𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚂𝚘𝚗.

Chapter 16

Why did he decide to fix his problems by drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey and expensive wine? That was because he was helpless and was already used to emptying his emotions in just a bottle of alcohol. It was like medicine to him. A medicine that had a huge price to pay, and that being the hangover he'd have the following day. He'd have to worry about that some other time.

Luckily his driver was with him, and he had instructed that he be driven over to Kunmi's house. Even in his tipsy state, that was where he wanted to be right now. He didn't want to head over to his father's hotel, where nearly everyone there were celebrating his sadness and rejoicing over his loss. He didn't want that. He'd rather spend the night at Kunmi's than have himself be taken back there.

It was too toxic for him. Too many fake people. Too many fake empathy, and way too many fake jubilation. It made him sick to his stomach, and that was why he couldn't even stay there. He wouldn't dare to stay in a place where he only felt suffocated. He couldn't even have a few seconds of peace to himself. No, he couldn't. Instead, everyone felt high on the sugar rush of the moment. They felt high on the merriment that all they did was make preparations for something he never even wanted. Something they knew he was never going to appreciate, nor be happy about. Still, they made a mountain out of a molehill from it.

"Oga, are you sure it's best that I—" although tipsy, Damola hadn't lost his senses. And the last thing he wanted, was to be lectured by anyone. And especially not his designated driver.

"What do I pay you for? To question orders?" Damola stared arrows at the driver, and the young man gulped and shook his head, no. He had never seen Damola like this before.

So pissed. So vulnerable, and yet so sad. "I'm sorry, sir," The driver mellowed immediately. "It won't happen again." He quickly added, as he started the car and proceeded to Kunmi's house.

"It better not." Damola muttered, as he stared out the window. He watched the fading scenery under the night sky, and with every passing second, his heart heavied. It was only a matter of days before his engagement to Chelsea would commence. Still, he wasn't happy. He couldn't even pretend to be happy.

This was really weighing him down more than he could've ever expected. The drive down to Kunmi's place was rather boring, and he spent his time sulking on the we there. Hopefully he'd cheer up a bit when he'd see Kunmi, whom he had been trying to avoid all week.

* * *

"Who—" Kunmi took a pause, the minute she pulled the door open and was met with a tipsy Damola, leaning against the doorpost. "Damola? What are you doing here? And by this time of the night?" She couldn't help but ask.

Damola, however let out a small groan, and tried getting off of the doorpost. Once he did, he towered over her and sighed. "Can— can I at least come in first? Please?" His eyes were sadder than ever, and Kunmi knew - without being told twice - that something was definitely wrong. She knew Damola really well, and the only time Damola was ever like this, was when he was sad. And that rarely ever happened.

Immediately, she stepped aside and let him into the house. Damola staggered into the house, barely able to find his footing. Kunmi, however, helped him onto the couch, and sat right next to him.

"Care to explain what the hell is going on with you? You look like you just— like you just lost someone." Kunmi said, peering at him through her lashes and trying so hard to read through the emotions visible in his eyes - and careful not to unknowingly make him even more upset the he already was.

Damola sighed, and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "I'm getting married to Chelsea. I already proposed." He said, solemn than ever.