But this kind of vulnerability? This kind of exposed emotional position?
That could destroy you in ways physical damage never could.
The rest of the visit blurred into emotional haze that I couldn't fully process.
I heard words but didn't properly absorb them. Just stood there like a statue or a sentinel, watching Ella discover in real-time that she was an aunt. Watching her grief transform into something active and purposeful and fierce. Watching her fall in love with a child she'd only just met but who carried her sister's eyes and smile.
When Sabine started getting fidgety—climbing on furniture, asking rapid questions in French I only partially understood, clearly ready for her normal day to start—Étienne glanced at the clock mounted on the kitchen wall.
"I should take her to school," he said apologetically, hand settling protectively on Sabine's small shoulder. "She'll be late. Her teacher is strict about timing."
I saw the hesitation in Ella immediately.
Saw it in the way her entire body went rigid. The way her hand lifted slightly toward Sabine before she consciously caught herself and forced it back down.
Like she wanted to physically make them stay. Make them promise not to disappear. Like if she let them walk out that door now, they might vanish the way her sister had—suddenly, permanently, without warning or explanation.
But she said her quiet goodbyes with visible effort and control.
"Can I come back later?" she asked, voice carefully steady despite the emotion underneath. "Maybe bring dinner? I'd like to ... spend more time with you both. Get to know Sabine. If that's okay."
Étienne smiled then, something genuine breaking through the grief that had settled permanently into his features. "I like to cook. It helps me think. If you can help, I would love to host properly. There are many things we should discuss. About Rose. About Sabine. About what happens now. About the future."
The future.
The word hung in the air with weight.
Ella hugged him then. A real, full embrace. The kind that saidI see your pain and I share it and we're in this together now whether we planned it or not.
When she pulled back, Sabine wrapped herself around Ella's legs without warning, giggling when Ella bent down to hug her back properly.
The sound—pure, innocent, joyful, untouched by adult complications—cut through me like a blade I hadn't seen coming.
We left.
Walking down the stairs together. Out into Paris streets that felt somehow different than they had an hour ago.
The silence between us was thick and heavy with everything neither of us knew how to articulate or process.
I was still scanning everything automatically despite the emotional overload.
Every face in the crowd. Every car that passed too slowly or appeared more than once. Every person who looked at us a second too long or with too much interest.
Old habits. Survival instincts I couldn't turn off even when I desperately wanted to. Even when they felt inappropriate for the moment.
But underneath the tactical awareness, my heart still beat with that same overwhelming feeling from the apartment. That same emotion I couldn't name. That same magnetic pull toward Ella that had nothing to do with protection or tactics and everything to do with something I'd never let myself want before.
It was deep. Oppressive. Consuming.
All I wanted was to hold her. Pull her close and never let go. Promise her things I had absolutely no business promising to anyone.
When we stepped onto the train and found seats tucked in the corner away from other passengers, she wordlessly grabbed my hand and pulled it into her lap.
Held it there with both of hers like a lifeline. Like I was the only solid, real thing in a world that had just shifted completely beneath her feet.
No words. Not the whole trip back across Paris.
And I wasn't going to break the silence.
