Between our hands

Chapter 2: Twilight and Secrets.

Maëlle stood by the living room window, her eyes fixed on the dusty road that wound its way through the fields. The golden light of dusk bathed the wheat stalks, each one shimmering as if sprinkled with gold dust. The bucolic landscape, usually so comforting, now seemed oddly menacing under the last rays of the sun. The fields stretched as far as the eye could see, gently swaying in the light breeze, but today, the apparent peace was disturbed by a growing sense of unease.

The distant hum of an engine suddenly broke the countryside’s tranquility. The sound, faint at first, quickly turned into a low rumble, resonating like a hidden threat in the softness of the evening. Maëlle felt her heart race, each beat echoing in her ears. The golden light seemed to fracture as the noise of the approaching car grew louder, amplifying the oppressive silence that enveloped the house.

She slightly turned her head, observing her brothers and sister gathered in the living room. Victor, sitting in a dark corner of the room, stared off into the distance, lost in thought. His eyes were clouded by a shadow of concern, his features drawn by an anxiety he struggled to hide. Beside him, Sacha and Daniel, usually chatty and full of energy, exchanged anxious glances, their faces tense with palpable worry. Their silence was almost louder than the sounds from outside.

Maëlle felt a heavy pressure in her chest, as if her heart was beating desperately to get her attention. She murmured almost to herself, her voice barely louder than a breath, “Who are they?” Her simple question echoed in the room's heavy silence, almost like a muffled cry, but no one answered.

Outside, the crunching of gravel under the car tires became more distinct, followed by the sharp sound of a door closing with unnerving precision. Samuel, their grandfather, stood near the front door, tall and imposing despite his 75 years. His broad shoulders and stature, which exuded a quiet strength, seemed to bear the weight of both years and worry. His eyes, usually soft and wise, were now hard and piercing, as if he sensed an invisible threat that eluded the others.

Victoria, their grandmother, stood beside him, her linen apron tied around her waist. Her hands trembled slightly as she twisted the fabric, a rare gesture for this usually calm and serene woman. She cast an anxious glance at Samuel, visibly seeking some sign of what was to come.

"Stay inside," Samuel ordered, his deep voice firm, barely cracking under the pressure. He cast a warning look at his grandchildren, as if to prepare them for what was about to happen. "I’ll see what they want."

Maëlle felt a wave of visceral nervousness wash over her. The air around her seemed to thicken, as if an invisible force was pressing down on her shoulders. The creaking of the front door, worn by time and rusted with age, added a note of decay to the scene. Every sound outside seemed amplified in the house’s oppressive calm: the rustle of her grandparents' steps on the gravel, the indistinct murmurs of the men outside, and finally, the sharp sound of car doors closing.

The two strangers stepped out of the car, their appearance in stark contrast to the rural setting. They wore impeccably tailored black suits, cut with almost military precision. Their short-cropped hair and tanned skin, under the pale evening light, added a touch of exoticism and incongruity. Their presence seemed almost supernatural in this pastoral landscape. One of the men wore sunglasses, hiding his eyes and adding a layer of mystery to his demeanor, while the other stared intently, his impassive features betraying little emotion.

One of the men stepped forward, his deep voice cutting through the thick air: "Monsieur Georges? Madame Georges?" His accent, barely noticeable, added to the strangeness of the scene. His words were measured and devoid of warmth, but Maëlle sensed a latent urgency, like a wave rising silently.

Samuel, still wary, took a step forward, his protective hand resting on Victoria’s shoulder. He spoke in a firm but cautious voice, "What’s this about?"

The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, exchanging a quick glance with his colleague, then responded, "We need to speak with the Georges family. Are your children here?"

Maëlle felt a cold knot twist in her stomach. The request was strange and raised countless questions. Why were these men interested in them? She exchanged a worried glance with Sacha, who, like her, seemed to be searching for answers in the dim morning light. The sun was slowly enveloping the house, turning the exterior into a warm, inviting scene.

"Yes," Samuel said, his tone firm despite the growing concern. "Why?"

The strangers waited for a moment, their gazes exchanging silent signals. After a heavy exchange of glances between Samuel and Victoria, they were invited inside. The creaking of the wooden floor under their heavy steps echoed in the room, turning the once cozy atmosphere of the living room into a scene of cold formality. The walls, adorned with family photographs and memories, seemed to close in on them, amplifying the sense of claustrophobia.

They took seats around the large family table, the same one that had been the setting for so many joyful meals, shared laughter, and lively discussions. Today, however, the air around the table was charged with an almost palpable tension. Maëlle forced herself to remain still, her shoulders rigid, her back pressed against the chair. The taller of the two men began to speak, his deep voice resonating with an unsettling gravity.

"We are here on a matter that concerns your entire family," he declared, his voice echoing strangely in the silent room. "This may seem unusual, but we must first confirm your identities. Could you show us your ID cards?"

A heavy silence followed his words. Panic surged in Maëlle like a wave, but she forced herself to stay calm. Victoria gave a discreet nod, and the children produced their ID cards with almost mechanical gestures, as if the world around them had shifted in a disorienting way. The strangers examined the documents with cold precision, their faces impassive, before returning them without a word.

Then, the shorter man, disturbingly calm, spoke.

"You have been identified as distant members of a royal lineage. A significant man, without direct heirs, is dying. He is connected to Mr. Samuel Georges. We need to take a DNA sample to verify this connection."

The announcement struck the room like silent thunder. Maëlle felt her breath shorten, her heart pounding in her chest. A DNA test? Who was this man? Why their grandfather? The questions collided in her mind, creating a whirlwind of confusion and disorientation. She cast a worried glance at her brothers and sister, all visibly shocked, their faces drained of color from the surprise.

After a long silence, Samuel furrowed his brow, his features marked by intense concentration. His voice, filled with wisdom but also determination, resonated in the room: "Who are you talking about? Who is this man?"

The short-haired man replied, his tone measured but filled with a cold gravity: "His name is not important at the moment. But if the link is confirmed, it will have major consequences for your family." His words, though brief, seemed to carry a heavy significance, a weight that pressed down on the atmosphere.

The children remained motionless, the air growing heavier around them. The looks exchanged between Samuel and Victoria were filled with gravity and resignation. After a long moment, Samuel nodded in acceptance of the DNA test. The men performed the procedure with an almost clinical efficiency, their movements precise and detached. Then, without another word, they left the house, leaving behind a silence even heavier than the one that preceded them.

Maëlle, sitting at the table, couldn’t help but feel an increasing tightness in her chest. The familiar sounds of the house now seemed distorted, as if normality had been shattered by the unexpected visit. She rose slowly, her legs trembling, and positioned herself by the window, seeking a semblance of calm by gazing at the deserted road.

The man’s words with the strange accent still echoed in her mind: royal lineage, DNA, heirs… What did these terms truly mean for them, and how deep was the mystery that had just crept into their everyday lives? The answers seemed as distant as the sun now twinkling in the sky. The morning pressed on, but the questions remained, floating in the heavy air of the house, waiting for a response that seemed as elusive as the light of a distant star.