Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty-One
Leon stood in the middle of the Wyatt guest room with his arms stretched out while the stylists fussed over him—straightening his sleeves, tugging at his collar, debating over a tie like it mattered. Their voices barely registered. His mind was buzzing too loudly, tight with the pressure squeezing at his chest.
Another stylist brushed powder along his jaw.
“Chin up, sir.”
He lifted it, though his teeth pressed together.
The suit—charcoal, sharp, perfect—felt like a cage. Too fitted. Too neat. Too much. In the inner pocket, tucked where no one would look, was a tiny silver flask. He’d already taken two careful sips, just enough to stop his hands from shaking.
The door swung open.
“Leon.” “Finish up. You have only a few minutes.”
“Alright, you need to be ready in a few minutes.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s voice carried easily through the room as she walked in, heels clicking in that familiar, controlled rhythm. A cluster of assistants followed close behind her.
“The cameramen are already set up,” she said while checking something on her tablet.
“The livestream team is testing equipment. The violinists have rehearsed the entrance. Your father’s associates and the extended families are on their way. Everything is set.”
Leon exhaled slowly, palms damp.
Of course everything was set.
Everything except him.
Mrs. Wyatt adjusted his lapel with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You know this means a lot to Charity. To all of us. Don’t ruin the moment.”
He nodded. Not because he agreed—because he didn't have the strength to fight anymore.
The room felt smaller. The suit felt tighter. The alcohol bottle felt heavier.
But he followed them out anyway.
CHARITY — HAIR, MAKEUP, HOPE
Across the city, Charity sat in a plush chair in her cousin’s apartment, wrapped in a silky robe while two makeup artists and a hairstylist worked around her like she was a bride already.
Her curls were pinned into soft waves. Her makeup glowed. Highlighter kissed her cheeks. Her lips shimmered with rosy gloss.
She had never looked more perfect.
And she had never felt more alive.
“Charity, tilt your head,” the makeup artist murmured while blending the contour.
She did as told, watching her reflection with a smile that only kept growing.
She didn’t know exactly how the proposal would happen—honestly, she didn’t want the specifics. If Leon couldn’t give her the surprise she’d fantasized about, at least the moment itself could still feel magical. She had waited for this too long, dreamed about it too often, held on to hope for too many nights.
Her mother peeked into the room, her face glowing. “Sweetheart, the driver’s outside.”
Charity rose and smoothed her dress, a flutter spreading through her stomach.
Nothing—not Felicity, not uncertainty, not even the truth—was going to touch this day.
FELICITY — A DIFFERENT WORLD ENTIRELY
Meanwhile, Felicity stood just outside her hostel gate as Imran pulled up in his car.
He stepped out immediately, walked around, and opened her door.
“You look nice,” he said with a teasing smile.
She rolled her eyes lightly but smiled back. “It’s just a hoodie.”
“Still nice.”
Inside the car, he played soft music, nothing heavy, nothing intrusive. The kind of comfort she didn’t realize she needed.
At the cinema, he insisted on paying for everything—the tickets, the popcorn, the drinks. He held open every door, cracked jokes, made her laugh before the movie even started.
It felt easy.
Normal.
Safe.
She settled into her seat as the lights dimmed.
Maybe tonight would be simple.
For once.
LEON — THE VENUE
Leon arrived at the private event hall before Charity, escorted through the back entrance. The place had been transformed—flowers lining the walkway, candles flickering in glass cups, soft golden lighting casting everything in a romantic glow.
A massive backdrop stood at the center:
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
Even though Charity had bought the engagement ring herself and sent it to him weeks ago, the organizers still placed a small velvet box in his hand, its weight colder than he expected.
Cameras pointed at him from every angle.
Violinists waited for their cue.
Family members whispered with excitement behind the curtains.
Everyone was ready.
Everyone except him.
He took another discreet sip from his hidden flask.
The burn was the only thing that felt real.
CHARITY’S ENTRANCE
The moment Charity stepped into the hall, violin strings rose gently, filling the room with soft, romantic music.
The livestream started.
Charity immediately covered her mouth, letting out an exaggerated gasp.
“Leon… oh my God,” she said, eyes wide with excitement.
She walked the length of the flower-decorated path, smiling so hard her lips shook. Phones flashed everywhere, and the livestream comments rushed in—hearts, cheers, nonstop chatter.
She looked radiant, glowing with expectation, completely clueless about the truth.
Leon stood watching, each step she took making his chest grow heavier.
She deserved someone whose knees didn’t tremble from dread.
Someone who wasn’t waiting for an escape.
Someone who wasn’t in love with someone else.
But he stayed.
He smiled.
He played his part.
For her.
For his family.
For the expectations that held him hostage.
Charity finally reached him.
“Leon…” she whispered, eyes shiny.
He went down on one knee.
The crowd gasped.
The cameras flashed brighter.
She covered her trembling mouth with both hands.
FELICITY — THE WORLD COLLIDES
Back in the cinema, Felicity’s phone began vibrating.
Once.
Twice.
Then continuously.
Buzz after buzz after buzz.
She frowned, whispering an apology to Imran as she lowered the brightness and checked the screen.
Messages flooded in.
Group chats.
Status tags.
Mentions.
Missed calls.
Her notifications stacked faster than she could swipe them away.
“What’s going on?” Imran whispered.
“I don’t know—sorry, just—just give me a sec.”
The next buzz was a Twitter notification.
Then Instagram.
Then WhatsApp.
She clicked the first headline she could catch as it flashed across her lock screen.
And her heart stopped.
LEON WYATT AND CHARITY OKAFOR ARE GETTING ENGAGED — LIVE TONIGHT
Felicity’s breath caught.
The popcorn dropped from her hand.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
On her screen, a livestream thumbnail showed Charity walking toward Leon… smiling like her whole world was finally falling into place.
Felicity’s lungs forgot how to work.
The cinema around her faded away.
The movie became noise.
Her heartbeat drowned everything else out.
Imran leaned closer, concerned. “Felicity? What’s wrong?”
But she couldn’t answer.
She couldn’t even blink.
Her world had just split open—quietly, devastatingly, right there in the middle of a movie theatre.