Before Our Dawn| ongoing

eleven

chapitre onze
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The sun had just begun to rise over the sleepy suburbs of Algeria, casting a warm glow over the sprawling villas that lined the streets. As the first rays of light filtered through the window of Marie's bedroom, she stirred, stretching languidly and yawning as she sat up in bed.

It was going to be another uneventful day, as they had been since her father had relocated her family to Algeria two years prior. She despised the country she was in, with its dusty streets and loud, uncouth locals. In her mind, nothing compared to the elegance of her life in Paris. Her father's success had enabled him to purchase this sprawling estate, but it was a far cry from the grandeur she was used to back in her city. She disliked Algeria and its people, finding them uncivilized and unrefined. To her, the country was nothing more than an inconvenience, a temporary blip in her privileged life before she returned to the glittering world of Parisian high society.

As she slipped out of bed, her gaze fell upon the ornate vanity mirror that sat on her dresser. She paused for a moment, admiring her reflection, her mind wandering to the one person who plagued her thoughts day and night: Haadi Brahimi. Her heart ached at the thought of him being with anyone else, and the mere mention of Isra made her blood boil.

Marie had spent the night in a state of perpetual unrest, her mind as turbulent as the restless sea that hugged the coast. The weight of her desires and the yearning for something more lingered in her thoughts, manifesting in a restlessness that robbed her of the serenity that sleep typically brought. Yet even when she was able to succumb to the embrace of slumber, she was besieged by unwelcome nightmares that haunted her very soul. Dreams of a life without the glamour of Paris, of a world where the Mediterranean Sea stretched out before her, and of unrequited love for a boy who only acknowledged her as a mere friend. Her restless heart longed for a way to escape the stifling ennui that engulfed her, to break free from the monotony of life in the Algerian suburbs and the people that inhabited it, and to find a way to be with the one she truly desired, Haadi, and to erase the memory of his recent tryst with Isra.

The morning ritual was a long and tedious affair, a meticulous process that demanded her utmost attention. Every detail had to be perfect - from the way her hair was styled to the flawless application of her makeup. For Marie, appearance was everything. She felt immense pressure to match the beauty of her mother, a former model and socialite, and feared that any flaw in her appearance would be noticed and criticized by the high society of France. 

She was Chloe Blanchet's daughter, after all.

She always woke up before the rest of the household, spending hours poring over fashion magazines and experimenting with different styles, all while fidgeting and fretting in front of the mirror. With each passing minute, her anxiety mounted, and her frustration grew. 

Marie slipped into her day dress with the utmost care, smoothing every wrinkle and adjusting every fold. The dress was a masterpiece of elegance and sophistication, a fine specimen of French haute couture that had been painstakingly tailored to fit her every curve. It was a stunning piece, made from the finest silks and adorned with delicate lace that fluttered softly in the breeze. 

The dress was a light blue, a hue that perfectly complemented her porcelain complexion and made her bright blue eyes sparkle like jewels.

Despite the tedium of the routine, Marie felt that it was all worth it. In a world where beauty was a woman's most valuable currency, she believed that her appearance was the key to securing the affection and admiration of those around her. And so she persevered, carefully crafting the perfect facade of glamour and elegance.