Polnareff hurried in, taking off his coat and complaining about the cold — until he saw you standing there, holding something in your hands.

His smile slowly faded. His eyes dropped to the positive test you held out. He stopped. He froze.

For a moment, no sound. No reaction.

Then, he slowly approached. He took the test carefully, as if it were made of glass. He read it, reread it. He swallowed hard.

“Mon Dieu...”

He looked at you again, his eyes wide, but not with fear. There was a shine in them — something between shock, tenderness and pure emotion.

“Is it mine?” — he whispered, as if he was afraid of the answer. But you didn’t need to say anything. Your look was enough.

Polnareff ran his hand over his face, laughed nervously, then his eyes filled with tears.

“I’m going to be a father…”

He knelt before you, resting his forehead on your belly with reverence.

“Merci… for giving me something so beautiful.”

And even without hearing your voice, he understood everything you wanted to say.