Chapter 20: ✤Chapter Eighteen✤

✭Laurent✭

AN: There's a lot of French in this chapter, but don't worry! The full translation can be found right at the end of this chapter. Enjoy reading!

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I was watching her intently as she delivered the lecture; she looked so beautiful today...more radiant than the last time I saw her at the campus café. I couldn't help but wonder what had upset her so much that even eating seemed like an impossible task.

Seated at the back of the auditorium, I admired her from afar.

I hadn't tried to reach out since that day. The lost and disoriented look in her eyes made it clear she needed space to process whatever she was going through.

It also gave me time to reflect on my feelings. I realized I'd been rushing both of us into something neither of us fully understood. But one thing was certain...I really liked her, and I wasn't going to let her go.

As the lecture ended, students began gathering their things and filtering out of the auditorium. I stayed seated, watching her pack up her notes at the front. She looked calmer than before, but something about her demeanor still seemed distant.

I stood up slowly, wondering if I should approach her or give her space. Just as she slung her bag over her shoulder, our eyes met briefly, then she quickly looked away. I hesitated, then decided to wait. She needed time, and I wanted her to reach out when she was ready.

I sighed deeply, standing there as I watched her leave the lecture hall. It was Monday—my last lecture of the day—which meant heading back to my lonely, boring apartment with a heavy heart and thoughts of her weighing on my mind.

I was the last to leave the room. As I walked down the nearly empty hallway, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. Stopping, I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the empty space. A creeping unease sent chills up my neck.

My phone suddenly rang, breaking the tension and startling me. Seeing an unknown number on the screen, I frowned, debating whether to answer. Resuming my steps, I finally accepted the call.

Me: "Hello?"

Unknown: "Allô Laurent, c'est Gustave."

Me: "Gustave, you scared the shit out of me," I said, letting out a relieved sigh.

Gustave: "Henry, parle français s'il te plaît, tu sais que je n'aime pas quand tu fais ça."

Me: "Ok, laisse-moi trouver un endroit tranquille pour qu'on puisse parler."

I glanced around, trying to find a quiet spot. The hallway was mostly empty, but the unsettling feeling of being watched lingered. I didn't want to take any chances, so I kept moving cautiously.

Me: "Bon, parle. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?"

Gustave: Gustave: "Ton père est furieux. Tu étais déjà censé être là. Il m'a crié dessus toute la matinée et a essayé de me forcer à lui dire où tu es."

Me: "Gustave, dis-lui que je serai là à temps pour le bal. Je n'ai pas besoin d'être là une semaine avant. J'ai des choses importantes à régler avant de venir, et ça ne peut pas attendre."

Gustave: "Putain, Laurent! Pourquoi tu ne peux pas juste faire ce qu'il veut, pour une fois? Ce serait plus simple pour tout le monde. Il est tellement en colère que même ta mère n'arrive pas à le calmer."

Me: "Ne t'inquiète pas, je vais m'en occuper."

Gustave: "Tu as intérêt. J'en ai marre de prendre toutes les balles pour toi."

Me: "Ok, Talk to you later," I said teasingly, knowing he hated it when I spoke English to him.

Gustave: "Laurent!" he said in a scolding tone.

Me: "Je t'appelle dès que j'ai parlé à mon père."

I hung up, stepping out of my hiding spot. The hallway was still quiet, but that unsettling feeling of being watched lingered. Shaking it off, I started walking toward the exit of the building.

As I neared the exit, I was almost out when a girl suddenly stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Hey, you're Laurent, right?" she asked, her voice dripping with a tone that was probably meant to be seductive.

I paused, taking a step back to create some space. "Uh, yeah, can I help you?"

She tilted her head, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. "I just wanted to say hi. I've seen you around, and... well, I thought maybe we could hang out sometime."

I raised an eyebrow, unsure of her intent but not particularly in the mood for small talk. "That's... nice of you, but I'm kind of in a hurry right now."

Her smile faltered for a second before she leaned slightly closer. "Oh, come on, just a quick chat? I don't bite."

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable and eager to leave, I glanced at my watch. "Look, I appreciate it, but now's really not a good time."

Without waiting for her to respond, I stepped around her and continued toward the exit, relieved when I finally pushed the door open and felt the crisp air outside.

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After Gustave's call, I knew I couldn't keep avoiding my father. I called him that evening, dreading the conversation but knowing it was inevitable.

"Laurent," his voice boomed on the line. "tu n'es toujours pas là. Tu as une idée de la honte que tu fais subir à cette famille?"

I clenched my fist, keeping my tone calm. "Je serai là à temps pour le bal, comme je l'ai dit. J'ai des choses à régler ici."

"Régler ? Tu joues à tes petits jeux depuis bien trop longtemps ! Rentre en France, maintenant!" His voice was sharp, every word cutting deep.

"Je ne suis plus un enfant, Père. Je viendrai quand je serai prêt." said firmly, my patience thinning.

"Tu es égoïste, Laurent. Tu ne penses qu'à toi. C'est plus grand que toi — ta responsabilité envers cette famille est tout !"

The call ended with him hanging up, leaving me boiling with frustration. My hand tightened around the phone as I leaned against the wall, trying to calm down. He always had a way of making me feel like nothing I did was good enough.

The call ended with him hanging up, leaving me boiling with frustration. My hand tightened around the phone, and I slammed it down on the table, pacing the room as my emotions swirled. Every word he said echoed in my mind, fueling my anger.

Why couldn't he see that I wasn't just his puppet? For once, I wanted to live my life on my terms, not according to his demands. But no matter how hard I tried, he always made me feel like I was falling short, like I wasn't enough.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to steady my breathing. I needed to clear my head before I lost it completely.

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That week dragged on like no other. Between the stress of my father's expectations and the uncertainty surrounding Kayla, I could hardly focus on anything. In class, my mind wandered, and even when I tried to study, the words blurred together. My professors' voices were a distant hum, drowned out by the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions I couldn't control.

My father's demands replayed in my head relentlessly. Every call, every cutting remark—his disappointment was a weight I couldn't shake. He wanted me to come back, to take my place as the heir to his empire, but I had left for a reason. The pressure, the lack of freedom, the constant judgment—it had become suffocating. I'd come to New York to escape, to find myself away from the shadow of his expectations, but now it felt like I was being pulled back into it.

And then there was Kayla. She was a different kind of escape for me, one I hadn't even realized I needed until I met her. But the more I thought about her, the more confused I became. Was I misreading her? Did she feel the same pull I did, or was I just imagining it? The doubts gnawed at me, leaving me restless and irritable.

By the time the weekend came, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed air, space—anything to clear my head. I found myself wandering through the city, letting the vibrant hum of New York distract me. It worked, for a while.

Until I saw her.

Kayla was standing outside a cozy restaurant, laughing with some guy. My heart dropped as I stopped in my tracks. She looked radiant, happier than I'd ever seen her.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

She was smiling at him. Why was she smiling?

And why the fuck was he touching her?

Who gave him the right to touch what's mine?

I felt a knot tighten in my chest as jealousy surged through me. He leaned closer, his hand brushing her arm, and I had to look away. My thoughts spiraled. Was this the reason she'd been so distant? Had I been fooling myself into thinking I mattered to her?

The emotions were too much. I turned and walked away, my hands balled into fists. I wanted to confront her, to demand answers, but what right did I have? She wasn't mine. Not really.

Back in my apartment, the silence felt deafening. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my packed suitcase. The flight was booked. My father would get his way—at least for now. I couldn't stay here, not with the way things were. Between him and Kayla, it felt like everything was unraveling.

This wasn't just about the ball or my father's anger. It was about everything I'd tried to run from—the pressure, the judgment, the feeling that I'd never be good enough. My relationship with my father had always been rocky. He had this way of making me feel like my worth was tied to how well I performed, how closely I followed the plan he'd laid out for my life. Coming to New York was supposed to change that, but now it felt like I was running in circles.

As I zipped up my bag, I glanced out the window at the city skyline. I wanted to stay, to fight for what I'd found here, but maybe I wasn't ready. Maybe I needed to go back and confront the parts of myself I'd been avoiding.

The next morning, as the plane ascended, I leaned back in my seat, the city shrinking beneath me. I hadn't said goodbye to Kayla. Maybe it was better that way. Some things weren't meant to be—or at least, not yet.

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Hey lovely readers,

What did you think of this chapter? And what do you think is going to happen next?

Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

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Until next time!

Here's the translation Lovelies

"Ok, laisse-moi trouver un endroit tranquille pour qu'on puisse parler."

Translation: "Okay, let me find a quiet place where we can talk."

"Ton père a furie, tu étais censé être déjà là. Il m'a crié dessus toute la matinée et a essayé de me forcer à lui dire où tu es."

Translation: "Your father is furious, you were supposed to be here already. He yelled at me all morning and tried to force me to tell him where you are."

"Gustave, dis-lui que je serai là à temps pour le bal. Je n'ai pas besoin d'être là une semaine avant. J'ai des choses à régler avant de venir et ça ne peut pas attendre."

Translation: "Gustave, tell him I'll be there in time for the ball. I don't need to be there a week before. I have things to sort out before I come, and it can't wait."

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"Laurent,"  "You're still not here. Do you have any idea how much embarrassment you're causing this family?"

"I'll be there in time for the ball, like I said. I've got things to handle here."

"Handle? You've been playing your little games long enough! Come back to France, now!"

"I'm not a child anymore, Father. I'll come when I'm ready,"

"You're selfish, Laurent. You only think about yourself. This is bigger than you—your responsibility to this family is everything!"