The man held the rectangular certificate with his fingers, then with a swift turn, he tossed it over his shoulder, and a spark landed at the corner of the nearby curtain.
In an instant, the flames shot up.
The high-quality blackout curtains climbed up like a red fire snake, igniting along the wooden walls of the room.
The door was locked from the outside, and the floor-to-ceiling windows were made of sturdy bulletproof glass, trapping him inside, unable to escape.
When Omari decided to burn the marriage certificate, he had no intention of leaving.
He burst into hearty laughter, sounding as bright and carefree as a seventeen or eighteen-year-old lad, recalling the first time he met Cheyenne.
At thirteen, she appeared as fragile as an eight or nine-year-old girl, huddled under a cold bridge like an abandoned kitten.
He gave her a piece of clothing, not because he sympathized with her at such a young age, but because he felt that she, like himself, was homeless, so he found a trace of empathy in her.
Their paths crossed again, unexpectedly on the school campus.
She was much more beautiful than before, transforming into a completely different person. With just a little inquiry, it was known that she was a notorious gang leader in the vicinity.
Yet, it was that gang leader who hopped along the playground, clutching the back of her head with her hands, a dropped porny book from her uniform, symbolizing a young girl's initial fantasies about love.
At sixteen, on the streets of Metshire, she became stunning and confident.
She saved him, but didn't recognize him; yet Omari immediately recognized her as the girl he had been searching for.
Their meetings were brief, only two or three times, but she left a profound impression on him, one that he couldn't forget.
After returning to his home country, Omari began to nurture a bold and unwavering idea; he wanted her to become his lawful wife.
Yet, he never imagined he was too late and had missed out on her entire life.
He desperately wanted to ask Cheyenne, if time could be rewound, would she still choose Kelvin?
He longed to ask Cheyenne, if there was an afterlife, would the next version of her fall in love with him?
He wanted to tell Cheyenne, if he were to leave, she must never forget him!
Omari selfishly wished for Cheyenne to remember him for a lifetime, even if as friends...
"Cheyenne, I'm sorry. I'm breaking my promise."
"I had promised to take care of you for a lifetime..."
"But now, it's impossible."
"Cheyenne..."
"I love you!"
Seated gracefully amid the raging inferno, he closed his eyes with pride and elegance. The heat of the room engulfed him, akin to the purifying flames of hell, capable of consuming all the world's love, hate, passion, and grudges.
Meanwhile, due to Master Omari's wedding today, most of the servants in the mansion had been reassigned to the forest on the other side.
The ones left in the mansion were either the maids preparing meals in the kitchen or those who had returned suddenly to fetch something.
Coincidentally, the butler had instructed her to return for the dinnerware.
The maid hurried out of the kitchen and, as she passed through the hallway, felt something amiss. Why was there a significant amount of thick smoke coming from upstairs?
She couldn't help but cough a few times, covering her nose and mouth as she made her way upstairs, feeling unwell.
The thick white smoke in the hallway had intensified, obscuring everything, including the lights. Despite this, she pressed on, only to discover that the smoke was emanating from Master Omari's room.
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