Threads of Destiny

10

The last exam ended on a sharp winter afternoon, and by evening the city had changed. Where silence and strain had ruled for weeks, cheer rushed back like a flood.

Cafés filled first, the quiet corners reclaimed by laughter and voices tumbling over one another. Tables once buried under notes now held plates of pastries and steaming cups, hands gesturing wildly as students recounted exam horrors and triumphs.

Restaurants followed, their windows glowing with warmth against the chill outside, packed with groups too large for their chairs. Even the markets near the college buzzed louder, students wandering with newfound lightness, pockets ready to spend what little they had on sweets, scarves, or trinkets to mark their freedom.

In the midst of it all, Léa and Clémence were no quieter than Appie and her circle of friends. Their voices rose in the same jubilant pitch, laughter echoing against stone walls, relief spilling out in every word.

It wasn’t just the end of exams. It was the beginning of two whole weeks without classes. Two weeks to sleep, to celebrate, to be young again without the shadow of deadlines.

The semester break had begun, and the city seemed to sparkle brighter for it.

---

Back in their dorm, still glowing from the relief of exams, Léa and Clémence sprawled across the narrow beds, half-talking, half-laughing. A plate of leftover pastries from the café sat between them, reduced to crumbs.

“So,” Clémence said, tugging at the edge of her blanket. “What about the break? Are you going home?”

Léa nodded. “Yes. My parents keep asking when I’ll arrive. They want to make a big dinner. My brother’s already back from his college — he says he’s been eating too well without me.”

Clémence chuckled. “Typical.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ll come with you. If your family won’t mind?”

“Mind?” Léa sat up, her face lighting. “They’ll be thrilled. And next break, I’ll come to your home. It’s only fair.”

“Deal,” Clémence said, extending her hand solemnly before they both burst into laughter.

The plan settled easily, like it had always been waiting for them to say it out loud. Two weeks at Léa’s home, then the next holiday at Clémence’s — a rhythm of friendship stretching into the future.

Outside, the winter wind rattled against the windows, but inside the small dorm room, there was only warmth, and the promise of home.

---

When Appie burst through the door of her family’s house that evening, still flushed from post-exam chatter, her parents were already waiting with a familiar question:

“So, what shall we do to celebrate?” her father asked, eyes twinkling.

Appie didn’t even pause to think. “A road trip. A proper holiday this time. Not just a weekend — a week! Somewhere by the sea.”

Her mother exchanged a knowing glance with her father, then laughed. “Of course. We should have guessed.”

Within a day, maps and brochures cluttered the dining table. They chose the southern coast, where the water stayed blue even in winter, where small fishing villages sat tucked against sandy coves. A place both quiet and full of life.

Appie was in her element — packing lists, playlists for the car, plans for sunrises on the shore and seafood dinners under lantern light. Her parents indulged her, as they always did, smiling at her enthusiasm even as they reminded her gently to pack warm clothes.

By the time they set off, the car was loaded with laughter and anticipation, Appie’s voice filling every pause in the drive. A week by the sea stretched before them, and she intended to live every moment of it.

---

Baron packed lightly. A single suitcase and his worn satchel — just enough for two weeks at home. The morning was cold, the sky low and gray, when the Marets insisted on driving him to the station.

Marc loaded the suitcase into the back of the car with a practiced ease. “Your parents will be glad to see you,” he said, smiling as if he knew exactly how much Baron had missed them without saying so.

Clara pressed a small basket into his hands before he climbed in. “Some things for your mother and father. Just little comforts.” Her voice carried the warmth of someone who thought ahead, who never let anyone arrive home empty-handed.

Élise appeared last, a book wrapped simply in brown paper. She held it out almost shyly. “For the train. And maybe after.”

Baron hesitated, then accepted it carefully, as if the weight meant more than the gift itself. “Thank you.”

The drive through Étoilemont was quiet but companionable, Marc filling the silence with small talk, Clara occasionally reminding Baron not to forget this or that. Élise sat in the back, watching the winter city slip past, her hands folded in her lap.

At the platform, they saw him off. Marc shook his hand firmly, Clara kissed his cheek, and Élise gave a small wave, her eyes bright despite the gray morning.

When the train pulled away, Baron set the wrapped book on his lap. For a long moment, he didn’t open it. He simply sat with it there, the hum of the rails carrying him back to Montferrat — carrying both the promise of home and the quiet care of the family who had made him feel less alone in Étoilemont.