(POV Godwell)
I had finally given up on the idea of finding Irene.
If he wanted to disappear, let him disappear.
I certainly wasn't going to spend all night chasing after him.
However, I remained on the balcony.
The old building was silent at this hour. From here, I could observe a good part of the street without being disturbed.
I leaned against the railing.
Then a smell reached me.
I immediately wrinkled my nose.
Vanilla.
I held my sleeve up in front of my face.
- Seriously…
I hated that smell.
It was far too sweet.
And above all, she was far too strong.
Even from the balcony, I could smell it.
I lowered my eyes.
A girl was downstairs.
I had never really noticed it before.
She stood near the entrance of the building, slightly away from passers-by.
I narrowed my eyes.
So it was her.
The person responsible for this olfactory assault.
She was talking to a man.
More lovers in the night.
I leaned forward slightly to get a better look.
They didn't seem to know each other particularly well.
They were talking as if they were arguing. Then something passed from one hand to the other.
A small object.
I couldn't make out what it was clearly enough.
I sat up.
An exchange.
Nothing extraordinary.
In any case, there were regular occurrences in that neighborhood.
I certainly wasn't going to start now.
I looked back towards the street one last time.
The man had just left.
The girl remained motionless for a few seconds before putting the object in her pocket.
Then she walked away in turn.
I sighed.
– That's good, they didn't kill each other.
I could finally breathe normally.
I left the balcony.
Irene could very well wait until tomorrow.
Anyway, I hadn't achieved anything tonight.
And I hated leaving without an answer.
Especially when it was something important.
And yet everything seemed to bring him closer to a much more favorable truth, but as they say so well in their country, "when you search you don't find it, and when you accept it you find it."
But that's not the only thing that might find him.
A FEW HOURS EARLIER IN THE HOUSE.
In a still hazy memory.
A sharp, stabbing pain woke me up.
I slowly opened my eyes.
The ceiling of my room appeared above me.
I remained motionless for a few seconds; I didn't understand why I was lying down.
Then I felt something against my head.
A compress.
I turned my head slightly.
François was sitting near the bed.
He was holding a small, open medical kit on his lap.
– Don't move.
His voice was calm as always, and he also kept his head neutral.
I blinked incomprehensibly.
– How did I end up here?
He placed the compress against my forehead.
The pain made me grimace.
– Ouch…
– This is the second time I've found you unconscious and injured.
I looked at her hands.
Then my own body.
I didn't remember injuring myself.
– what ?
François looked up at me.
– You don't remember?
– It's much more serious than I thought.
I shook my head slowly.
His gaze remained fixed on me for a few seconds.
– I did reason with you, though.
I sat up slightly.
– on what?
He looked at me coldly.
The movement made my head spin.
I placed a hand on my forehead.
– Godwell ?
- Yes.
I was desperately searching my memory.
Nothing.
A hole.
Not even a vague memory.
A complete void.
And yet I don't remember leaving my room.
– Is...
I looked at François.
– Why would I have fought with him?
– That's what I'd like to know.
I lowered my eyes.
That didn't make sense.
Godwell and I were in conflict, certainly.
But I wasn't stupid enough to deliberately start a fight.
Finally...
I didn't think I was.
– What happened?
François calmly put away a compress.
– I have no idea.
I frowned.
– Did I provoke him?
– that's impossible
I remained silent, searching my brain.
I couldn't even imagine the scene.
- sure ?
– Your head is bleeding, heretic.
I raised my hand to my head again.
- Really ?
François didn't even reply.
He got up and put away the pencil case
I swallow.
That was not a very reassuring answer.
– Is he injured?
– Nothing serious.
I breathed softly.
At least I won't have to listen to the reproaches of his overprotective mother.
I didn't know what had come over me.
I closed my eyes.
I tried once again to recover even the slightest memory.
A voice.
A face.
One sentence.
Anything.
Nothing.
Then a strange sensation appeared.
I think I know.
I suddenly opened my eyes.
– François…
- Yes ?
– Did I look...
I stopped.
I didn't even know how to finish my sentence.
Different ?
That would make no sense.
- Let go.
François looked at me for a few seconds before closing his jacket.
– You will resume your doctor's appointments.
Then he turned around.
– wait .
He stopped.
Does Mom know?
– No.
His answers were always brief and curt.
I relaxed.
– Don't tell her anything, she'll just think again that I'm incapable of handling my relationship problems.
François remained silent.
Then he nodded.
- Alright.
He left the room.
The door closed gently.
I remained alone.
Silence surrounded me.
I ran a hand over my wound.
It hurt.
But it wasn't the pain that worried me.
I remembered the day perfectly up until the moment I got back to my room.
And then...
Nothing more.
I looked at the clock.
Several hours had disappeared.
How was that possible?
She can't take my place without asking me.
It's my left.
Isn't that right?
I walked towards the mirror.
My reflection looked at me.
A small bandage on the forehead.
Slightly messy hair.
A tired face.
I moved closer.
– What did you do?
Obviously, my reflection didn't respond.
I sighed and lowered my voice.
– You're having fun, I know you're here.
– Don't play with my nerves.
What can you do?