Chapter 34 Chapter Thirty-Four
Leon made his way back into the party with a smile that looked right only at a glance. The sway in his step, the loose set of his shoulders, the delayed laugh when someone congratulated him again — all small tells. And in a room trained to notice everything, small never stayed small.
A few heads turned.
A whisper passed.
Another glance followed.
Leon accepted a glass from a passing waiter without even asking what it was and took a reckless sip. Champagne spilled slightly over his fingers. He didn’t seem to notice.
Across the room, his father did.
The man’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face flickering once with restrained fury. He didn’t storm across the floor. He didn’t cause a scene. In a room this public, dignity was everything.
He leaned toward his wife instead—Leon’s stepmother—and spoke quietly near her ear, his voice low and controlled.
“Handle it.”
She followed his line of sight and immediately saw what he meant.
Leon, barely steady. Laughing too loud. Drinking too freely.
Her lips drew into a hard, narrow line.
She threaded her way through the crowd, slipping past flashing cameras and murmuring guests with calm precision. By the time she reached him, two guards were already stepping forward.
“Sir, are you alright?” one asked carefully. “Would you like us to—”
“I’m fine,” Leon muttered, the words thick as he waved a dismissive hand. “Just celebrating.”
His stepmother moved in instantly, curling her arm around his and lifting a flawless smile for the room.
“He only needs some fresh air,” she said smoothly.
I’ll take him.”
The security nodded, relieved not to be the ones handling it.
Leon laughed again, careless. “See? I told you I’m okay.”
She didn’t answer.
Across the room, Charity finally noticed.
She stood mid-laugh as she saw them escorting Leon toward the door. A faint flush of embarrassment climbed her cheeks—but relief followed just as quickly. Most of the guests were distracted. Most of them hadn’t seen.
She forced a smile as someone grabbed her hand again.
“Come, let’s take another picture!”
She lifted her hand on instinct, the ring catching the light as cameras flashed — even though her eyes kept darting nervously toward the exit where Leon had vanished.
Morning was merciless for Felicity.
Her head hammered with pain, every slow throb a reminder of the night she barely made it through. She eased herself upright, nausea swaying through her as she stood.
Her throat was painfully dry.
She drifted into the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and clutched the counter as she drank it down. Only when the pain in her head loosened its grip did she finally reach for her phone.
A long message waited at the top of her screen.
From Imran.
Her stomach sank before she even opened it.
She read slowly.
He had figured it out.
Not just what happened at the cinema—but why.
He wrote about how her reaction finally made sense to him.
He wrote about how he hadn’t known he was standing behind another man all along.
How shocking it felt to travel so far only to finally understand that.
He said he hoped one day the love she still had inside her would be given back to her in full.
By the time she finished reading, her eyes burned and the words swam.
“I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Guilt closed in around her chest, tight and relentless.
Another burden stacked onto the ones she already carried. First Leon. Now Imran.
She sank back onto the bed, clutching the phone weakly before letting it fall to her side.
The pain in her head worsened.
So did the one in her chest.
Her eyes drifted closed as exhaustion finally dragged her back under.
Charity woke to silence.
For a moment, she smiled into the pillow, the memory of the engagement still warm in her chest. Then she reached out lazily toward the other side of the bed.
Empty.
Her smile faded slightly.
“Leon?” she called softly.
No answer.
She sat up.
The room was untouched. The bathroom unused. His things were nowhere in sight.
The last thing she remembered clearly was being ushered into the car, barely conscious with exhaustion, too tired to ask questions when she didn’t see him again.
Unease crept in slowly.
She reached for her phone.
No messages.
No missed calls.
The butterflies in her stomach felt different now—tight instead of exciting.
Back at the hostel, the air buzzed with the sound of people preparing to leave. Luggage scraped along the hallway. Laughter drifted through open doors.
In Victoria’s room, she was folding clothes neatly when the door pushed open without warning.
Derin stood there.
“Victoria, where is Felicity?” she asked loudly.
Joyce’s head lifted at once.
Bola paused mid-suitcase.
Victoria stiffened. “You don’t have to shout,” she said shortly. “Why not just come and ask me properly?”
Derin shrugged lazily and flopped backward onto the spare bed. “I’m too tired to stand. I just haven’t seen Felicity since the engagement news. That’s all.”
Joyce’s eyes lit faintly with interest.
Bola leaned back against her suitcase.
Victoria caught both reactions instantly.
“She’s been home,” she said quickly. “Even before that. Besides, she had a date with Imran anyway.”
Joyce blinked. “Oh.”
Bola exchanged a glance with her.
Derin smirked faintly.
Victoria grabbed another stack of clothes and folded them with quick, precise movements.
“I’ve got a lot to finish before I head out. We’ll talk later,” she said flatly.
She didn’t wait for Derin to respond.
She guided her to the door and shut it with firm finality.
Only then did she sink back against it and release a slow breath, her heart still racing.
Leon woke up on a couch that wasn’t his.
His mouth tasted bitter — like metal and regret — and his head throbbed violently. When he forced his eyes open, the light sliced straight through him.
The memories returned in fragments.
The bar.
The alley.
The bottle.
The escort.
Shame sank heavy in his chest.
Somewhere across the city, Felicity lay asleep through her migraine.
Charity stood alone in a guest room staring at her phone.