Her voice was barely above a whisper. “One chance.”
“One chance,” he promised.
For a while, Okafor kept his worlds separate.
By day, he was the heir, the decision maker, the son expected to marry Princess Diana.
By night, he was just a man sitting across from Ada, learning how to breathe.
But secrets do not stay hidden forever.
His family noticed the changes.
He skipped dinners. Rescheduled meetings. Turned down invitations.
His father summoned him one afternoon.
When Okafor entered the study, both his parents were waiting.
“We’ve been hearing things,” his father said.
Okafor stayed silent.
“You’ve been seen,” his mother added.
“At a small restaurant,” his father continued. “With a waitress.”
The word landed like an insult.
Okafor looked at him.
“Yes.”
His father turned sharply. “A waitress?”
“Yes.”
“You are embarrassing this family.”
“I am living my life.”
“You do not have that luxury.”
Okafor met his gaze. “For once, I do.”
His mother spoke more softly. “What is this, Okafor? A distraction? A phase?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“She matters to me.”
The silence that followed was unforgiving.
“And what about Diana?” his father asked.
“I don’t love her.”
“Love is irrelevant.”
“Not to me.”
His father laughed coldly. “This is about legacy. Power. Responsibility.”
“And what about happiness?”
“Happiness is a byproduct, not a priority.”
“It is to me.”
His father stepped closer.
