The house was charming, surrounded by blooming flowers and lush greenery. Antoine’s parents, Pierre and Marie, greeted us warmly. “Bienvenue!” Marie said, hugging me. She was petite with bright eyes and a warm smile. “Welcome to our home,” Pierre added, shaking my hand firmly. He was tall with a kind face.They seemed kind and welcoming. I was relieved. Their home was stunning. The old stone walls and the garden made it look like a postcard. Inside, it was cozy and full of character.
I felt a little more at ease. “Your home is beautiful,” I said, admiring the decor. “Thank you,” Marie replied. “We’re happy you like it.” The dinner table was lively with conversation. The food was incredible—rich French dishes that I couldn’t get enough of. Antoine and his parents spoke a mix of English and French. “So, tell us about yourself,” Pierre asked. I took a deep breath and shared a bit about my life. “I work as a graphic designer. I love creating art and helping clients bring their visions to life. In my free time, I enjoy hiking and photography.
Capturing the beauty of nature is one of my passions.”They listened intently, nodding and smiling. Marie seemed especially interested. “That sounds wonderful. Do you have any favorite places to hike?” “Yes,” I replied, warming up to the conversation. “There’s a beautiful trail near my hometown with stunning views. I also love visiting national parks whenever I can.” Pierre smiled. “It’s always nice to meet someone with such a passion for nature.” Their genuine interest made me feel more comfortable. The conversation flowed easily, and I started to relax, feeling a sense of belonging despite the initial nervousness. “I’ll be right back,” Antoine said, excusing himself to the bathroom.
I smiled at Pierre and Marie, trying to maintain the pleasant atmosphere. They smiled back, then started speaking in French, assuming I couldn’t understand. “Elle est gentille, mais je ne suis pas sûr qu’elle soit la bonne pour Antoine,” Pierre said.My face went pale. They were discussing whether I was right for Antoine. “Nous devons nous assurer qu’elle ne découvre pas notre secret,” Marie replied. My heart raced. What secret? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I understood every word. They were talking about something hidden in Antoine’s childhood room. “L’objet est toujours sous le lit,” Pierre said. “Nous devons le récupérer avant qu’Antoine ne le trouve.” My hands started to shake. They had hidden something under Antoine’s bed, something they didn’t want him to find. When Antoine returned, I grabbed his hand. “Go upstairs and check under your bed in your childhood room. Trust me.” He looked confused but nodded. “Excuse me,” he said to his parents, leaving the table.I felt dizzy and cold. My mind was racing. What were they hiding? Why didn’t they want Antoine to find it? I stood up, but the room started to spin. I could hear Pierre and Marie calling my name, but their voices sounded distant. “Are you okay?” Marie asked, reaching out to steady me. Everything went black.
I woke up in a hospital bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of medical equipment. Antoine sat beside me, his eyes red from crying, his hand holding mine tightly. “Thank God you’re awake,” he whispered, his voice shaky. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my head made me wince. “What happened?” I asked, my throat dry and raspy. “You fainted during dinner,” Antoine said, gently squeezing my hand. “The doctors said it was a combination of stress and low blood sugar. But more importantly, what you told me… I went upstairs and checked under the bed. I found it.”My heart raced as I recalled the conversation I overheard. “What did you find?” I asked. Antoine looked around to make sure we were alone before leaning in closer. “It was a small wooden box, locked. I managed to pick the lock open, and inside… there were old letters, photographs, and… a journal. It was written by my mother.” He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. “In the journal, she wrote about a family secret, something she and my father had been hiding from me. It turns out, my real mother wasn’t Marie. My biological mother was someone else entirely. She had an affair with my father, and when I was born, Marie agreed to raise me as her own to save the family’s reputation.” I felt a chill run down my spine. “Why would they keep that from you?” I asked, shocked. Antoine shook his head. “I’m not sure. But there’s more. The journal also mentioned a substantial inheritance left by my biological mother. It was hidden away, meant for me once I turned 30. But my parents, Pierre and Marie, had been trying to find it and keep it for themselves.”The weight of the revelation hung heavy in the air. “What are you going to do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Antoine sighed. “I don’t know yet.
I need to confront them, but I want to do it carefully. If they’ve been hiding this from me my entire life, who knows what else they’re capable of?” I reached out and touched his face gently. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.” He nodded, a look of determination in his eyes. “Yes, together.” We spent the next few days in the hospital, talking and planning. Antoine shared more details from the journal, and we discussed our options. We decided to keep the information to ourselves for now and to observe his parents’ actions. “We need to see if they reveal anything else,” Antoine said. “If they suspect I know the truth, they might become even more secretive or destructive. I’m 31 already anyway, and my lawyer knows that.” I agreed. “It’s best to be cautious. We can’t let them know we’re onto them.” Reflecting on our emotional journey from meeting Antoine’s parents to uncovering the family secret, I felt a mix of emotions. It was overwhelming, but with Antoine by my side, I knew we could handle it. “We’ve been through so much already,” I said, squeezing his hand. “But we’re stronger together.” Antoine smiled, his eyes full of determination. “We’ll uncover the truth and secure what’s rightfully mine. And we’ll do it together. I have a plan.” Leaving the hospital, we felt a renewed sense of purpose.
The road ahead would be challenging, but our relationship had never been stronger. We were united, ready to face whatever came next. As we drove back to Antoine’s parents’ house, I looked at him and smiled. “No matter what happens, we’ve got this.” He smiled back, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Yes, we do. Together.” With that, we continued our journey, knowing that our love and solidarity would see us through the challenges ahead.
