The next day was Sunday.
Aïnis had slept poorly. Not long. A fragmented sleep, filled with voices, lights, announcements she would have preferred to forget. By the time she finally dozed off, the dawn was already well advanced.
She woke up around noon.
The manor had regained its usual silence, almost unreal after yesterday's excess. The hallways felt too large, too empty. Her friends were still asleep, scattered in the guest rooms—remnants of a party that had left behind quiet laughter and heels abandoned near the doors.
Aïnis stayed lying there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
Her body was heavy.
Her mind refused to rest.
Eighteen.
And already under control.
She turned to her side, grabbed her phone, then put it down without turning it on. For once, she didn't feel like talking to anyone.
At Blake's Place
Blake had left the Morel estate long before the house began to wake up.
The road to his home was familiar. Too familiar. As soon as he stepped inside the small house, he barely had time to close the door.
— Hans!
Miché almost jumped on him, arms wrapped around his waist.
— You're back! Jasmine, Hans is here!
Jasmine appeared immediately, surprised, her hair hastily tied back.
— Hans? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to start your new job today?
Blake set down his bag and offered a small smile.
— I was. But the young lady was still sleeping. I thought I could drop by… before everything changes.
Jasmine understood immediately. She didn't ask unnecessary questions.
— Don't worry. We know it's important. It's just temporary.
— And we can manage, added Miché seriously. Grandma's here.
Blake nodded.
— Where is she, by the way?
— Gone to pray. She won't be long.
Jasmine placed a hand on his arm.
— Come eat something with us.
He accepted.
They sat around the table. The smell of hot coffee and toasted bread… everything tasted like one last normal moment. Blake spoke little. He observed. He memorized.
Blake was only a nickname.
His real name was Hans Blakester.
After breakfast, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of bills, placing them in the center of the table.
Silence fell.
— Hans… Miché breathed. That's too much.
— It's an advance, Blake said calmly. For clothes. Food. School. Manage it however you want.
— And you? asked Jasmine.
Blake shrugged slightly.
— I won't need much. I'll be too busy watching someone else to think about myself.
Jasmine hesitated, then smiled faintly.
— Then give us your number. We'll get a new phone. We'll stay in touch.
He scribbled his number on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
At that moment, the door opened.
— Blake?
His grandmother stepped in. Small, bent, but with a sharp gaze. Jade. The one who had kept everything standing when everything else had fallen. The one who now watched over Miché and Jasmine while he did what he did best: protect.
— Yes, grandma. I came to see you.
— You're leaving already?
— Yes.
She approached, took his hands.
— Have you eaten?
— Yes.
— Then take care of yourself, my dear. Don't run too fast.
He kissed her forehead.
— I'll be back.
He left without looking back.
At the Manor
Aïnis was still dozing when her phone vibrated.
Ivan.
She answered without thinking.
— You're calling today?
— Sorry… I should have called yesterday.
— Really?
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
— I was busy…
— You're always busy, Ivan.
A pause.
— Your gift will arrive in a week.
— I hope it's not a ridiculous t-shirt.
He chuckled softly.
— No. I made an effort this time.
Aïnis closed her eyes.
— I miss Mom.
The laughter faded.
— Me too.
Then, lighter:
— Tomorrow is your first day at university. A new life.
— I know. I intend to reign.
— Of course.
— Will we call each other?
— I promise.
He hung up.
Aïnis remained motionless, the phone pressed to her chest.
Tomorrow, university.
Tomorrow, the eyes.
Tomorrow, surveillance.
She inhaled deeply.
This calm was only an illusion.
And she already knew:
nothing would ever be simple again.