As the morning dawned gently over Lyon, a warm golden light seeped through the rooftops of the red hills of Fourvière. Élise ambled slowly through her modest apartment in the Croix-Rousse neighborhood, one hand resting on her round belly, ready to burst. Every step felt laborious, yet despite her fatigue, she whispered tenderly:
“Hang in there, my love… just a little longer, and soon we will meet.”
However, Marc, her husband, did not spare her a glance.
Since she had become pregnant, the man who once was caring and full of promises had turned into a stranger. He complained about everything: the scent of the meals, her restless sleep, her labored breathing. It was as if motherhood had rendered her invisible to him.
One evening, while Élise painstakingly folded the baby’s tiny clothes, he uttered words that shattered her heart:
“Next month you’ll give birth at your parents’ house in Annecy. It costs too much here. There, a midwife will take care of you for next to nothing. I won’t just throw my money away.”
Élise stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes.
“But Marc… I’m in my ninth month. The journey is long… I could deliver on the way…”
He merely shrugged, indifferent.
“That’s your problem. At least there you’ll stop complaining.”
That night, Élise realized that the man she loved was no longer in existence.
Two days later, with a lump in her throat, she boarded a TGV bound for Annecy, clutching an old suitcase.
Upon arriving at the station, her mother, Mrs. Fontaine, was waiting for her. Seeing her daughter so pale, she enveloped her in a tight embrace.
“My dear… you’re home now. Mom will take care of you.”
Meanwhile, as soon as Élise had left Lyon, Marc hurried to the home of Chloé Morel, his young assistant.
Chloé was also expecting… and had sworn to Marc that she was carrying a boy.
He felt like the luckiest man in the world.
“Finally, an heir!” he boasted.
Without hesitation, he spared no expense: a private suite at the Saint-Antoine Clinic, top-notch care, nearly 8,000 euros already paid.
On the day of the birth, Marc arrived clutching a grand bouquet of tulips.
When the baby came into the world, he immediately sent a picture to all his WhatsApp groups:
“My son! He looks so much like me!”
Yet, his elation was about to be short-lived.
A nurse called him over to sign some documents. Marc strutted proudly into the neonatal unit.
As the door swung open, his smile froze.
Before him stood Mrs. Fontaine, Élise’s mother, arms crossed and with an icy gaze.
“M… Mrs. Fontaine? What are you doing here?” Marc stammered.
She calmly placed a baby formula jar on the table.
“I came to see my son-in-law. And the child you are so proud of.”
“You must be mistaken… Chloé is just a friend I’m helping…” Marc attempted to explain, nervous.
Mrs. Fontaine raised a hand to silence him.
She pulled a folder from her bag.
“Do you know what this is? A DNA test. I requested it as soon as the child was born.”
She opened it slowly, savoring the moment.
“And guess what… that baby is not yours, Marc. Not even a drop.”
Marc stood transfixed, pale.
“It’s impossible… Chloé assured me…”
Mrs. Fontaine let out a brief, bitter laugh.
“You kicked my daughter out because she was expecting a girl. You forced her like a stranger to save a few euros. Yet, for this woman, you’ve spent thousands. And for what? To raise another man’s child.”
She put the documents back in her bag and headed for the exit.
Just before crossing the threshold, she added:
“Élise is well. She gave birth to a beautiful girl, perfectly healthy. And don’t worry… now she has a father. But it’s no longer you. From now on, my daughter and my granddaughter don’t need a coward like you.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Marc collapsing into a chair.
The wailing of a newborn echoed in the hallway, the same cry that a few hours ago had seemed like a miracle.
Now it felt like a mockery.
Weeks later, the clinic informed him he owed over 12,000 euros.
Chloé had vanished, leaving all debts in his name.
The apartment he had bought for her was foreclosed.
His savings were gone.
His pride was shattered.
In Annecy, Élise gradually regained her strength.
The sunset reflected on the turquoise lake while Mrs. Fontaine watched her rock her baby on the terrace.
“See, my daughter? Life always returns everyone to their rightful place. You have love. He… has only his guilt.”
Élise kissed her little one’s forehead, a fragile smile on her lips.
The warm breeze swept down from the mountains, causing the apple tree leaves in the garden to tremble.
And for the first time in a long while, Élise took a deep breath, rejuvenated.