Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Three
Leon thought they were going home.
That was what his mother had said in the car—just a quick stop, nothing serious. He’d been quiet the entire ride, still half inside the echo of fireworks and flashing lights, Charity leaning into him with a happiness so bright it almost hurt to stand beside.
The car slowed instead of pulling into their street.
Leon frowned. “Where are we—”
The doors swung open before he could finish.
Cameras.
Flashing lights.
A wall of sound crashed into him—cheers, music, voices calling their names. A towering entrance glittered ahead of them, draped in gold fabrics and crystal lights. Valets rushed forward. Guests in designer gowns and tailored suits turned all at once.
“To your engagement after party!” Charity’s mother announced brightly, already smiling for the cameras.
Charity gasped in delight. “Mum! You planned all this?”
Leon felt the air leave his chest.
Engagement after party.
Charity squeezed his arm in excitement, already stepping out of the car as the crowd erupted again. He followed numb, the noise swallowing him whole.
Inside, everything was too much.
Music thumped through his bones. Champagne flowed in fountains. A live band played near the stage. Guests surged toward them in waves—family, friends, business partners, influencers, people he barely recognized.
They were pulled in different directions but always brought back together for photos.
“Smile!”
“Over here!”
“Congratulations!”
Charity glowed under it all. She laughed, cried, hugged everyone, lifted her hand again and again so people could admire the ring. Each time someone complimented it, her joy grew louder, brighter.
Leon smiled when he was told to.
His face hurt from holding it.
Rounds of greetings turned into an endless loop. His chest tightened with every loud laugh, every camera flash. The room felt smaller by the second.
“I need a minute,” he muttered suddenly to Charity between two congratulatory hugs.
She glanced at him in surprise. “Are you okay?”
“Just—give me a minute,” he said again, softer.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Don’t be long.”
Leon turned and slipped through the crowd before anyone could stop him.
The bar was dimmer, quieter. Blessedly so.
He dropped onto a stool and loosened his tie like it was choking him.
“Martini,” he said to the bartender. “Strong.”
The glass arrived cold in his hand. He drained half of it in one go.
From across the room, Charity glanced toward the bar, searching for him with a faint crease between her brows. For a second, she seemed like she might walk over—
“Charity!” someone called, pulling her back. “Show us the ring again!”
Her face lit instantly.
Leon looked away.
The martini wasn’t enough.
He leaned closer to the counter. “I need a bottle,” he said quietly. “Anything strong. Take it to the back. I’ll tip double. Just—don’t let anyone see it.”
The bartender hesitated for only a heartbeat before giving a short nod.
Moments later, Leon shoved through a side door into the dark alley, the bottle tight in his grip.
The cold night air slapped against his skin.
He twisted the cap off and took a long, brutal swallow.
The burn tore its way straight down his chest.
He barely felt it.
For the first time since the proposal, he pulled out his phone.
The screen exploded with notifications.
GUYYYYYYY!!!
YOU DIDN’T TELL US
ENGAGED??? HELLO???
BRO YOU PROPOSED ON LIVE TV??
TIMELINE BROKEN.
Missed calls. Tags. Mentions. Headlines already forming.
And then it landed.
Felicity.
She’s seen it.
The thought hit him so hard it felt like being punched.
Of course she’d seen it. Everyone had.
How could she not?
His fingers trembled as he scrolled.
A message from Gwen popped up.
Gwen:
What you did is cruel. You didn’t just hurt her. You humiliated her in front of the entire world.
Leon closed his eyes.
Another swallow from the bottle. Bigger this time.
The world tilted.
His chest tightened, breath uneven.
He didn’t reply.
He couldn’t.
Instead, he powered his phone off.
Dark screen.
Silence.
He lifted the bottle again.
Felicity lay curled on her side, knees tucked tightly to her chest. The room was swallowed in darkness except for the thin spill of streetlight leaking through the curtains. She felt drained, like something important had been pulled out of her and left her behind.
Her breathing came in quiet, uneven pulls.
At some point, her tears had soaked into the pillow under her cheek — she couldn’t even remember when they’d started again.
Only that she hadn’t really stopped.
It hurt less than before.
And that scared her.
She reached blindly for her phone.
Another message.
Imran:
I hope you’re okay. I wish you’d told me immediately what was wrong, but take your time. I wish I could stay in the city longer, but you know my exams start tomorrow. Just… please take care of yourself.
Her vision blurred all over again.
He had noticed.
He had waited.
He had cared.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then dropped.
She turned the phone face down and pressed her forehead into the pillow.
A small, broken sound escaped her throat before she could stop it.
Somewhere across the city, music was still playing.
Laughter was still rising into the night.
And Leon—
Leon was drinking.
She didn’t know that.
But somehow, her chest felt the echo of it anyway.
Back inside the party, Charity was surrounded again—voices overlapping, glasses clinking, cameras flashing. Yet her eyes kept drifting toward the side door.
Leon had been gone too long.
She excused herself at last and scanned the room.
The bar stool was empty.
So was the hallway beyond it.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
She ignored it.
For the first time that night, unease slipped through her excitement.
Outside, Leon leaned against the brick wall, the bottle nearly half gone, his tie loose, his jacket hanging open.
The night blurred softly around him.
For one dangerous moment, he imagined calling her.
Hearing Felicity’s voice.
Telling her—
His phone was off.
He took another drink instead.