Chapter 98
The call came without planning.
It was late afternoon in èze.
The light had softened, turning the edges of everything slightly warmer, slightly slower.
Alina had just finished reading when her phone lit up.
Camille.
She answered.
“Hi p>
“Hi,” Camille said, her voice carrying that familiar brightness that hadn’t changed.
A pause.
“Are you free p>
“Yes p>
Another pause.
“I miss you p>
Alina leaned back slightly in her chair.
“I know p>
“Can we come p>
She didn’t ask who we were.
She already knew.
“When p>
“End of spring. A week p>
A small silence.
Then—
“Yes p>
They arrived on a Thursday.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just… gradually.
Camille first.
Then Julien.
Then Margot and Ethan, almost at the same time.
The small station in èze didn’t feel designed for reunions.
But somehow—
It held one.
“Hi,” Camille said again, as if the word could carry everything it needed to.
Alina smiled.
“Hi p>
They hugged.
Not tightly.
Not desperately.
Just… completely.
“It’s strange,” Julien said as he approached, adjusting his bag.
“What is?” Alina asked.
“You look exactly the same p>
Margot laughed. “No, she doesn’t p>
Ethan nodded. “She doesn’t p>
Alina tilted her head slightly. “Then what changed p>
They exchanged a look.
Camille answered.
“You’re calmer p>
A pause.
“More… here p>
Alina didn’t respond.
Because she understood.
Their week didn’t begin with plans.
It didn’t need to.
The first evening, they went to Elodie’s restaurant.
Not because it was arranged.
But because it felt like the right place to start.
Elodie greeted them warmly.
“So your famous friends visit again,” she said, smiling.
Camille laughed. “We miss this restaurant, Elodie p>
“Of course,” Elodie replied. “As you should. I put spells on our food p>
Margot leaned toward Alina. “Should we be worried p>
“No,” Alina said. “Only slightly p>
They sat at a long table.
The kind that encouraged conversation.
Not separate ones.
But shared.
The food arrived slowly.
Dishes placed in the center.
Not individually ordered.
But meant to be passed.
Shared.
“This is already better than anything we planned,” Ethan said, looking around.
“We didn’t plan anything,” Camille replied.
“Exactly p>
They ate.
Talked.
Paused.
Then talked again.
No one reached for a phone.
No one checked the time.
“Okay,” Margot said at one point, setting her fork down. “I need to say this p>
Everyone looked at her.
“This feels… different p>
“Different how?” Julien asked.
She hesitated.
Then—
“Like we’re not trying to keep up with anything p>
A small silence followed.
Then Camille nodded.
“Yes p>
Alina watched them.
Not as someone hosting.
But as someone… sharing.
Over the next few days, they moved through èze the way people did there.
Without urgency.
Without structure.
They walked.
Not to arrive somewhere.
Just to move.
They stopped at small cafés.
Sat outside.
Watched people pass.
They went to the cinema one evening.
A small one.
Nothing modern.
“This feels like a different era,” Ethan whispered as they took their seats.
“It is,” Alina said softly.
They watched the film.
Quietly.
No interruptions.
No glowing screens in the dark.
Afterward, they didn’t rush out.
They stayed.
Discussed it.
“I didn’t expect that ending,” Camille said.
“It made sense,” Julien replied.
“It did,” Margot agreed. “But I still didn’t expect it p>
They talked about it the entire way back.
One afternoon, they cooked together.
In Elodie’s kitchen.
Not efficiently.
Not skillfully.
“Who’s in charge?” Ethan asked.
“No one,” Alina said.
“That sounds dangerous p>
“It is p>
Flour ended up on the counter.
On the floor.
On someone’s sleeve.
“I think this is wrong,” Camille said, holding a bowl.
“It’s not wrong,” Margot replied. “It’s just… creative p>
“That’s not reassuring p>
They laughed.
Not because it was funny.
But because it was… easy.
At some point, the conversation shifted.
Naturally.
From small things—
To larger ones.
Love.
Work.
Life.
“I used to think we had to figure everything out by now,” Julien said quietly.
“By when?” Ethan asked.
“By this age p>
Camille shook her head. “That’s not real p>
“I know,” he said. “But it felt real p>
A pause.
Then Margot spoke.
“I think we just have… better questions now p>
They sat with that.
Not rushing to answer.
Later that evening, they sat outside.
The sky dimming slowly above them.
The air cooler now.
Camille leaned back in her chair.
Exhaled.
Then said—
“I feel like I went back to my twenties p>
A pause.
Silence followed.
Not empty.
Just… full.
Alina looked at her.
Not surprised.
Because she felt it too.
Not a return.
Not a regression.
A continuation.
They were still themselves.
Still shaped by everything they had lived.
But here—
They weren’t carrying it as weight.
They were just… holding it.
Together.
The week passed the way good time always did.
Not quickly.
Not slowly.
Just… completely.
They revisited places.
Returned to the same café.
The same path.
The same table.
Not because they had to.
But because they wanted to.
By the last day, nothing felt temporary.
Not their presence.
Not their connection.
“This doesn’t feel like a visit,” Ethan said.
“No,” Margot agreed.
“It doesn’t p>
Camille looked at Alina.
“It feels like we just… continued p>
Alina nodded.
“Yes p>
That was the difference.
They hadn’t come back to reconnect.
They had never disconnected.
The distance hadn’t broken anything.
It had only… stretched it.
And now—
It settled again.
Naturally.
At the station, the goodbyes were simple.
No dramatic pauses.
No long speeches.
“We’ll come back,” Julien said.
“I know p>
“And you’ll visit p>
“Yes p>
Camille hugged her again.
“You’re good here,” she said softly.
Alina didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
Because she knew.
As the train pulled away, she stood there for a moment longer.
Watching.
Not holding on.
Not letting go.
Just… acknowledging.
Then she turned.
Walked back.
èze remained as it was.
Quiet.
Grounded.
And her life—
Remained whole.
Not divided between past and present.
Not separated by distance.
But continuous.
Carried by people who didn’t need proximity—
To remain close.
And for the first time she acknowledged it—
She didn’t feel like she had left anything behind.
Because everything that mattered—
Had found its way forward.
With her.