Closer

Chapter 2- A Deep, Raw Wound in My Soul

The pain of leaving him behind was still fresh. I had to return to Paris because my exchange program was over, but that didn’t make it any easier. A year had passed, and I had tried so hard to move on, but it felt like a battle I had already lost. I missed him dearly.

The last conversation we had — when he dropped me off at the bus station so I could catch my flight from Houston — still echoed in my mind:

"I will never forget you, Louise. You are the one for me. I need you so much closer. We’re going to be an ocean apart. Life is unfair. I don’t regret meeting you. I loved you, and I still love you deeply. You saved me when I was at my lowest. You have the rest of your life to find someone in France who will make you happy and excited about living and thriving. Je t’aime.”

I was now sobbing, my forehead resting against the cold window. Why couldn’t I have stayed? Or why couldn’t he come here and live with me?

I graduated from HEC last June, and all my friends and I were now looking for jobs. With a great degree from an amazing business school, the job hunt was relatively easy. We had worked hard to get into HEC, and it had paid off.

I was set to start working in January at Fan, a global company specializing in women’s underwear. My future boss, Sylvie Janneau, had been impressed with my résumé during the interview. She reminded me of the formidable Miranda from The Devil Wears Prada. Sylvie had looked me over from head to toe. When her eyes finally met mine, I did what I knew best: I smiled and held her gaze, never blinking. Occasionally, I adjusted my brunette locks over my shoulder or straightened the collar of my shirt — but I never looked away. She did, though. That was when I knew she understood it was better to have me on her team than competing against me.

My loyalty to my employer is solid. I bring skills, and I bring results. But I need to know I can trust someone — otherwise, I lose interest quickly.

Sylvie was in her early fifties, wearing a pencil skirt and a bold red blouse — a somewhat surprising choice, but one that suited her personality. Her blonde curls cascaded past her shoulders, and her green, doe-shaped eyes added to her elegance. She was a beautiful woman. From the interview, I gathered she was single and fully devoted to the success of the brand. Her final handshake was firm. I knew she’d call me soon with an offer — and she did, the very next day.

Now I have a job. That main source of stress was gone — which was dangerous for me. With my mind clear, it could wander freely… back to Michael.

How I hated immigration laws and all those visa regulations. J-1 visa, F-1 visa, work visa… Why did they have to do this to people in love?

I had told Michael that not even an ocean could keep us apart and that I would let him go if that was what he wanted. Our final conversation had been pretty clear. My head understood — but my heart was shattered.

I cried the entire way to the airport on that bus. I cried again as I handed my ticket to the stewardess. I know she felt sorry for me.