Just before they stepped out into the banquet hall, the music within the venue shifted almost imperceptibly. What had once been a lively background arrangement softened into something slower, gentler, and unmistakably romantic. The change was subtle, yet deliberate, as though the entire room itself had taken a quiet breath in anticipation. It served as an unspoken signal, announcing to every guest present that the moment they had been waiting for was about to begin.

Micah noticed it immediately.

The faint shift in melody tightened something in his chest, and the calm he had been trying to maintain began to slip. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides before he lifted one hand to adjust his cuff again, even though it had already been perfectly straightened moments earlier.

His shoulders stiffened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a restless energy settling into his body. For all his confidence and sharp tongue, moments like this still managed to get under his skin.

Clyde, standing beside him, noticed immediately.

Without saying anything at first, he reached out and gently took Micah’s hand, his fingers sliding between Micah’s and interlocking with quiet familiarity. His grip was firm but warm, grounding without being forceful.

"Hey," Clyde said softly, his voice low enough that it did not carry beyond the space between them. "Relax a little. I’m right here. I’ve got you."

Micah glanced at him, his expression still tense, but something in Clyde’s calm presence eased the sharp edge of his nerves. He inhaled slowly, drawing in a steady breath as though trying to anchor himself in that simple reassurance.

"Yeah... okay," he murmured, nodding faintly.

For a brief moment, they stood there together, hands intertwined, sharing a quiet pause before the storm of attention waiting on the other side of the door.

Then, without further delay, the doors were pushed open.

A voice rang out clearly, announcing their names with practised formality, and almost instantly, the hall responded.

Applause broke out, rising in a wave that filled the vast space. Conversations ceased, heads turned, and all eyes were drawn toward the entrance as the two of them stepped forward into the light.

Micah’s posture straightened automatically, his expression settling into something composed, almost unreadable. He kept his gaze forward, refusing to let it wander across the sea of faces watching him. Despite that, he could feel it, the weight of their attention, heavy and inescapable.

His palm had already begun to grow damp where it was clasped with Clyde’s.

Clyde noticed again, and this time, he did not say anything. Instead, he tightened his hold just slightly, his thumb pressing reassuringly against the back of Micah’s hand. The small gesture carried more comfort than words ever could.

Step by step, they made their way toward the stage.

The path felt longer than it actually was, stretched out by the intensity of the moment. The music continued to flow around them, soft and deliberate, as though guiding their steps.

When they finally reached the front, Micah paused.

Traditionally, this would have been the moment where the bride’s father stepped forward, placing his child’s hand into the groom’s and asking the question that symbolised trust, responsibility, and the passing of care from one person to another.

However, that part had been deliberately omitted. Micah had insisted on it.

The reason was simple, even if he had not explained it in full to anyone else. Jacob was... emotional lately. Too emotional.

Even the smallest mention of Micah leaving home or starting a new Chapter in his life was enough to make his father’s eyes redden, his voice crack, and his composure crumble in ways that Micah did not quite know how to handle. The first time it had happened, Micah had been completely at a loss, unsure whether to comfort him, tease him, or pretend not to notice.

In the end, he had done none of those things particularly well. And more than that, there was the matter of appearances.

Jacob had spent years building a certain image, a certain presence in front of others. Allowing that carefully constructed persona to shatter in the middle of such a public event was not something Micah could bring himself to do.

Then there was the other problem. If he asked Albert Ramsy to stand in, Louis Palmer would feel slighted. If he chose Louis, Albert would not be pleased.

There was no winning that situation. So instead, Micah had made the decision himself. They would skip that part entirely. No handover. No symbolic questioning.

Just the exchange of rings, the ceremonial wine, and Clyde’s speech. Simple and Direct. And far less likely to cause emotional chaos.

Still, standing there now, waiting for the next part to begin, Micah felt his fingers tremble slightly despite himself.

A small, irrational part of him could not shake the feeling that something might go wrong at the last second. That the doors behind them might suddenly open again, that an unwelcome figure might step through and disrupt everything.

His gaze flickered briefly toward the entrance before he forced himself to look forward again.

Nothing happened. The moment held.

Beside him, Clyde gently adjusted his grip, then released one of Micah’s hands, stepping slightly forward as he turned to face him fully.

He took both of Micah’s hands into his own, his expression softening in a way that made the surrounding noise seem to fade into the background.

When he spoke, his voice carried clearly, steadily, and sincerely.

"Micah Ramsy," Clyde began, a faint smile touching his lips, "from the very first time I saw you, I was completely drawn to you."

There was a quiet ripple through the crowd, but Clyde did not falter.

"It wasn’t just because you were ridiculously good-looking," he continued, his tone lightening just enough to draw a soft chuckle from a few listeners. "Although, I’m not going to pretend that it did not help."

Micah blinked, caught off guard for a split second.

Clyde’s gaze softened further. "It was everything else," he went on. "Your smile. The way you always look like you are about to cause trouble. The way your eyes light up when you are thinking of something mischievous. And more than anything..." His voice lowered slightly. "Your kindness."

Micah’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

"You might not even realise it yourself," Clyde said, his thumb brushing lightly over Micah’s knuckles. "But you have one of the kindest hearts I have ever seen. And somehow, you always end up giving that kindness to people without realising it."

A faint murmur moved through the audience again.

"I was not in a good place when I met you," Clyde admitted. "I was just... drifting. Going through the motions, not really caring where I ended up. Everything felt cold, distant, and pointless."

He paused briefly, his gaze steady on Micah.

"And then you showed up," he said softly. "You dragged me out of that, whether you meant to or not. You made things feel... real again."

Micah swallowed, his earlier tension slowly giving way to something warmer, something far more dangerous to his composure.

"I honestly can’t imagine what my life would look like if I had never met you," Clyde continued. "And I don’t want to find out."

There was no hesitation in his next words.

"So, in front of everyone here... your family, your friends..." He took a slow breath. "Micah Ramsy, will you give me the honour and spend the rest of your life with me?"

For a brief moment, everything seemed to still. Then Clyde reached into his pocket and brought out a small box. Inside was a ring.

At first glance, it resembled the one he had given Micah before. However, this one held a different gemstone, a warm hazel colour that seemed to catch the light in a way that felt almost alive.

Micah instinctively glanced down at his own hand.

The ring he was already wearing gleamed softly, its blue gemstone reflecting the ambient light, so similar to Clyde’s eyes that the comparison felt almost intentional.

He looked back up, confusion flickering across his face. But even so, he did not hesitate. "Yes," Micah said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Gladly so!"

Clyde’s smile deepened. Carefully, he took Micah’s hand and slid the new ring into place, positioning it beside the one already there.

The moment the two rings touched, something unexpected happened. There was a faint, almost imperceptible click.

Micah’s eyes widened.

The two rings aligned perfectly, fitting together as though they had always been meant to form a single piece. The blue and hazel gemstones sat side by side, their colours contrasting yet complementing one another in a way that felt deliberate.

Complete. That was the only word that came to mind.

Micah stared at his hand for a second longer than he probably should have, something deep in his chest tightening unexpectedly.

It felt... symbolic.As though there was no separating them now.

As though this was it. For real.

The sound of applause broke through his thoughts.

It started small, then grew louder, swelling into a full wave of clapping, laughter, and even a few emotional sniffles scattered throughout the hall.

Someone cheered. Someone else laughed.

The atmosphere shifted into something warmer, brighter.

Micah’s lips curved upward despite himself, his eyes crinkling slightly as the tension finally melted away.

Soon after, the ceremonial wine was brought forward.

Following tradition, they linked their arms together, their elbows brushing as they lifted the cups in unison.

The gesture was simple, yet intimate.

They drank at the same time, the movement synchronised, drawing another round of applause and lighthearted laughter from the crowd.

Afterwards, the formalities gave way to celebration.

They moved from table to table, accepting toasts, exchanging greetings, and enduring an endless stream of well-wishes.

Micah, despite his earlier resolve to remain composed, found himself drinking more than he probably should have. His cheeks gradually flushed, a faint warmth spreading across his face.

Most of the time, Clyde quietly took the drinks meant for him, finishing them instead without drawing attention.

Still, Micah managed to sneak in more than enough.

By the time they reached Darcy’s table, his steps had slowed slightly, his posture loosening.

Clyde guided him gently into a seat beside Darcy before stepping away to continue the remaining formalities.

Micah sank into the chair, a slightly dazed smile lingering on his face.

Darcy glanced at him, then wordlessly handed him a glass of water.

"Why did you even drink that much?" Darcy asked, his tone carrying a hint of disapproval. "Did you forget your stomach has been acting up lately?"

Micah waved a hand dismissively, his movements a little loose.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Stop nagging. It’s not like I get engaged every day. I wanted to enjoy it." He smirked faintly. "Even Clyde could not stop me."

Darcy sighed quietly. "If you start feeling unwell, tell me immediately," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Micah replied, nodding absentmindedly as he reached for a pastry and popped it into his mouth.

He chewed for a moment, then glanced sideways at Darcy. "Why are you sitting here alone?" he asked.

Darcy, who had been in the middle of cutting into a steak, paused briefly. Then he finished slicing a piece and placed the plate in front of Micah. "Eat," he said simply.

Micah narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. "That’s not what I asked," he said. "Did someone say something to you?"

Darcy shook his head. "No," he replied. "I just got tired of people constantly trying to talk to me, asking questions, and setting me up with someone."

Micah snorted softly as he picked up his fork and took a bite of the steak. "Well," he said between bites, "if you’d brought a date, that wouldn’t have happened."

Darcy did not respond immediately.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward a distant corner of the hall, his expression shifting, something darker settling briefly in his eyes.

Micah noticed instantly. He followed Darcy’s line of sight, scanning the area.

But he could not find anything out of place. Still, something was clearly amiss with Darcy’s gaze.