Romances de Mfonabasi Akang

Darian’s POVSoon, I’d be having the perfect day with my wife.My Wife.The word echoed in my head, pulling a low, triumphant laugh from my throat. It was a title of possession. Soon. Very soon, I’d finally have someone I could call mine,someone the world would know belonged to me. I adjusted my cufflinks, the diamond studs catching the light of the stained-glass windows. I lifted my wrist and checked my Patek Philippe.10:02 a.m. Two minutes late.I exhaled slowly and leaned back against the altar. Relax. George probably missed a turn. Sylvie was never careless. She was likely just adjusting her veil for the tenth time. The minute hand moved.10:04. I scanned the entrance again, my jaw tightening. The light coming through the doors seemed too bright, too empty.10:10. My fingers tapped against my thigh as unease crept in. The orchestra had gone quiet. Guests shifted in their seats.By 10:25, whispers rippled through the hall like a disease.At 10:35, one of my best men stepped closer

Sylvie's POVThe wedding morning is finally here. After three long years, I can not wait to say yes and become Mrs Thorne.The hotel door was pushed open by Evelyn and Darian's cousins.“The bride is awake.” One of the girls said laughing. “ It's time for your makeup my dear.”“You have to look your best, Darian shouldn't be able to take his eyes off you,” Evelyn said while coming to drag me up the bed.“Good morning to you all,” I muttered sleepily while allowing Evelyn drag me to the bathroom while wondering why I wasn't tense like the usual bridezillas but then I have to thank my Mother-in-law for acting that part for me.After showering, the bridesmaids pushed me into a chair. A team of professionals began painting my face and curling my hair.After hours, “You can look now,” the makeup artist whispered.I turned toward the mirror and gasped. “Wow, you look so stunning,” Joyce, Darian's sister, said. I couldn't help but agree as I looked into the mirror, I saw how the makeup art

Sylvie’s POV “If you don’t want to die, leave him now. Darian isn't who you think he is.”The words were scrawled in a jagged, aggressive handwriting as if the writer had been in a frantic hurry. I stared at it, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My breath hitched, as I stared at the paper. Who would write this? Why would someone try to come between us now?I looked toward the kitchen door. I could hear the low, melodic hum of Darian’s voice as he moved about. We were days away from the wedding. "It’s a prank. It has to be a prank.” I muttered the words softly to myself, the sound of my own voice shaking me.The kitchen door swung open. In a blind panic, I shoved the note behind my back, my fingers crumpling the paper. I forced a smile that felt like it was cracking my face as Darian walked toward me."Here you go, baby girl," he said, his voice a warm caress. He handed me the glass, his fingers lingering against mine."Thank you." My hand trembled as I took the wa

Sylvie’s POVI am Sylvie Carter and I'm twenty-three, a lone child, no parents, no friends, luckily … I'm engaged and … Achoo…Achoo…That was the seventh time I’d sneezed this evening. Four days to my wedding, and here I was, battling an impossible flu. The penthouse at the Imperial Crest was painfully quiet. The staff had all gone for the day, leaving me alone with my thoughts and no one to talk to.I simply carried the bag of drugs I had gotten earlier from the doctor and dropped it by the side table and I sat on our velvet couch, staring at the city buzzing below through the floor to ceiling window that also reflected my blue eyes.“I wonder what life is like down there?” I whispered as I watched the cars move like tiny glowing dots of lights. I found myself mesmerized by them.I’m sure the people there must be drinking, or eating or partying or even having fun with their family or friends. I would trade 5 of … or maybe 7 of my Birkin bags to have someone I could talk to… and trus