the quiet hum of the evening settled around you like a weight as you sat alone in the magnan’s dining room, hunched over your philosophy book. the room was charming in an old-fashioned way: warm, amber light fell softly against floral wallpaper, casting a sleepy glow over the worn wooden table where you poured over assignments. faint sounds drifted in from the butchery, where michelle was helping her mother close up.

when the door creaked open, you looked up, expecting michelle—but it was her older brother, jean-pierre. his frame filled the doorway, casting a slight shadow over the room. he gave a nod, a gesture so small you’d have missed it if you weren’t looking, before settling onto the couch across the room. he seemed to absorb the dim light, his expression relaxed yet distant, the lines of his face hardened by an easy indifference.

you returned to your book, trying not to notice his presence too keenly. you knew he’d just returned from a disciplinary meeting, the rumor of his near-expulsion still fresh on the tongues of students at volitaire high. somehow, he’d emerged only with a suspension and a prohibition from soccer, his one true outlet. yet he seemed almost liberated by it all, as if untethered from the institution’s expectations.

after a moment, his voice broke the silence, steady and unexpectedly intense. “you know, michelle looks up to you,” he said, his eyes barely lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. “i hope… you don’t lead her astray.” his tone carried a subtle accusation.