The woman he was expected to marry.
The arrangement had been made years earlier, long before Okafor had any real say in his future. It was not just a marriage. It was an alliance. The Okafor empire would merge influence with the royal family, strengthening both sides for generations.
To everyone else, it was perfect.
Diana was beautiful, educated, graceful, and trained from childhood to carry attention like a crown. When she stood beside Okafor, they looked like power made human.
But perfection, Okafor had learned, could feel very empty from the inside.
That evening, the royal dinner was held in a palace hall lit by chandeliers that glittered like captured stars. Guests moved over polished floors, conversations flowed easily, and every detail—from the flowers to the cutlery—looked as if it had been planned months in advance.
Okafor arrived in a tailored black suit, polite and unreadable.
Then he saw Diana.
She stood near the center of the room in a gold gown that moved like liquid light. When their eyes met, she smiled and stepped toward him.
“Okafor,” she said warmly. “You’re late.”
“I’m on time.”
She laughed softly. Even her laugh sounded trained—never too loud, never careless.
“You look beautiful,” he said, because it was expected.
“And you look exactly like a man who would rather be anywhere else,” she replied.
For one second, honesty passed between them.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asked quietly.
“Of what?”
“This performance.”
Diana glanced around the room, still smiling for anyone watching. “It is not a performance. It is responsibility.”
“To whom?”
“To everyone who depends on us.”
That was the difference between them.
Diana accepted the life she had been given.
Okafor questioned it.
During dinner, their families discussed investments, alliances, and future plans. Their fathers spoke like generals preparing for war. Their mothers made sure the conversation stayed smooth.
Then Diana’s father finally said what everyone had been circling.
“The wedding should not be delayed any longer.”
Okafor’s father nodded. “I agree.”
All eyes turned to Okafor.
His mother added gently, “This union is long overdue.”
Okafor set down his glass.
There it was again. His future, laid out like a contract waiting for his signature.
“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “we should take more time.”
The room cooled.
