Julien sat down heavily, the plush velvet seat creaking beneath his weight. He clenched his fists, the knuckles turning white as he grappled with the weight of his past actions. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and thick with emotion, a note of anguish and regret coloring every word. "Amélie, I am so sorry," he began, his gaze dropping to the white linen tablecloth as he struggled to find the right words. "I am sorry for leaving you the way I did, without a word of explanation or goodbye." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he fought back the sudden, unexpected sting of tears.
But Amélie was not in a forgiving mood. She scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the charged atmosphere of the bistro like a knife. "Sorry?" she spat, a look of utter disgust and a touch of incredulity playing across her beautiful features. "You think a simple 'sorry' is enough to make up for what you did to me?" She shook her head, a strand of chestnut hair falling across her face as she leaned forward, her green eyes flashing with a fury that was as painful as it was mesmerizing. "Just tell me why, Julien. Why did you leave me? Give me a reason, and then I can be on my way." Her voice was a low, urgent demand, a desperate need to understand the reason behind his sudden disappearance.
Julien took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling himself for the confession that was to come. "At our graduation ceremony, I wasn't there..." he began, his voice low and heavy with the weight of his past mistakes.
But Amélie cut him off, a sharp, bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Oh, I know that, you bastard," she snapped, a venomous edge to her tone. "I sat there in the audience, waiting for you, hoping that you would come walking through those doors and take your place beside me. But you never did." She shook her head, a look of disgust and a touch of anguish playing across her face. "Damn you, Julien. Damn you for breaking your promises, for leaving me behind without a word of explanation."
Julien continued, his voice low and heavy with the weight of his past. "I know you already know I wasn't there at graduation," he said, his gaze still fixed on the tablecloth. "I know you must have been hurt and angry, and you have every right to be. But please, let me explain..." He paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he struggled to find the right words.
"It was my father," he began, his voice breaking slightly on the word. "He... he lost everything. His business, his money, his reputation... it was all gone, overnight. And then..." Julien's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, a note of anguish and a touch of disbelief coloring his tone. "And then he took his own life. He couldn't face the shame, the failure..."
Julien's hands clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents in the soft flesh. "I had to leave, Amélie. I had to go home, to take care of my family, to try to salvage what was left of our lives. I tried to call you, I swear I did, but your number was unreachable. It was like you had vanished into thin air, and I was left with no choice but to pick up the pieces of my shattered family."
He finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears and a desperate, pleading look. "I am so sorry, Amélie. I am sorry for leaving you, for not being there for you when you needed me most. I never wanted to hurt you, never wanted you to think that I stopped loving you. I just... I just couldn't be in Paris anymore, not with everything that had happened. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, even if you can't forget what I did."
Amélie's eyes widened in shock as Julien's words sank in, a sudden realization dawning on her face. "Oh my god, Julien," she breathed, a hand flying to her mouth as the horror of his revelation hit her like a physical blow. "I had no idea... about your father, I mean." She shook her head, a look of genuine sympathy and a touch of regret softening the hard edges of her anger. "I'm so sorry, It must've been devastating for you and your family."
She bit her lip hard, the sharp sting of teeth sinking into tender flesh a welcome distraction from the sudden, overwhelming surge of emotions that threatened to consume her. "I destroyed my SIM card," she admitted, her voice a low, haunted murmur. "Out of frustration, out of anger at you for leaving me without a word. I thought... I thought you had just gotten tired of me, of us. I never dreamed that something so terrible had happened to you."
Amélie's gaze dropped to her lap, where her hands twisted and turned the white linen napkin into a tight, angry knot. "Good lord, Julien," she whispered, a note of anguish and a touch of self-reproach coloring her tone. "I can't even begin to fathom the pain and the loss you must have endured. And here I was, so consumed by my own heartache and anger that I never stopped to consider that there might be a reason, a genuine reason, for your disappearance." She reached out, her slender fingers brushing against his hand in a fleeting moment of comfort and connection. "Your father... he was a good man, a kind and decent man who raised a son who shares those same qualities." Her gaze softened, a note of admiration and a touch of tenderness coloring her tone.
Julien's breath caught in his throat at the unexpected contact, a flicker of surprise and a glimmer of hope flashing in his dark eyes. He turned his hand over beneath hers, his rough, calloused fingers intertwining with her own in a gesture of gratitude and a desperate need for forgiveness.
"Thank you, Amélie," he said hoarsely, his voice a low, fervent whisper. "That means more to me than you could ever know. My father... he loved you like a daughter, and he always spoke so highly of the woman you were becoming." A sad, wistful smile tugged at the corners of Julien's mouth as he remembered the countless conversations he had shared with his father about Amélie, about the love and the future they had once dreamed of together.
Julien's gaze drifted over Amélie's face, taking in the delicate curve of her cheekbones, the lush, sensual curve of her lips, the sparkling green eyes that had once held the promise of a lifetime of love and happiness. "He raised me to be a man who would cherish and protect the woman he loved, a man who would never leave her side,"
Amélie's eyes widened at Julien's words, a sudden realization dawning on her face. But just as quickly, she snatched her fingers away from his, a look of uncertainty and a touch of wariness flashing in her green eyes. She clenched her fists in her lap, the knuckles turning white as she struggled to reconcile the man before her with the memories of the past.
"No," she said firmly, a note of determination and a hint of pain coloring her voice. "This doesn't mean we can just go back to how we were ten years ago, Julien." She shook her head, a strand of chestnut hair falling across her face as she looked away, unable to meet his hopeful gaze.
"Your sudden departure, without a word of explanation or goodbye... it shattered something in me. Something I thought was unbreakable." Amélie's voice was a low, haunted whisper, a raw, unfiltered glimpse into the heartache and the pain she had endured in the years since he left. "Trust. You shattered my trust in love, in relationships, in the promises people make."
She took a shuddering breath, her hands clenching tighter as she grappled with the ghosts of her past. "I've been wary of any man who tried to get close to me since then. I've built walls around my heart, determined to never let anyone in, to never give them the power to hurt me like you did." A single tear slid down her cheek, glinting in the candlelight before she angrily brushed it away.
"Even now, knowing what happened to your father, knowing that there was a reason for your disappearance... I can't just forget the pain, the anger, the sheer devastation I felt when you left." Amélie's voice broke on a sob, a note of anguish and a touch of self-reproach coloring her tone. "I've spent the last decade rebuilding my life, my trust, my belief in myself. I can't just throw that away, can't just pretend that the last ten years never happened."
Just as Amélie poured out her heart to Julien, the maître d'hôtel reappeared, a bottle of chilled champagne in hand. He paused, clearing his throat softly as he approached their table. "Mademoiselle," he said, a note of polite hesitation in his voice. "I apologize for the delay, but I have your sparkling wine here."
Amélie started, a blush rising to her cheeks as she quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears. She shot the maître d'hôtel a teasing glare, a wry smile tugging at her lips despite the emotional turmoil of the moment. "You sure took your sweet time, Monsieur," she quipped, a hint of flirtation in her tone. "If you wanted a bad review, you're certainly going the right way about it."
The maître d'hôtel, a tall, slender man with a neatly trimmed mustache and a crisp, white apron, looked mildly offended. "I assure you, Mademoiselle, that was not my intention," he said, a note of apology in his voice. "I have been standing here for a few moments, waiting for a pause in your conversation before I interrupted." His gaze flicked briefly to Julien before returning to Amélie, a look of understanding and a touch of empathy in his eyes.
Julien, for his part, sat back in his seat, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched the exchange. He could see the fire and the spirit in Amélie, the way she stood up for herself, the way she refused to be anything less than she deserved. It was a side of her he had never seen before, a strength and a resilience that had been forged in the crucible of their lost love.