Étoile

Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The Things We Don't Say

Tuesday – 6:11 PM

Université de Saint-Aubin – Rooftop Terrace

Stella wasn’t supposed to be here.

The rooftop terrace was technically off-limits after hours, but the lock was old, and the security guard had a soft spot for ambitious law students “finding quiet places to think.” So here she was—alone, seated on the stone bench with her legs crossed, her laptop closed and forgotten beside her.

The sky was that perfect Parisian shade of twilight blue, streaked with pink. She didn’t see sunsets often—not with how tightly she scheduled her days. But tonight, she needed it. The air, the silence, the space to breathe.

Julien hadn’t texted since last night.

He hadn’t kissed her, either. But he had leaned in like he might. And it was the almost that haunted her.

She didn’t know how to act around him now. Part of her still wanted to hate him. The other part—well, that part kept remembering the way his voice softened when he looked at her like she was something fragile he didn’t dare break.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

Of course.

“Seriously,” she said without turning around, “do you have a GPS tracker on me or something?”

Julien chuckled. “You act like I don’t know all your hiding spots by now.”

He walked up beside her and sat, careful not to let their shoulders touch.

For a long moment, they just watched the sky.

Finally, he said, “I didn’t text because I didn’t want to push.”

She kept her eyes forward. “You didn’t.”

“I just... didn’t want to assume.”

Stella sighed. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Me neither,” he admitted.

She turned to face him. “This isn’t part of the plan, Julien.”

He smiled faintly. “You have a plan for everything, don’t you?”

“I have to,” she said. “It’s how I stay ahead. I schedule, I strategize, I control what I can because if I don’t—if I stop even for a second—things slip. And I can’t afford to slip.”

Julien was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he asked, “Who made you feel like you had to be perfect all the time?”

She blinked.

“No one,” she said automatically.

But her throat tightened. Because that wasn’t true.

“My dad left when I was eleven,” she said finally, voice quieter now. “Left a note on the kitchen table and disappeared. My mom worked three jobs to keep us afloat. I saw what it looked like to be forgotten. I decided it would never happen to me again. If I was good enough, smart enough, successful enough—people would stay.”

Julien’s jaw clenched.

“You weren’t the reason he left, Stella.”

“Try telling that to the eleven-year-old who stopped asking for new shoes because she thought she cost too much.”

He reached out, gently covering her hand with his. “I would’ve stayed.”

She met his eyes, and something sharp and hot lodged in her chest.

“I hated you,” she said softly, “because you made me feel things I didn’t have time for.”

Julien smiled, but it wasn’t smug this time. It was sad.

“I annoyed you on purpose. I thought if I kept you irritated, I could keep you close.”

Stella stared at him. “That is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

And just like that, the tension broke. She laughed—an actual laugh—and Julien looked like he might bottle the sound if he could.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. Earned.

After a while, she asked, “Do you come up here often?”

“When I need to think,” he said. “Or when I want to pretend I’m not terrified about the future.”

She nudged his shoulder. “You’re always so calm.”

He looked at her then, and for the first time, didn’t look away. “I’m not calm around you.”

The air shifted. Thickened.

He leaned in slowly—giving her time to pull away, time to object—but she didn’t.

Their lips met, tentative at first.

Then deeper.

It wasn’t a fiery kiss, not rushed or desperate. It was deliberate, full of weight. Like both of them knew they’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.

When they finally parted, Stella’s heart was thundering in her chest.

Julien rested his forehead against hers. “Now we’re really off-script.”

She closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

Wednesday – 8:13 AM

Stella’s Bedroom

Stella couldn’t focus.

She sat at her desk, rereading the same paragraph on judicial precedent for the third time. Her phone buzzed next to her, and her heart jumped before she even looked.

Julien: I keep replaying last night. It wasn’t just a kiss, was it?

She hesitated, thumbs hovering over the screen.

What did she even say to that?

She settled for:

Stella: No. It wasn’t.

Seconds later:

Julien: Can I see you tonight?

Stella: We have to practice.

Julien: Is that a yes?

She smiled, despite herself.

Stella: 7 PM. My place. Don’t be late.

That Evening – Stell’s Apartment – 7:06 PM

Julien brought Thai food and his laptop.

They sat on the floor with noodles, highlighters, and printouts scattered like confetti. But the usual banter was quieter. Softer.

There was an electricity between them now that neither of them quite knew what to do with.

Halfway through the cross-examination prep, Julien asked, “Do you think this changes things?”

Stella looked up. “It already has.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She paused, then said honestly, “I don’t know. But it’s real.”

Julien smiled gently. “I can live with real.”

And somehow, that terrified her more than anything.

Because real could break.

And she didn’t know if her heart was ready for that kind of risk.