Micah stood in front of the mirror for far longer than he cared to admit, his gaze fixed on his own reflection as though reassurance might be hiding somewhere between the sharp lines of his tailored suit and the carefully styled fall of his silver hair. However, the more he looked, the more uncertain he seemed to become, his brows drawing together slightly as a trace of worry settled across his otherwise striking features.

He tilted his head to one side, then the other, scrutinising every detail with a level of seriousness that would have been almost amusing under normal circumstances. After a moment, he finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

"Be honest with me," he said, glancing at the figure behind him through the mirror. "Do you think I went a little too far with this? Is the three-piece suit... too much? Like, overkill?"

Standing a short distance behind him, Darcy remained composed, his posture relaxed yet refined. He was dressed entirely in black, though there was nothing plain about his appearance. The suit he wore was sharply tailored, hugging his frame with effortless precision, while the shirt beneath it shimmered subtly under the light, adding just enough contrast to prevent the look from becoming dull. A silver tie rested neatly against his chest, drawing the eye without overwhelming the rest of his outfit.

His dark hair had been combed back neatly, exposing his pale, smooth forehead and giving him an air of quiet authority. His ebony eyes lingered on Micah’s reflection, observing him in silence for a brief moment before he finally responded.

"You look perfectly fine," Darcy said, his tone calm and steady, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Actually, more than fine. It’s your engagement party. If there’s ever a time to stand out, it’s now."

Micah turned his head slightly, still unconvinced, his fingers moving to adjust the cuff of his sleeve for what was likely the tenth time in the past few minutes.

"You really think so?" he pressed, his voice soft.

His outfit, by all standards, was immaculate. The sage green suit complemented his fair complexion beautifully, the colour soft yet distinct enough to draw attention. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt provided a clean contrast, while the golden handkerchief tucked neatly into his pocket added a subtle touch of warmth to the overall look. On his right hand, the yellow jade ring caught the light with every slight movement, its quiet brilliance impossible to ignore.

His silver hair had been styled with deliberate care, left just wild enough to give him an effortlessly striking appearance rather than something overly polished. Paired with his hazel eyes, which seemed to glint with restless energy, the overall effect was nothing short of captivating.

If anything, he looked less like someone preparing for an engagement celebration and more like a model stepping straight out of a high-end fashion show, or perhaps even a character pulled from the pages of some elaborate fantasy.

Darcy blinked once, as though momentarily caught off guard by the visual before him, but he quickly recovered.

"I’m serious," he said, folding his arms loosely. "If anything, you ought to be outshining everyone else there."

Micah huffed softly, though the tension in his shoulders did not ease in the slightest. He turned back toward the mirror, his eyes scanning his reflection once again as if searching for flaws that only he could see.

Under normal circumstances, he would not have cared this much. In fact, earlier that very morning, he had been his usual self, carefree, mischievous, and entirely unbothered by the constant stream of nagging from his mother or the teasing remarks from Aria. He had laughed things off, shrugged his shoulders, and moved through the day without a single concern.

However, somewhere along the way, something had shifted.

He could not quite pinpoint when it had started, but gradually, an unfamiliar sense of unease had crept in. His hands had begun to feel clammy, a thin layer of sweat forming against his palms no matter how many times he wiped them discreetly against his trousers. His thoughts, once easy and unrestrained, had turned restless, spiralling into a series of increasingly ridiculous possibilities that refused to leave him alone.

And the worst part was, he knew exactly why. Given his track record, it was not entirely unreasonable.

There had been far too many occasions in the past where he had managed to embarrass himself at precisely the worst possible moment. Times when he should have been composed, serious, and dignified, yet somehow ended up doing the exact opposite.

What if he tripped while walking in front of everyone? What if he said something completely inappropriate without thinking? What if he somehow embarrassed Clyde in front of all those guests?

The thought alone made his stomach twist.

What if he spilled wine, on himself, or worse, on Clyde? What if his temper got the better of him over something trivial, and he ended up causing a scene?

What if...

Micah exhaled sharply, cutting off the worrisome thoughts before they could continue any further. He pressed his lips together, attempting to steady himself as he took a slow, measured breath.

This was not like him. It really was not. Yet no matter how much he tried to dismiss it, the tension remained.

And the reason was painfully obvious. He cared too much. Clyde mattered too much for him to treat this like just another casual event. The idea of possibly ruining their engagement party made it impossible to relax.

He lifted a hand to his chest briefly, as though trying to calm the uneasy rhythm of his heartbeat, then forced himself to take another deep breath. Even so, his fingers continued to fidget restlessly at his side.

Behind him, Darcy let out a quiet sigh, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Seriously, chill out," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "You’ve asked me that at least five times already."

Micah did not even bother denying it.

Darcy shook his head slightly, though his expression softened just a fraction as he looked away. In truth, his irritation was only half genuine. Because deep down, he knew exactly why he was here.

His gaze dropped momentarily, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. It had been some time since he had last seen Ilyas.

Ever since that day, since leaving that apartment, he had made no effort to seek him out again. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that he had been actively avoiding him.

He did not want to see the way Ilyas might react to him now. He did not want to witness that subtle flinch, that hesitation, that instinctive attempt to step back or put distance between them.

The mere thought of it was enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Those lingering insecurities had followed him for weeks, settling into the back of his mind like an unwelcome shadow. He had not confronted them, had not even tried to make sense of them.

Instead, he had chosen the easier path. Avoidance. And so, he had stayed close to Micah, using this as both an excuse and a shield. As long as he remained here, he would not have to face Ilyas, not until it became absolutely unavoidable.

At least for now. Once the ceremony concluded, he could leave quietly without drawing attention.

That had been the plan from the beginning. Besides, today was not about him. It was Micah’s moment.

The last thing he wanted was to attract unnecessary attention by mingling with guests who would undoubtedly attempt to probe him with thinly veiled questions about his ambitions, his position, and his intentions regarding the Ramsy family.

He had already made his stance clear to Albert and Jacob. He had no interest in inheriting the company.

What he wanted was something entirely his own, something he could build from the ground up without relying on an existing legacy. His gaming company was already gaining momentum, growing faster than he had initially anticipated.

For now, he would assist Willow in stabilising matters within the Ramsy enterprise. After that, he would step away completely.

Given this, no one expected him to involve himself too deeply in the social aspects of the event. Which suited him just fine.

A sudden movement pulled him back to the present.

Micah had placed a hand over his stomach, his expression tightening slightly as though something was bothering him.

Darcy frowned immediately. "What is wrong?" he asked, his tone sharpening with concern. "Did you not eat anything earlier?"

Micah’s lips curved into a small pout, his earlier anxiety momentarily replaced by mild discomfort. "I just... did not feel like eating," he admitted.

Darcy let out a breath, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah, I figured," he said dryly. "You have been too busy panicking over your outfit."

Micah shot him a half-hearted glare but did not argue.

Darcy shook his head again, already turning toward the door. "I’ll go get you something," he said. "At the very least, you should not be walking around on an empty stomach."

He paused briefly, glancing back. "Do you have your reflux meds with you?"

Micah blinked, his expression going blank as he tried to recall. "...I think so?"

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "That doesn’t sound very convincing."

Micah hesitated, clearly unsure.

Darcy exhaled through his nose. "Stay here," he said. "I’ll find it."

Without waiting for a response, he stepped out of the room, leaving Micah alone once more.

Micah immediately began pacing. He could not sit still. Could not stand still. The restless energy within him refused to settle, driving him to move aimlessly across the room as though that alone might ease the tension.

After a moment, he tugged at his jacket, pulling it off and tossing it aside, followed by loosening his waistband slightly in an attempt to feel less constrained.

Even so, the discomfort in his stomach lingered. He let out a quiet groan under his breath before reaching for a glass of warm water, taking several long sips in hopes that it might help.

One glass turned into two. Then three. Before he knew it, he’d had way too much.

A few seconds later, the consequence of that decision made itself known.

"...Great."

Muttering under his breath, Micah turned and headed toward the bathroom, pushing the door open as he stepped inside, hoping it would help him get himself together before everything started.