Chapter 2 Chapitre 2

The door opened even before she raised her hand to strike.

Camille froze.

Faced with her, a man whom she had never seen detailed her with disturbing intensity. Large, the massive build under a black shirt, it did not seem surprised by its presence.

- You are finally here, he said in a hoarse voice.

She instinctively hugged the handle of her suitcase.

- Who are you ?

A smile stretches his lips, something barely perceptible, too calculated to be sincere.

- Mathias.

No other explanation. No details on his role here.

A thrill crossed the spine.

Before she had time to ask another question, steps resonated behind him.

- Let her enter.

Bastien's voice was calm, but she didn't admit any discussion. Mathias Recula and Camille crossed the threshold, the strange impression of spending an invisible course.

Inside, everything breathed intimidating opulence. Each piece of furniture, each detail seemed to have been chosen with care, without giving a welcoming warmth.

She felt Bastien's gaze on her, awaiting her reaction.

- It's ... big, she said finally.

- And it will be with you for a moment.

Something in her voice troubled her. There was not only authority, but also a more serious, more personal note.

- Do you want to see your room?

She nodded.

He motioned to follow him upstairs. By climbing the steps, she felt Mathias always posted in the entrance, observing each of her movements.

When they arrived in front of a door, Bastien opened him and moved.

- It's here.

Camille entered and stopped net.

She expected a friends, something elegant but impersonal. What she discovered was quite different.

The furniture, the sheets, every detail seemed to have been thought of for her. A dress she did not know was placed on the bed, its exact size.

She turned to him.

- How...

- I make sure that my guests lack nothing.

She folds her eyes.

- It's more than that.

A silence settled.

- Why me, Bastien?

He didn't answer right away. He approached slowly, so far as to reduce the distance between them to an almost disturbing limit.

- Because I couldn't choose someone else.

His heart missed a beat.

The clock beats resounded in the room, as if to emphasize the suspended moment.

Camille took a step back.

- Alright. I'm going to settle down.

She expected him to insist, that he digs this nascent tension between them. But he back down in turn and simply nodded.

- Go down when you are ready.

He took out and closed the door behind him.

She inspired deeply, placing a hand on her belly as if to calm the inner storm.

Something was playing here.

And she was not sure that she was ready to face the consequences. Camille descended the steps carefully, the polished wood of the large staircase making no noise under his steps. The heavy atmosphere of the house surrounded him as an invisible presence, something that she could not name but which was very real.

She found him in the living room, standing near the bay window, her arms crossed. He seemed to observe the outside with a silent intensity, as if he were elsewhere, far from this room, far from her.

She clears her throat.

- I am installed.

No immediate reaction. A long silence. Then, finally, he pivoted slightly, his steel gaze piercing her.

- GOOD.

Just that. Nothing more.

She expected a word, an indication, something to break this deaf tension between them. But Bastien offered nothing.

- You plan to explain to me why I'm here? she asked, crossing her arms.

- I've already told you.

- No. You gave me rules. It's not the same.

He sighed, as if she were a nuisance he would have preferred to do without.

- You are not ready to hear the truth.

- And are you too loose to tell me?

A flash passed through his gaze. A shadow of anger, fleeting but undeniable.

- You don't know me, Camille.

She supported her gaze, refusing to let herself be intimidated.

- Maybe not. But I can recognize a man behind his wounds.

A joyless laugh escaped from his lips.

- And you ? Do you think you are different?

She opened her mouth, ready to reply, but he didn't leave her the opportunity.

- Do you think I'm hard with you? That I hold you at a distance without reason?

He approached a step, reducing the space between them, and she felt something inexplicable vibrate in the air.

- If I do, it's for a reason, Camille. Because if I let you enter ...

He stopped, his jaw tense, as if he was fighting against his own words.

She swallows, a strange weight weighing on her chest.

- If you let me enter, what? she whispered.

His gaze darkens.

- You wouldn't understand.

She felt a thrill through it. It was not fear. It was something else. Something deeper, more uncontrollable.

- Try me, she whispered.

Bastien fixed it for a more moment, then he turned away suddenly.

- This is not an option.

He walked away, leaving her alone in the middle of the living room, a bitter taste on the tongue.

She did not yet understand what was playing here.

But one thing was certain.

Bastien hid a secret. A secret that could change everything. The door of the large hall opened with a slight creak, and Camille entered the dining room. The candlesticks shone with a cold light, and the immense dark wooden table seemed to be infinitely extended. Bastien was already there, his gaze plunged into a wine cup, the expression marked by a tension that she could not grasp.

- Did you expect me? she asked, in mid-voice.

He did not respond immediately, his remaining gaze fixed on the dark red in his glass. Then, slowly, he looked up at her.

- Not exactly.

She approached, hesitating for a moment to take place. The idea of this dinner, which was supposed to be a simple exchange between two adults, suddenly seemed heavier than she had imagined.

When she finally sat down, he made no gesture to greet her other than by a stealthy look, as if she were a simple shadow in her space.

The first minutes passed through a heavy silence. No word, no gesture, nothing. Camille began to eat, but each bite seemed stuck in her throat, as if the very air of the room stifled him.

- You made me understand that you were not here to eat, says Bastien, finally breaking the silence.

The cold, dry tone did not give way to any confusion.

- You know what I think of this kind of situation, she replied, her voice harder than she would have liked. All that seems a little too much ... prepared.

He stared at her, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

- Prepared ? It's you who invited yourself to this world, Camille. Don't forget that.

She looked at him, tight jaws, the desire to answer him almost unbearablely. But she abstained, choosing to let the words mature in her mind before letting them out.

- I didn't ask to come here. I did not ask that my life was turned upside down.

The words came more easily than expected, carried by a frustration that it had not anticipated.

Bastien does not react, continuing to play with his glass, his remote look. But she could feel the tension, as dense and threatening as a storm at sea.

- And you really think you can understand what it is, be in my position? He asked, his voice becoming more serious, as if each word was in charge of a story that he did not want to tell.

She straightened up in her chair, a shiver of challenge browsing her veins.

- I do not pretend to understand, but I know what it is to be taken in strengths that go beyond you.

He let go of a dry laugh, without joy.

- Really ? And what do you think you know of me, Camille?

He now looked at her with a new intensity, something darker, almost threatening. She felt an icy chill browse her spine, but she did not be flexible.

- I know you hide behind walls. Walls that you built to protect yourself, but also to prevent anyone from seeing what you really are.

Bastien's gaze darkens more.

- And you, Camille? What are you hiding?

The challenge in her voice touched her more than she would have liked. She looked down, the question striking her like a punch. She did not want to think about what she hid, did not want to admit that she too, to some extent, was protecting herself.

- Now is not the time to talk about this, she replied, rejected quickly.

Heavy silence settled again. Bastien rose suddenly, the chair creaking on the ground. He headed for the window, the air lost in his thoughts.

- You think I'm like you, he said after a moment, with the cold and sharp voice. But you have no idea what it is to have a burden that no one can understand.

He turned suddenly to her, and his gaze made her shiver.

- People like you, Camille, they don't know what it is to live with a truth that they can never share.

She got up in turn, her look defying.

- You talk about yourself as if you were a monster.

The words left her lips before she could hold them back.

He stared at her for a moment, before slowly shaking his head, as if his own suffering prevented him from responding. But at the bottom of her eyes, she saw a glow of... regret?

He advanced a step closer to her.

- You know, it's not that simple. But you are not ready to understand.

She felt the distance between them stretching and closing at the same time, like an invisible trap. The tension was unbearable.

She shrugged her shoulders, as if to dispel this heaviness, but each gesture seemed to be perceived as a challenge. He got closer, almost too close, until his breath caresses his skin.

- And you, do you think you are ready? He asked, his softer tone, but always tinged with this coldness that accompanied him everywhere.

She looked at him, uncertain, but ready to do anything to break this silence between them. She no longer wanted this ambiguity.

- I don't know. But I'm here, Bastien.

He finally got back, his gaze being harder, more distant.

- You are here. Yes, that's all you know. But there is nothing simple in this world. Nothing easy.

She looked down, suddenly feeling alone in the middle of this disproportionate piece.

He turned his back, heading towards the door.

- It's not a dinner, Camille. It's a silent war.

He stopped just before leaving the room, throwing a last look towards her.

- And you're not ready to face this.

The door closed in a thud, leaving Camille alone, heavy heart and disorderly thoughts. She hadn't understood what was going on here, nor why everything seemed so difficult. But one thing was certain: she did not intend to give in.

Not now. Not after all he had just told him.