Étienne
The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over my room. I had woken up early, too early, considering I hadn't slept much the night before. Thoughts of Victoire clung to my mind like stubborn shadows, refusing to fade. Her words echoed in my head, the ones she had whispered on our walk—You are more than your family's expectations.
I wanted to believe that. I truly did. But every time I looked at my father, every time I heard my mother's voice calling me to fulfill yet another obligation, I was reminded that the world I lived in didn't leave room for me to simply be. I couldn't just be Étienne. I had to be the heir to the family legacy, the perfect son who would continue the path laid out for me.
The sound of footsteps outside my door snapped me out of my thoughts. I could already hear the heavy, deliberate steps of my father approaching. I sighed, bracing myself for whatever demand would come next.
He entered without knocking, his face a mask of authority. "Étienne," he began, his tone firm, "you will accompany me to the meeting today. The Victoire family is attending, and it's time you get to know them better. We need their influence."
I nodded, suppressing the frustration bubbling inside me. The Victoire family. They were becoming a fixture in my life, but not in the way I wanted. My father didn't see Victoire—he only saw her family, and the wealth and power they could offer. I could already feel the walls of my world closing in tighter, the pressure building.
"Yes, Father," I replied, keeping my voice steady. I knew there was no point in fighting it. The path ahead of me had already been set, even if it wasn't the one I wanted.
Victoire
I stared at the breakfast table, the soft clinking of silverware and murmured conversations filling the air. I tried to focus on the food in front of me, but it was impossible to ignore the sense of unease settling in my chest. This was supposed to be a family moment—a rare one, when all my siblings were gathered in the same place—but it felt like I was miles away from them.
My father sat at the head of the table, his eyes flicking over papers, as usual. My mother barely looked up from her embroidery. My siblings were lost in their own conversations, their own worlds. Even Pierre, who had so excitedly told me about Étienne the day before, was engrossed in a conversation with one of our older brothers.
I felt invisible, as though I were a ghost in my own home. The responsibilities, the expectations, they pressed on me like a weight I couldn't escape. It wasn't just the family events, or the constant demands from my parents. It was the idea that I was supposed to hold it all together, to be the person who everyone turned to when things went wrong, or when things needed fixing. It was never enough to just exist; I had to perform, to be the perfect daughter, the perfect sister.
And then there was Étienne.
My heart clenched at the thought of him. It had been only a day since we walked together in the park, and yet, I couldn't stop thinking about him. There was something in the way he made me feel understood, in the way he didn't ask for anything from me—no expectations, no demands. It was a relief, but also a curse. Because I knew that those moments were fleeting. He belonged to a different world, a world where people like me were just tools to be used.
"Victoire," my father's voice broke through my thoughts. His tone wasn't harsh, but it was filled with the usual expectation. "We need to discuss your future. The Victoire family will be at the event tonight. You should make a good impression."
I nodded mechanically. The same words, the same pressure. It was always about making an impression, about being the perfect daughter who could blend into the background and make her family proud. But what about me? What about what I wanted?
Étienne
The carriage ride to the event was a silent one, save for the occasional murmur between my parents. I stared out the window, my mind elsewhere. I should have been thinking about the event, about the discussions that would take place, but all I could think of was Victoire. Her face, her words, the way she made me feel like I wasn't just another cog in the machine of society.
When the carriage stopped, I hesitated before stepping out, my gaze lingering on the grand building ahead. This event was just another duty, another performance, another chance to show my family's power and influence. But something inside me was fighting it. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to play the part.
The Victoire family was already there when I arrived. I saw her standing with her parents, her posture perfect, but there was something in her eyes that told me she wasn't here by choice either. The weight of her world was just as heavy as mine.
Our eyes met across the room, and for a brief moment, everything else faded. The laughter, the whispers, the clinking of glasses—all of it became background noise. I wanted to walk over to her, to speak to her, but the tight grip of my family's expectations held me in place.
Victoire
The event was in full swing by the time we arrived. My father led us through the grand hall, my mother right behind him, her smile fixed in place. The usual crowd was here—noble families, the wealthy elite, people I was supposed to impress, supposed to flatter. But none of it mattered. Not really. I didn't want to be here, and I knew my presence was nothing more than a formality, a gesture to solidify my family's position.
I caught a glimpse of Étienne standing across the room. My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. He looked out of place in this world, just as I did. The way he stood there, seemingly lost in his thoughts, made me wonder if he, too, was feeling the weight of expectations bearing down on him.
For a moment, I considered leaving, just walking away from all of this. But where would I go? What would I do? There was no escaping the life my family had carved for me.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find my mother beside me. "Victoire," she said, her voice low, "your father wants you to speak with Étienne's father. It's time to make your mark."
I nodded silently, following my mother through the crowd. As we approached Étienne and his father, I could feel my heartbeat quicken, the pull between us stronger than ever. But I couldn't let myself get lost in that pull. Not here, not now. I was here to do my duty.
But as I stood beside him, my heart couldn't help but race, my thoughts swirling. Would it ever be possible for us to be more than just pawns in our families' games?
Étienne
I watched as Victoire approached with her mother, her steps graceful, her smile polite but distant. She was here to play the same game, just as I was. The weight of our family's expectations was crushing, but we had to bear it, didn't we?
When she finally reached me, she stopped, a polite distance between us. Her eyes met mine for a brief second before she looked away, her mask of composure slipping back into place.
"Good evening, Étienne," she said, her voice steady but cool. "It's a pleasure to see you here."
"The pleasure is mine, Victoire," I replied, my voice sounding flat even to my own ears. I wanted to say more, to reach out to her, but I knew the consequences of doing so. The consequences of letting myself feel anything other than what was expected.
But still, despite the weight of the situation, despite everything pressing down on us, I couldn't help but feel a connection, a pull toward her that I couldn't explain.