The Mark of Chance••√•• Pure Love

chapitre : 14

The journey home was a blur. Marina saw nothing, heard nothing, guided only by the animal instinct to take refuge in her burrow. The tears streaming down her face were no longer of sadness, but a purging, a violent rejection of all she had just endured. She stumbled on her doorstep, her hands shaking so violently she could barely insert the key.

When the door finally opened, she nearly fell forward, but two strong arms caught her.

"Marina! My God, what's happened to you?"

Paul's voice. Full of a sincere alarm that pierced her more deeply than all her father's shouts. She looked up at him with a ravaged face, wet with tears and despair. Seeing him there, present, worried about her while her own family had just rejected her like garbage, another sob, deeper, more heart-wrenching, escaped her. She no longer had the strength to stand.

"I... I tried to call you, your phone..." he began, but stopped when he felt her body slump against his.

Without a word, he picked her up in his arms, a gesture both firm and gentle, and carried her to her sofa. She was light, fragile as a wounded bird. He set her down with infinite care, then rushed to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. When he returned, she was still crying, silent, exhausting sobs that shook her shoulders.

Paul sat beside her, saying nothing. He placed a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, and began making slow, soothing circles. He could feel the tremors running through her body, the violence of the shock she had just sustained. He asked no questions, demanded nothing. He was simply there. A rock. An anchor.

For a long time, the only sounds in the apartment were Marina's muffled sobs and the rustle of fabric under Paul's hand. Gradually, the sobs spaced out, giving way to a heavy, exhausted silence.

"They... they want me to kill it, Paul," she finally whispered, her voice hoarse, broken.

His hand on her back stilled for a moment, then resumed its calming motion. "Who, Marina? Who wants that?"

"My family. My father... and Léna." Her sister's name was a poisoned breath. "They... they dragged me through the mud. For them, my child is a monster. A mistake to be erased."

The words then tumbled out in a disordered stream, chopped by tears. She told him everything. The summons, the family tribunal, the accusations, her father's cold fury, her mother's helpless tears. And then Léna. The threat in the alley. The ultimatum: abort or disappear. The shattered phone. The pact of silence torn from her under duress.

"She said... she said that if Chris ever found out about this child, she would destroy me. That she would make him hate me."

As she spoke, Paul felt a cold, terrible anger rising in him. It wasn't an explosive anger, but a deep, simmering rage against Léna's calculated cruelty, against the father's cowardice, against the absolute injustice crashing down on Marina. His fingers clenched for a moment on her back before relaxing again.

"Those... those bastards," he growled, his voice low and vibrating with contained fury. "Your own family... How can they...?" He shook his head, unable to find words for such monstrosity.

He stood up, paced the room, then came back and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. His eyes, usually so full of laughter, were dark, filled with a fierce determination.

"Marina, listen to me. You are not alone. Do you hear me? Not anymore. I am here. And I won't let you down."

She looked at him, her swollen, red eyes searching for a glimmer of sincerity, a trap. She saw none. Only absolute loyalty.

"Your sister doesn't want to see you? Fine. We'll give her what she wants. We'll give her so much of what she wants she'll end up regretting it."

He took a breath.

"I have a house. In Canada. Near Quebec. It's quiet, it's green, it's... far. Far from here. Far from them."

Marina's eyes widened. Canada? It was another world. An idea so vast, so radical, it made her dizzy.

"Paul... I... I can't...

— Yes, you can. You have nothing holding you here anymore, except me. And me, I'm following you."

He saw the panic in her eyes, the fear of the unknown, the weight of such a decision.

"Listen," he continued more softly. "I'm not asking anything of you. I'm not forcing you into anything. It's an offer. A lifeline. We go there. You and the baby. We start from zero. No one will know you. No one will judge you."

He squeezed her hands.

"I'm not asking you to love me. I'm not asking you to sleep with me. I'm asking you to let me be your friend. Your protector. This child's 'uncle,' if you want. I'll sort out my affairs here – my job, my apartment – and I'll join you. It'll take me a few weeks, maybe a month or two. But I will join you, I promise."

He looked her straight in the eyes, his clear, honest gaze piercing through the fog of her despair.

"Take your time to think. An hour, a day, a week. It doesn't matter. But know that whatever you decide, I'll be there. If you want to stay and fight, I'll fight with you. If you want to leave, I'll pave the way. You're not alone in this mess anymore, Marina. Never again."

Marina looked at him, this man who was offering her without reserve what her own family denied her: a sanctuary. A future. Kindness. She thought of the hatred in Léna's eyes. She thought of the constant fear of running into Chris, of her rounding belly being recognized. She thought of her child, who deserved better than a life of secrets and shame.

A heavy silence settled, filled only by the beating of her heart and the silent promise emanating from Paul.

Then, very slowly, she nodded. A simple movement, heavy with meaning.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice still trembling, but with a new, fragile light in the depths of her eyes. "Okay, Paul. We'll go."

It was a surrender and a beginning. A leap into the unknown. But for the first time in a very long while, this leap didn't frighten her. Because she wasn't leaping alone. She had found her harbor in the storm. And that harbor was named Paul.