Chapter Twenty-Nine: You. Me. Us..

Felicity's POV.

There are moments that sneak up on you. Quietly. Gently. Moments you don't see coming until they've wrapped themselves around your heart and refused to let go. This—this was one of them.

After the whirlwind of matriculation—the speeches, the applause, the proud parents, the students screaming like they'd just been knighted—we finally stepped out into the open quad. The sun was warm and golden, the grass carried the faintest scent of rain and secrets, and the breeze felt like it was in on something I hadn't quite figured out yet.

Oxford had never looked more alive. The quad buzzed with laughter and flashing cameras. Students tripped over their robes, took blurry selfies, shouted each other's names like it was the last day of high school instead of the start of something new. But none of it held my attention.

You'd think that after an official ceremony, after walking beside Christopher—who somehow managed to make a stiff academic robe look like high fashion—I'd be ready to collapse into a quiet corner and nap. Nope. I was electric. Wide awake. Glowing on the inside and trying not to show it on the outside.

Penelope disappeared with someone's camera. Probably off staging a photo shoot that would "accidentally" go viral. Mia disappeared with someone's attention—of course. That girl could flirt with a tree if it had enough branches.

And Christopher? He was still beside me. Still holding my hand like it belonged there.

Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe it was the rush of everything—the ceremony, the noise, the flash of cameras. Maybe it was the way Christopher reached for my hand just before we were swallowed up by parents and professors and overexcited freshers with phones. Or maybe… It was just him.

Because the moment his fingers brushed against mine, something inside me short-circuited. My heart started doing Olympic flips like it was trying to win a gold medal in falling too fast. He didn't say much. He didn't have to.

He was still in his sub-fusc—looking like the poster boy for dark academia—with his dark hair a little too perfectly styled, and lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words yet. And I couldn't stop staring.

Every time our hands touched, even slightly, it felt like my skin remembered something my brain hadn't caught up with yet.

It wasn't just the ceremony that made today feel important. It was this. Him. Us.

He leaned in, close enough for me to smell his cologne—clean, expensive, and dangerously distracting.

"Your Smartness," he whispered with a mischievous glint in his eye, "may I steal you away before we get trampled by overachievers and their Instagram captions?"

I laughed, squeezing his hand. "Lead the way, Royal Sass."

We slipped through the crowd like we had a secret to keep, dodging camera flashes, hugging classmates, and ignoring the chaos around us.

"Felicity," he said, his voice dropping just enough to send a chill down my spine, "you survived your first Oxford ceremony without fainting. I'm honestly impressed."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Please. I was practically born in a robe."

"Yeah, a bathrobe maybe," Christopher teased with a smirk.

I gave him a light elbow to the side. "Rude."

He chuckled, hands raised in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm kidding. You looked… stunning."

My heart stuttered. He added softly, "You honestly look like someone who just won an Oscar."

I blushed—and then immediately hated that I blushed. Of course he noticed. Christopher noticed everything.

To cover it up, I flipped my curls over my shoulder like I was on a red carpet. "I'd like to thank the Academy... and my mother's legendary cheekbones," I said dramatically.

He laughed—full and real. The kind of laugh that made people turn their heads. And I... I melted.

It was soft and deep, the kind of laugh that wrapped around me like a hug. Something inside me flipped—maybe my heart, maybe my stomach, maybe both. I didn't care. It felt good. And in that moment, I swear, the Oxford sunlight hit him just right—lighting up his face like a spotlight had followed him straight from a fairy tale.

We ran. I mean—we ran. Across the quad, through a side path, past a statue of some important Oxford man who looked deeply disappointed in our joy. We finally ducked behind one of the stone arches, breathless and laughing.

Christopher bent over, catching his breath. "Tell me again—why are we hiding behind a gargoyle?"

"Because I'm allergic to group pictures," I said, panting. "And Mia's heels are certified weapons. I'm not risking my ankles for her stilettos."

That made him laugh—his full-on, crinkle-eyed, melt-your-spine kind of laugh. He straightened up, brushing a curl from my face, eyes locking onto mine, still catching his breath.

"You look…" he began, voice soft. "You look like everything I didn't know I was hoping to find."

I blushed. "Oh please," I said, waving him off with a breathless smile. "Don't go all prince-poetic on me now."

"Too late." He stepped closer, that playful grin still there but softer now. "Felicity, I—"

"CHRISTOPHER!" Mia's voice crashed into the moment like a marching band in a library.

We both winced. I peeked over the stone ledge. Yep. Mia. In full runway mode. Strutting across the quad like she owned the entire city. Her heels hit the pavement like she meant business. Hair bouncing. And of course, glaring directly at us.

"Should we pretend to be statues?" I whispered.

"We already are," he muttered. "Stone cold busted."

She approached, arms folded like she was preparing to issue a fine.

"There you are," she huffed, dramatic as ever. "I've been searching everywhere." she said with a sharp smile.

"For what? A personality? Or your soul?" I muttered—too low for her to hear, but loud enough for Chris to stifle a laugh.

He turned to her smoothly. "We just needed some air. "It's been a bit overwhelming.

Matriculation is exhausting, isn't not?"

"Yes. And it's also the perfect time for couples to take meaningful pictures," she said, looping her arm through his. "Shall we?"

I blinked. "Couples?"

Chris stiffened beside me.

"Oh relax," Mia said with a too-sweet smile, adjusting her robe. "I just meant you and me. We're still engaged, aren't we? You haven't called it off yet. You are still my fiance".

The words sliced through the moment like ice water. But she didn't wait for an answer—she pulled him back toward the chaos.

He glanced back at me helplessly, mouthing, "Help."

I sighed dramatically and waved him off. "Try not to get kidnapped. If she gets too close, start quoting your father's laws."

He mouthed, already planning to.

And then he was gone.

I slowly wandered to the quieter side of the quad, where the noise from the crowd faded behind the old stone buildings. I could still hear laughter in the distance, the sound of phones snapping pictures—but over here, it felt like another world. Calm. Safe. Like a secret space made just for us. A few minutes later, we found each other again, both quietly slipping away from Mia like shadows. But with him next to me, everything else disappeared. It felt like we were in our own little world.

"Remember our first week here?" Chris asked, walking beside me.

I nodded. "Do we have to bring that up? I was so nervous."

"You were still the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. You were adorable," he chuckled.

"And awkward."

"Still adorable."

I looked up at him, the sunlight catching in his eyes—those warm, ocean-blue eyes that always saw right through me.

"You're seriously bad for my ego, Your Highness," I said, smirking.

"Good. Someone's got to keep you humble," he scoffed, but there was a soft smile tugging at his lips.

I covered my face with one hand. "You're ridiculous."

But something warm bloomed in my chest.

He smiled down at me. "I mean it."

And then—I said it.

"I can't believe I'm in love with you."

Wait—what?! My heart stopped. My eyes widened. Did I say that out loud?! His eyes widened slightly and froze.

"You said—" he started.

"I said I'm... cold!" I blurted. "I said I'm cold!"

Christopher squinted. "Right. Cold."

Smooth, Felicity. Really smooth. And then, just like a fairytale, the moment melted into a kind of peace I didn't know I needed. He reached for my hand anyway, gently lacing our fingers.

"Come on, let's hurry and take pictures," he said. "Before Penelope comes after us with her selfie stick or Mia spots us."

We walked toward the Radcliffe Camera, where the golden sunlight made everything look like a dream. The crowd had started to thin out, and for a brief moment, it felt like the whole world belonged to just us.