CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE
You survived
The port was alive as always.
People moved along the dock in different directions, some carrying bags and boxes, others pulling small carts behind them. Workers shouted to one another as they loaded and unloaded goods from the boats. Engines rumbled across the water, occasionally drowning out the conversations around me.
A group of passengers stood near one of the boats, waiting to board. A little boy held tightly to his mother's hand while staring at the water with obvious curiosity. A man nearby was arguing with one of the workers about a crate that had apparently been placed on the wrong boat.
Someone laughed and another shouted. A boat horn sounded in the distance while water moved gently against the dock, making the boats rise and fall with the waves. I stood there and watched everything. Nothing had changed; the one person who had changed was me. The last time I was here, I was with my baby, and suddenly, the memory of discovering the truth about Kylian and France came rushing back. I closed my eyes tightly as I was once again pulled into the emotional turmoil that had consumed me that day.
I should have let you call Marcus that day like you wanted.
“Madame Bewa.”
The voice pulled me from my thoughts. I opened my eyes and found Frederick, one of the dock workers, standing before me with an uncertain smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Hello, Frederick,” I replied in French, and his face immediately lit up. He hurried toward me and greeted me the French way, kissing both my cheeks.
“It is so good to see you. It has been a while.”
“Yeah.” I managed a small smile. “It has been over a year. I hope you’ve been well.”
“I was worried when I stopped seeing you. I kept asking Madame Alice about you, but she never told me anything. Seeing you now…” His smile widened. “It makes me very happy.” Then his eyes dropped to my stomach, and a delighted laugh escaped him. “And I see you have your little one already. Félicitations!”
I smiled. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn't bring myself to take that beautiful smile from his face by telling him that there was no little one, and thankfully, he moved on.
“You want to go home?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“What to do? Your boat is not here. Alice almost never comes to shore,” he informed me. That is probably because no one lives in my house anymore.
“It is fine. I will rent a boat,” I stated, and the young man started walking away from me with his back to me.
“Alright, I will get you a boat.” I smiled, watching him walk away.
“You never told me parking here is for private clients.” I turned at the sound of Marcus’s voice and saw him walking toward me, swinging his car keys casually in one hand.
“Sorry,” I apologized, giving a small smile. “Were you able to park somewhere good?”
“Yeah, after paying a ridiculous price,” he complained, and I laughed, but the sound quickly faded. A heavy sigh escaped me as I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky.
“You okay?” he asked, and I shrugged, forcing a smile.
“The last time I was here…” My voice trailed off as I slowly placed a hand over my flat stomach. The gesture was instinctive. “I was with my baby. It was a terrible day for me.”
“Why?”
“I had just found out about Kylian’s betrayal.” I swallowed. “I was in a really bad place.” Marcus was quiet for a moment before speaking again.
“You know, you never told me what Kylian did.”
I smiled faintly. “I can’t. I signed an NDA.”
“But you told Dr. Berot.”
“Patient-doctor confidentiality.”
“I won’t tell, you know that.”
I just smiled at him and looked away, letting my eyes wander across the familiar surroundings. “I really wanted to call you that day and tell you everything.”
“Then why didn’t you?” he asked calmly. I took a slow breath.
“We were in a bad place ourselves. I had just broken your heart, if you can remember.” His expression changed, and he looked away, just as I had.
“But I shouldn’t have let that stop me,” I continued quietly. “I should have called. Maybe…” I paused. “Just maybe, things would be different now.” Before he could respond, I caught sight of Frederick waving eagerly at me from a short distance away.
“Let’s go,” I said, taking a step forward, but before I could take another, Marcus reached out and caught my hand, gently pulling me back.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.
“No,” I replied immediately. His brows furrowed.
“Then why?” He asked. “You are doing so good, you are finally in a good place. I don’t want you going back to the way you were before.”
I placed my hand gently on his hand. “I know, and I don’t want to go back myself. The last place I want to be right now is my house. I was my happiest in that house… and I was destroyed in that very house.” I swallowed, forcing myself to keep going.
“So no, I don’t want to go back, but if I want to completely move on, Dr. Berot said I need to revisit that part of my life, and frankly, I think she is right.” Marcus sighed heavily, his eyes still filled with concern.
“I am not alone, you know.” I gave him a soft smile as I gently patted his hand. “You are with me. I can do this with you by my side.”
“Alright.” He let me go.
The Seine stretched endlessly ahead, and I remained standing, my hands resting against the railing as the cool breeze brushed against my face. The familiar sound of the engine filled the silence around me, steady and almost comforting. I had crossed this river more times than I could remember, and I don’t think I will ever get enough of the view. Watching the sunlight scattered across its surface, breaking into little flashes whenever the boat moved over the gentle waves, was a view I would never get tired of.
I breathed in deeply. The air always felt different out here. Cleaner, I would say. And then I saw it come into view as the boat moved around the sharp curve of the rock.
My glass house.
I could swear my heart skipped a beat. The glass walls caught the afternoon sunlight, making the entire house shimmer against the water. From a distance, it almost looked as though it had been built from light itself—floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the blue of the Seine, the pale sky, and the surrounding greenery. It looked exactly the way I remembered.
Beautiful.
The boat moved steadily toward the shore, bringing the house closer with every passing second. I could make out the familiar outline of the balconies, the terrace overlooking the river, and the wide glass panels that allowed sunlight to flood almost every room.
I had loved this house. It was the dream. I kept staring. It didn't look like a place where something terrible had happened. Slowly, the boat came to a stop next to my own boat. Marcus stretched his hand out to me, and I took it. I got onto the wooden dock and looked up at my glass home.
“Welcome home, Bewaji,” I whispered to myself. I turned to Frederick, who had started the boat again to move out. “Please, can you wait for us to take us back?”
“But…” With a furrowed expression, Frederick opened his mouth halfway and looked at my boat. I could see the question he wanted to ask on his face, but instead he said, “Alright, I will wait.”
I nodded and began making my way up the rocky steps toward the house. Normally, I would have gone through the back door, but after what had happened the last time I entered through it, I couldn't bring myself to do it again. My feet refused to carry me that way.
You were asked to walk your last path in this house.
I ignored my nosy inner voice and instead, I walked around to the front. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my key. My fingers trembled slightly as I fitted it into the lock.
Walk your last path. That was the instruction.
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I stood there, fighting against myself. Every part of me wanted to defy her.
She would never know. No one would ever know.
But I would, and you would. What is worth doing is worth doing well.
“Is everything okay?” Marcus asked, concern immediately creeping into his voice.
“Yes.” I turned toward him, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “My tour doesn’t start here.”
“Alright. Where does it start?” I gave him no answer. I simply turned and walked around the house, each step carrying me closer to the back door. My heart began pounding harder with every passing second. Memories I had tried so desperately to bury stirred beneath the surface, clawing their way back into my mind.
When I finally reached the door, I stopped. For a moment, I couldn't move. I drew in a deep breath. Then another. And another, as though I could somehow breathe away the fear tightening around my chest. My hand trembled as I pulled the key from my pocket and slid it into the lock.
I hesitated, then I turned it. With a shaky exhale, I pushed against the door. It resisted for a moment before slowly giving way, and the familiar creak that followed sent a shiver through me. I stood there, staring into the darkness beyond the doorway. Everything inside me screamed not to go in. But I had come this far.
So, I stepped forward, and I could almost hear it again. The shouting, betrayal, Alice’s terrified scream. I could feel the same crushing pain beneath my ribs, the same weakness in my knees, the same cold terror that had swallowed me whole. I remembered falling, the blood. I remembered thinking…
I think… we are dying.
No.
I couldn't let that memory pull me under again. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. One breath. Then another. The house was silent now. No shouting. No blood. No one was dying.
You survived this.
We survived it.
Suddenly, something inside me broke—and then, strangely, loosened. I was standing in the place where my world had fallen apart, but I remained standing. The memories hurt. God, they hurt, but they no longer owned me. I swallowed hard and wiped the tears gathering in my eyes.
I went deeper into the house, and the moment Marcus pulled the door shut behind us, darkness swallowed us whole. He immediately opened it again, allowing a thin stream of daylight to spill across the floor. It wasn't enough. As we moved farther inside, the light from the back door slowly disappeared behind us, leaving us surrounded by shadows.
The house was unnaturally quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet I remembered, but the hollow silence of a place that had been abandoned for too long. Dust hung in the stale air. The furniture sat exactly where it had been left, covered in a thin film of neglect. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Even our footsteps seemed too loud against the silence.
I moved carefully, letting my hands and memory guide me through the darkness. I knew this house. Every corner. Every doorway. Every place where I had once walked without thinking. I reached the window and pulled the curtain aside, and light flooded the room. And there it was.
My house.
Or what was left of it.
For a moment, I simply stood there, staring. Once, this place had been alive. There had been laughter in these rooms, arguments in the kitchen, music playing in the background, footsteps rushing down the hallway. I had eaten here, slept here, cried here. I had believed I was safe here.
I had called this place home, and the cruelest part was that the people who had made it feel like home had never truly belonged to me.
Jude. Isa. Esaias. Maria.
The people I had trusted. The people I had laughed with, shared meals with, opened my heart to. They had filled these rooms with warmth while secretly watching me, listening to me, gathering pieces of my life for the very people who meant to destroy it.
I swallowed hard.
“How could I have loved a place so much,” I shouted, “when I never knew what was hiding inside it?”
“Hey.” Marcus held me. I looked away from him, and somehow, standing there in the silence, I realized I wasn't mourning the house. I was mourning the home I thought I had. One of the reasons why I wanted to come back here was to know if I could still live in this house, but now I know I can’t. I didn’t make it home; they did. Of course, I can make it home with other people, but it is never going to be the same.
I loved them, but they never loved me.
I moved toward the staircase, and I heard Marcus’s footsteps following closely behind me. I stopped and turned to face him.
“I think I need to do this alone.”
“Bewa…”
“I need to do this myself.” My voice trembled, but I held his gaze. “Whatever you hear, please don’t come up. I promise I won’t completely fall apart.” He studied me for a moment before finally nodding.
“Okay.” His voice was soft. “I’ll be right here if you need me.” I gave him a small nod and turned toward the stairs.
Slowly, I climbed. Every step felt heavier than the one before it. With each stair, my heart pounded harder, as though my body already knew where I was going and was begging me to turn back. Then I reached the door with the small wooden plaque hung above it.
NURSERY.
I almost stopped breathing, my fingers curled into fists at my sides. I closed my eyes and drew in one deep breath. Then another. I needed courage, more than I had ever needed anything. I reached for the handle, and my hand trembled violently.
For a few seconds, I couldn't make myself turn it. Then, with every ounce of courage I could gather, I twisted the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT SATURDAY, 9.00 PM WAT
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