Chapitre quarante-six
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━April 12th, 1943.
In the presence of their only son, Klaus, and the witnesses Yves and Celine, Hans Zeigler and Isra Mansouri exchanged vows in Le Chambon. Having left most of her possessions in Paris, Isra wore a simple yet elegant dress that once belonged to Celine in her youth. With a few alterations, it fit Isra perfectly—devoid of embellishments but radiating understated beauty.
As for her now-husband, Yves generously lent Hans a white shirt, and he used some of his hard-earned farm money to purchase new trousers. While they both dreamt of a grand wedding surrounded by friends and family, they cherished the intimate ceremony they shared. In a quaint setting with each other's love as the focus, it was more than enough for Hans and Isra.
The ceremony was brief but sentimental. They listened to Reverend Gabin's short sermon on love and the importance of marriage, they exchanged vows but no rings, and just like that, Isra had become Mrs. Zeigler—Mrs. Duval under their alias.
Outside the church, after the ceremony, Celine insisted on photographing them. Isra was reminded so much of her ceremony with Marcel that for a moment, she was flooded with guilt for marrying another man. But that look in Hans' eyes, and the smile on his face, and the reverence in his countenance... she hoped Marcel, wherever he was, would understand the decisions she made.
Celine, enthusiastic about photography, positioned Hans and Isra in front of the quaint church. "Just a bit to the left, there you go," she directed, adjusting her camera. She raised it, framing the shot. "Hold that smile!"
As the shutter clicked, freezing that moment in time, the couple beamed.
"You two make a lovely couple. We'll get this developed."
Hans enveloped Isra in a tight hug right after, leaning in to murmur something into her ear. "I love you. Thank you for this, for being my family."
She reciprocated by hugging him back, realizing that he was her home now—him and Klaus.
Hans and Isra exchanged laughter and hushed conversations as they walked home. Her husband held Klaus in his arms, while a short distance behind, Celine and Yves walked side by side, allowing the newlyweds to enjoy their own intimate realm of happiness.
"We're married," Hans said those two words like he couldn't believe them.
"We are," Isra acknowledged, clinging to his arm as they walked in step. "I feel... wonderful."
Klaus gurgled just then, as if he could understand what was being said. Hans and Isra laughed, and Hans kissed him on the forehead. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes, a happiness that penetrated his exterior and descended deep into his soul. Somehow, she saw bits of Marcel in him, in that loving smile and his soft gaze. She saw Haadi too. Hans was a culmination of them both, in a sense.
"I love you very much, Hans," she whispered.
"I love you too, my darling. Always."
That evening, Yves and Celine kindly announced their plans to stay overnight at a friend's house, who had graciously extended an invitation. They offered to look after Klaus for the night, too. Hans sensed their true intention—to give the newlyweds some space for their first night together as a married couple.
Isra prepared a quick lunch for herself and Hans. To her surprise, he devoured his meal with unexpected speed, leaving her momentarily taken aback. Then, abruptly rising from the dining table, he seized her wrist and led her upstairs, leaving her puzzled but willing to follow.
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Before Our Dawn| ongoing
Historical FictionIn the vibrant streets of 1935 Paris, Isra, a young Algerian girl, embarks on a journey of love and resilience. From the innocent romance of her childhood sweetheart, to an unexpected connection with a compassionate doctor, and a forbidden love amid...