Between our hands

Chapter 19: The Invisible Scars.

The following evening, after a day where everyone had gone about their own business, the dinner hour arrived, and Maëlle made her way to the grand dining hall of the palace, a place where magnificence was palpable. As she entered the room, she was immediately struck once again by the beauty of the décor: the sparkling chandeliers, the walls adorned with luxurious tapestries, and the imposing table laden with refined dishes. Despite the surrounding elegance, Maëlle felt a heaviness inside that made her uncomfortable in such opulence.

Victor and the king were already seated at the table, deep in animated conversation. The king, in his royal attire adorned with golden threads, appeared relaxed, while Victor, dressed in a less extravagant but equally elegant suit, exchanged words with a liveliness Maëlle couldn't share. She moved toward her seat, her mind still haunted by the afternoon's incident.

The persistent pain in her wrist, where a bruise was starting to form, was a constant reminder of the humiliation she had suffered earlier. She had tried to hide the injury by keeping it under the table, but the bruise, though subtle, was visible enough for her to feel it like a mark of shame. Every movement of her hand sent waves of pain, and simply serving herself had become a struggle.

As she sat down, Maëlle did her best to conceal her discomfort. Her eyes rested on the beautifully presented dishes, but her appetite had vanished. Every bite she tried to take was heavy, every flavor seemed bland, crushed by the memory of the assault and the shame she felt.

Victor, ever perceptive, immediately noticed the change in Maëlle's demeanor. He had too often witnessed the shifts in her mood not to understand that something was wrong. His cousin, usually lively and engaged, was silent and distant. Her evasive glances, her hesitant gestures, everything betrayed a deep turmoil.

The king, though aware of the situation, chose to let Victor handle it, knowing that their family bond could be more effective than a royal intervention. Victor, seeing Maëlle flinch with each movement, couldn't help but grow more concerned. The exchanges between the king and him became increasingly rare, Victor's gaze frequently turning toward Maëlle with palpable concern.

The conversation continued, but Maëlle felt as though Victor and the king's voices were muffled by an unfathomable distance. She felt as if she were observing them from another world, a world where pain and humiliation took precedence over courtesy and good manners. With every burst of laughter or friendly remark, she felt more isolated, as if an invisible barrier was keeping her away from the moment's conviviality.

At the end of the meal, Maëlle quickly stood up. She grabbed her napkin and, in a gesture of defiance, headed toward the serving table, starting to clear the plates with silent determination. The servants, surprised by this action, tried to stop her, but Maëlle politely brushed them off. This gesture, though modest, was her way of regaining some control in a situation that was slipping away from her.

Victor, worried, exchanged a glance with the king, who, while inclined to respect the discretion of the situation, nodded in agreement with Victor's desire to follow Maëlle. The king knew that Victor's support would likely be more effective than any intervention on his part.

Victor stood up in turn, his movements fluid and determined, and followed Maëlle to her suite. The palace corridors seemed endless, each step echoing in the heavy silence of the evening. When he reached Maëlle’s door, he knocked softly before opening without waiting for a response.

Inside, Maëlle was sitting on the edge of her bed, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed. Her hands were clenched together, and Victor immediately noticed how she was holding her wrist, as if to hide or protect the injury. He approached gently and sat beside her, sensing the urgency of the situation.

— “Maëlle,” he murmured softly, his voice betraying his worry. “What’s going on? You’re not yourself tonight.”

Maëlle slowly lifted her eyes to him, and Victor was struck by the deep sadness reflected in them. She tried to speak, but her words were lost in a trembling voice. Tears were on the verge of spilling, and she seemed to be fighting to hold them back. Observing his cousin’s distress, Victor decided to change his approach.

— “Do you remember the time we went fishing with Grandpa?” he asked with a nostalgic smile. “I remember when you caught a fish so big that you almost fell into the water trying to pull it out. Grandpa laughed so hard it looked like he was going to split in two.”

Maëlle, despite herself, managed a smile at the memory, but the sadness lingered. Victor continued to share stories, doing his best to lighten the atmosphere. But despite his efforts, Maëlle seemed trapped in a deep melancholy.

Eventually, the weight of the evening became too much for her. She let out a sigh and, between sobs, began to recount the incident. Her voice was broken by sobs, and every word seemed to require an enormous effort. She spoke of the man in the gardens, his threatening look, the brutal insult, and the overwhelming feeling of humiliation.

Victor listened attentively, his gaze hardening as she progressed through her story. His face grew taut with anger and frustration. When she finished, he gently took her into his arms, holding her with protective and reassuring strength. He could feel the tension in her shoulders and the weight of his own frustration at the powerlessness of the situation.

— “Maëlle,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, “you’re not the one who should feel ashamed, it’s that man. He’s ignorant and cruel. We may have to adapt to this culture, but that doesn’t mean you have to let it break you. You’re strong, courageous, and you’ve always known how to face challenges. I’m here for you, and no one will hurt you under my watch.”

Victor's words, though comforting, couldn’t entirely erase Maëlle’s pain. She nestled against him, letting her tears flow freely. Victor continued to murmur reassuring words, his hands gently stroking her hair, his affection palpable in every gesture.

Their bodies slowly relaxed against the bed, and they remained there, united in a moment of comfort and tenderness. The warmth of Victor’s embrace was a source of relief, a temporary escape from the harsh reality they had to face. Maëlle felt protected, and the physical pain in her wrist seemed a bit more bearable in this cocoon of security.

As she relaxed in Victor’s arms, Maëlle found herself thinking about the difficulty of being accepted in a foreign world. The judgment of others, the fear of rejection or misunderstanding, all weighed heavily on her shoulders. She knew she had to be strong, but with Victor by her side, she found the strength to face her new uncertainties.

As the night advanced and the first stars began to twinkle through the windows, Maëlle found a bit of solace in her cousin’s arms. The weight of the day seemed to slowly dissipate, and she felt ready to face the challenges ahead, supported by the love and protection of the one who had always been her pillar.