing.
“Where?” she asked finally.
“I’ll send the location.”
The lodge was private, tucked behind a line of trees close to campus — just quiet enough for someone trying to avoid being seen.
When she arrived, Leon was already by the door waiting to open as soon as she got there. The second he saw her, something in his face loosened, softened.
“Felicity,” he breathed.
She forced her steps to stay steady. “You said five minutes.”
“Yeah.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I know.”
He opened the door to the small room. She stepped inside first, staying by the wall, arms crossed. He stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching her like he was afraid she might vanish.
“You’re really staying with her,” he said quietly.
“I told you. I don’t have a choice.”
“You do.”
“Leon, stop.” She exhaled sharply. “You’re making it seem like I’m… what? Choosing Charity over you? Or doing it to spite you?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you’re implying,” she shot back.
He dragged a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders rising. “I’m trying to protect you—”
“You’re projecting,” she countered.
His head snapped up. “What?”
“Whatever happened between you and Charity… that’s on you two. Not me. I’m not the middle of your war. I’m not the referee in your drama.”
Leon stared at her. Really stared. And for the first time, she saw him hesitate, saw uncertainty flicker across his expression.
“You think that’s what this is?” he asked quietly. “Drama?”
“What else would it be?”
He took a few steps toward her, each one slow, deliberate. “Felicity… it’s not drama. It’s fear.”
Her heartbeat jumped. “Fear of what?”
“Of you getting hurt. Because of me.”
Something in her chest trembled, something she’d been holding too tightly for too long. She shook her head, trying to steady her breath.
“You’re my weakness.”
That did it. The air shifted. Thickened. Her throat tightened, her heartbeat tripping into something reckless.
“This is why I didn’t want to come,” she said, voice barely steady. “You say things like that and expect me to—”
“I expect you to believe me.”
“I don’t know if I should.”
He stepped closer until the space between them pulsed with unfinished sentences and held-back desire.
“Then tell me to leave,” he murmured. “Tell me to walk out, and I will.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
“Felicity,” he whispered, “please don’t tell me to leave.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t.
And in the silence, everything crashed in.
The longing. The tension. The months of wanting and fighting and denying. A storm that had been waiting for just one crack.
He reached for her slowly — giving her time to step away.
She didn’t move.
His hand brushed her waist.
Her breath hitched.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.
“The worst,” he agreed, leaning in. “But I’ve wanted you for too long.”
Her fingers curled against his shirt.
“Then don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
And she didn’t.
What started as a shaky kiss spiraled fast — too fast — into something fierce, hungry, overwhelming. Clothes fell away, breaths tangled, and every boundary they’d tried to build snapped clean under the weight of everything they’d been holding back. They weren’t careful, or reasonable, or calm.
They were two people who’d spent months pretending not to be in love.
And pretending had finally run out.
Later — tangled in the sheets, her head resting on his chest, his fingers tracing slow lines on her back — reality crept in again.
She didn’t say anything.
Neither did he.
Until his phone vibrated on the table.
He reached for it lazily… then froze.
A message from his mother.
“We need to talk. Charity’s parents want to know when we’re announcing the pregnancy.”
All the air left Leon’s lungs.
Pregnancy.
His vision tunneled, the words blurring as a cold rush shot through his body.
He thought—
He thought she would have…
He thought the problem was gone.
But it wasn’t.
It was now.
And Felicity — lying warm against him — had no idea.
Leon stared at the message, heart pounding, horror creeping up his spine.
No.
No.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not now.
Not after this.
Not after her.
The phone slipped from his hand.
And the chapter ended with the sound of his breathing breaking.