The night of the launch, she dressed in her apartment, her hands trembling as she fastened a simple silver chain around her neck. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see a nervous librarian. She saw a woman in love, on the arm of the man who had changed her world.
When Luc came to pick her up, he stopped dead in the doorway, his jaw slightly agape.
“Élise,” he breathed, his voice full of awe.“You… you are breathtaking.”
He, in his charcoal suit with a silver tie that matched the threads in her dress, looked more handsome and solid than she had ever seen him. The storm in his eyes had been replaced by a steady, proud light.
He offered her his arm.“Ready?”
She took a deep breath, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.“Ready.”
As they approached the library, they saw it glowing from within, a jewel box of light and life. The sounds of a cultured crowd spilled out onto the quiet street. For a moment, Élise’s step faltered.
Luc stopped, turning to her. He didn’t say a word. He simply looked at her, his gaze conveying all his love, his pride, his gratitude. In that look, she found all the courage she needed.
She squeezed his arm.“Let’s go.”
They stepped through the oak door, together, into the light and the noise, ready to face their future. The suit and the dress were just fabric. The real armor was the unshakeable bond they wore beneath them.
Chapter 38:
The Launch
Stepping into the Bibliothèque Lafleur on the night of the launch was like stepping into a dream. The familiar space was transformed. Soft lighting illuminated the soaring shelves, making the gold-leaf on the spines of books gleam. The air, usually scented with paper and dust, was now filled with the murmur of well-dressed guests and the clink of champagne glasses. It was their sanctuary, filled with people, and yet it had never felt more intimately theirs.
Luc’s grip on Élise’s arm tightened as they were immediately swept into a current of congratulations. Editors, critics, and fellow authors approached, their eyes flickering with curiosity from Luc to the woman on his arm—the mysterious dedicatee.
Élise felt the scrutiny, a hundred tiny pinpricks of attention. But anchored by Luc’s solid presence, she found she could smile, nod, and offer a quiet“thank you” without her voice shaking. She was playing her part: the calm, supportive partner.
Then, Sophie Mercier clinked a glass and called for attention. Luc was guided to the small podium, a spotlight making him blink. He looked out over the crowd, a sea of expectant faces, and for a terrifying second, he seemed to freeze. His eyes scanned the room, searching.
They found Élise, standing near the history aisle, half in shadow.
His shoulders relaxed. He found his breath.
“Thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice, that familiar gravelly baritone, resonating in the hushed space.“You are standing in the heart of this book. These shelves, this silence… they are not just a setting. They are a character. They are the sanctuary where my protagonist, and indeed I, learned to listen.”
He spoke beautifully, eloquently, about the nature of silence and memory. But his eyes kept drifting back to Élise, as if drawing strength from her presence.
“A book is a solitary act,” he continued,“until it isn’t. It requires first readers, believers, advocates.” He thanked Sophie, his editors. And then his gaze fixed firmly on Élise, and the room seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.
“And most of all,” he said, his voice softening, thickening with emotion,“it requires a keeper of the silence. A person who understands that the space between words can be the most powerful part of the story. This book, and the man who wrote it, would be lost without you, Élise. You are my first reader, my best editor, and the love of my life. This night, this book, is as much yours as it is mine.”
A collective, soft sigh went through the crowd. Cameras flashed. But Élise saw none of it. She only saw him, his love for her shining brighter than any spotlight. The fear was gone, replaced by a swell of pride so immense it threatened to overflow.
He stepped down from the podium to sustained applause and made his way directly to her, ignoring the hands reaching out to congratulate him. He took both of her hands in his.
“You were magnificent,” she whispered.
“I meant every word,” he whispered back.
As he was pulled away to sign books, Élise stood alone for a moment, surrounded by the buzz of his success. She looked around at the library, at their story written in the very air. The launch wasn't an end. It was a beautiful, brilliant beginning. The world was reading their story now, but the best chapters, she knew, were still theirs alone to write.
Chapter 39:
The First Review
The morning after the launch, the library was restored to its natural state of quiet, the only evidence of the party a lingering scent of champagne and flowers. But the world outside was now buzzing. The first major review was published in Le Monde.
