ines stared back, a quiet promise amid the storm of her life. She was pregnant. A wave of hope surged through her, mingling with
echoed with a child's laughter, where her designs graced runways
mind, a cage tightening around her dreams. Still, she clung to hope. Maybe
of Cocody's warmth against Paris's sterile elegance. She moved to the kitchen, brewing coffee, the scent a small c
You're up early," he said, his tone clipped. He glanced at the coffee.
, I need to tell you something." Her voice
ughed, a sharp bitter sound that made her flinch. "Pregnant? Now?" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "You th
uring. "I thought... we wanted this," she w
. "You can't even manage yourself! You're late to dinners, cooking that market foo
e a shard of her broken dream. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let him see
r pressure, and you're making it worse." He grabbed his briefcase, slamming it on the cou
that strength now. Pulling her sketchbook from the drawer, she flipped to a new page, her pencil tracing a dress with soft curves; a gown for a mother, inspired by the Seine's ge
: Are you up? Almost instantly, her phone buzzed with an incoming video call, Yasm
What's going on?" Her voice was firm, her charm giving way to sisterly conc
ivier's outburst, the fear gnawing at her. But the words wouldn't come. "It's
I'm not the only one. I will speak to Maman about this." She soften
her room and walked down the hall to their mother's room, where Awa sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. "Maman, it's Ariane," Yasmine
ghter. "I've been feeling it too, Yasmine. She's far away, and we've neve
Olivier's control. She longed for Abidjan's zouglou beats, the laughter of Cocody's markets, and t
e growled, tossing his briefcase onto the sofa. His eyes locked on Ariane, who stood near
he started, but his voice c
ittering on the floor like her broken hopes. Ariane gasped, stepping back, her hands shielding her stomach as fe