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CHAPTER 12

“Merci de me recevoir.”

(TRANSLATION: Thank you for having me.)

The auditorium rang loud with cheers and claps from the three hundred plus business undergrads giving Saint a standing ovation as he left the stage.

For months his alumni had been trying to invite him as a keynote speaker but he had been too busy to do so until then. Saint's former lecturer shook his hand, placing his other hand on top of their conjoined ones whilst his aged eyes shone with immense gratitude and pride.

Saint smiled to himself thinking of the funny turn of events, it made him almost sad. Here was the lecturer who had thrown him out his class for sleeping and told him he'd never amount to anything in front of everybody and here he was over twenty-three years later Saint-Luc, the fourth wealthiest person in Europe.

He could only give thanks to God and move on. He'd had a long day and so without further ado, he politely ended the conversation saying a few more goodbyes to others before finally leaving the campus.

On a late Friday evening, traffic was bad on Champs-Elysée but Saint didn't mind, it'd be the first time in the day that he'd had time to himself.

Most of the day he'd spent on last minute preparations and going over his upcoming engagements. In the next two weeks he was flying out to seven different countries in three different continents. It was a total mind-fuck for him. It wasn’t so much the travelling or his work, he loved both, but the loneliness that accompanied him at night sleeping on a hotel bed.

Uneasy lies the head who wears the crown.

Remembering one of his favourite quotes, a bitter smile cradled itself on his lip.

For one day, he wished he could shut everything off. To go to an island – maybe buy an island in the Caribbean, take a long nap, maybe read a book, fry lobster that he’d caught fresh from the sea, drink coconut water, eat mangoes, just him – just him and Naomi, talking, laughing, being lovers, loving each other under the sweltering sun.

In Saint's head it was all so simple, she just chose the hard way.

The lights turned green but Saint stalled. Loud, impatient horns sounded from behind him. He needed the spinning in his head to stop. He needed to get home in one piece, and not with a camel load of stress weighing him down. Saint knew that he'd taken his insulin shots, so why he was feeling this way he didn't understand. Eventually and with prayer, Saint was able to get home but he was beyond tired.

One step in and he could already hear his niece's loud voice. At five years old, she was a spitfire. For the last couple of days Amirah and the kids had gone to Toulouse to visit relations of hers that had just arrived from Algeria. Despite the fact that he'd spent years in solitude those few days he'd returned to an empty home had felt awkward for Saint, so knowing that they were back was welcoming for him.

The twins were in the living room watching their favourite Arabic cartoon, but when they saw their uncle they ran straight for him. Ignoring his exhaustion, Saint felt full.

After catching up with the twins, and them returning to watch their programme, he entered the kitchen knowing that's where he would find his sister-in-law, who looked to be making dinner.

His little nephew was joined to his mother’s hip and the only reason he would not be found there was if he was sleeping, which appeared to be the case.

“Comment ça va?”

(TRANSLATION: How are you?)

“Je suis bien. Comment était-Toulouse?”

(TRANSLATION: I'm fine. How was Toulouse?)

“Il est d'accord...” replied Amirah though Saint could sense there was more she wanted to say.

(TRANSLATION: It was okay, y'know...)

“Ce qui s'est passé?” Saint asked knowing she needed that extra push to blurt out what it was that she was finding trouble verbalising.

(TRANSLATION: What happened?)

“Seulement mes tantes indiscrets toujours dans mes affaires. Je dis aux enfants de ne pas leur dire que nous restons avec vous. ”

(TRANSLATION: Just my aunts always prying into my business. I told the kids not to tell them that we're staying with you.)

“Ont-ils réclament leur papa?”

(TRANSLATION: Have they been asking for their dad?)

“Oui, constamment. Il m'a demande jusqu'à vingt fois par jour, mais je ne suis pas prêt à lui parler.”

(TRANSLATION:Yes, constantly. He's been calling me up to twenty times a day but I'm not ready to talk to him.)

Seeing the broken look on Amirah's face really made Saint wish his brother was present so he could punch him to an inch of his life and that's what made what he was about to say even harder.

“Je comprends, vraiment et je ne vous blâme pas pour cela. Merde, si ma mère savait que le type de fils, elle avait... ” that thought very much worried Saint and not wanting to think too much on it, he redirected his thoughts, “mais vous ne pouvez pas utiliser les enfants pour le punir. Je pense vraiment que vous devriez laisser parler à leur papa.”

(TRANSLATION: I get that, I really do and I don't blame you for it. Damn, if my mother knew the type of son she had – but you can't use the kids to punish him. I really think you should let them talk to their dad.)

For a brief moment Amirah did not say anything as she washed the utensils she used. “Oui je sais, je vais leur parler de lui après le dîner."

(TRANSLATION: Yes I know, I'll let them talk to him after dinner.)

Saint almost missed what she'd said afterwards as the sweet smell of the beef bourguignon baking in the oven overwhelmed his senses for a bit.

“Je ne comprends pas pourquoi je l'aime toujours,” she said as slow tears slipped out of her eyes, “ce temps il a m'a frappé parce que je accidentellement lavé sa chemise préférée et il rétréci.”

(TRANSLATION: I don't understand why I still love him – this time he hit me because I’d accidentally washed his favourite shirt and it shrunk.)

Saint couldn't collate in his head how that would be deemed as an appropriate excuse to hit his wife.

Sniffing a little she lifted one shoulder to dry her eyes. “Vous savez comment il est ... il essaie de démarrer sa propre firme et de travailler sur ce projet à Copenhague, puis il-”

(TRANSLATION:You know how he is…he’s trying to start his own firm and working on that project in Copenhagen and then he has -)

“Arrêt! Arrêter de faire excuses pour lui. Il est responsable de lui-même et comment il agit. Vous n'êtes pas obligé de le défendre.”

(TRANSLATION: Stop! Stop making excuses for him. He’s responsible for himself and how he acts. You don't need to defend him.)

Saint walked closer to his sister in law, giving her a side hug. “Je vous dis, Saint Yann est un homme chanceux d'avoir une femme comme vous. Si cela ne tenait qu'à moi, il serait en prison maintenant.”

(TRANSLATION: I'm telling you, Saint Yann is one lucky man to have a wife like you. If it was up to me he'd be in prison by now.)

“Je ne peux pas faire cela, vous connaissez la culture ...”

(TRANSLATION: I can't do that, you know the culture...)

Saint got really frustrated from her response.“ Encule culture. Il oublie la culture aussi quand il a mis la main sur vous.”

(TRANSLATION: Fuck culture. He forgets culture too when he puts his hand on you.)

“Mais les gens vont parler.”

(TRANSLATION: But people will talk.)

“Qui se soucie?”

(TRANSLATION: Who cares?)

“ Les enfants...”

(TRANSLATION: The kids...)

Saint-Luc was rendered speechless and let out a sigh. That was something he knew he had no say on. He knew the effects of being a child of divorced parents and it wasn't something he wished for his nephews and niece.

Before he could say anything else, Amirah spoke first letting out an angry sigh rubbing at her eyes.

“Je suis malade et fatigué de pleurer, je besoin d'un changement de sujet,” she said whilst grabbing some tissue and blowing into it. “Donc, à propos de votre femme?”

(TRANSLATION: I'm sick and tired of crying, I need a change of topic – So about your wife? )

His least favourite topic of discussion, simply because it was nobody's business. Saint had admitted to Amirah of his marriage after the brief encounter she had with Naomi, but had refused to answer anymore questions that day, but knowing his sister-in-law it was only a matter of time before curiosity got the best of her. “Qu'en ma femme?”

(TRANSLATION: What about my wife?)

“Commençons par vous me dire comment diable vous vous êtes marié et ne pas laisser quelqu'un sait?”

(TRANSLATION: Let's start with you telling me how in the hell you got married and not let anyone know? )

He was man enough to admit to himself when he was hurt and the truth was he couldn't even think about his wife without feeling a stab of pain in his heart. A nineteen year old and she’d crushed him until he was her foot size.

“Il n'y a vraiment rien à dire.”

(TRANSLATION: There’s really nothing to tell.)

“Aimez-vous les uns les autres?”

(TRANSLATION: Do you love each other?)

“Je l'aime.”

(TRANSLATION: I love her.)

“Elle ne vous aime?”

(TRANSLATION: She doesn't? )

“Qui sait?''

(TRANSLATION: Who knows?)

“Vous pensez qu'elle est après votre argent?”

(TRANSLATION: You think she's after your money?)

At the question, Saint snorted. “Elle est.”

(TRANSLATION: She is. )

“Et vous êtes d'accord avec ça ?!” asked Amirah with an incredulous look on her face.

(TRANSLATION: And you're okay with that?!)

“Je jamais dit que je l'étais.”

(TRANSLATION: I never said I was.)

“Et vous ne dit que tu étais pas aux navires: combien de temps étiez-vous deux ensemble avant que vous êtes marié?”

(TRANSLATION: And you never said you wasn't either – how long were you two together for before you got married? )

“Un mois.”

(TRANSLATION: A month.)

“Je suis si confus Saint Luc. Comment pourriez-vous ... comment pourriez-vous prendre une décision soi-”

(TRANSLATION: I'm so confused Saint Luc. How could you...how could you make a decision so- )

“Spontané?”

(TRANSLATION: Spontaneous?)

“No. Stupide, Saint-Luc, très stupide.”

(TRANSLATION: No. Stupid, Saint- Luc, very stupid.)

It was at this moment that Saint wanted to point out that her and his brother dated for five years and it was only after they got married that the bastard showed his true colours, but he relented. He didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Not commenting on her response he said, “Je l'apprécierais si vous avez gardé cela pour vous. S'il vous plaît.”

(TRANSLATION: I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself. Please.)

Amirah knowing that asking him anymore questions would be pointless, she nodded her head in agreement.

An hour later after having his dinner he finally went up to work, but not before Amirah told him of a package that was delivered earlier in the day that she left in his office.

Now in his personal space, Saint rang his friend. Whilst talking to Youseff on loudspeaker about his impending trip to Doha, he'd picked up a pair of scissors to open the medium sized cardboard box on his desk addressed to him.

It turned out to be a sewing machine. He looked at the invoice and saw that his wife had bought it with her card.

“Saint-Luc! Saint-Luc, écoutez-vous ?!”

(TRANSLATION: Saint-Luc! Saint-Luc, are you listening?!)

Momentarily distracted, Saint had forgotten about his friend on the other end of the phone. “Oui.”

As he bent down to place the box on his floor, he became seriously dizzy just like he'd been on the way home and Youseff's voice now started sounding like echoes. He closed his eyes tight once again, trying to keep his balance by gradually standing still.

“Saint êtes-vous d'accord?”

(TRANSLATION: Saint are you okay?)

The dizziness once again dissipated a little and he managed to get himself seated. “Vous vous inquiétez trop Youssef, je vais bien.”

(TRANSLATION: You worry too much Youseff, I'm fine.)

“Tu le son ivre.”

(TRANSLATION: You sound drunk.)

Funnily enough, he wasn’t. Though now that Youseff had mentioned it, the thought of having a drink didn’t seem so bad to him.

“Je suis bien,” Saint said reassuring his friend again though he knew he was far from fine.

(TRANSLATION: I’m fine.)

After ending the call, Saint put the phone back on the receiver, sighing a little. He got up and walked over to his mini bar to pour himself a little whisky but he wished he was slurping on his wife. Swirling his cup gently, Saint chuckled to himself at how pathetic he sounded to himself.

Returning back to his desk, Saint turned on his computer and got out all the necessary files from his briefcase. When all else failed, there was always more work to do.

By the time Saint knew it it was past one in the morning. There was still so much research he needed to do for a negotiating deal he was working on but he was not used to sleeping this late at night, and he was struggling to stay awake.

Talking to himself out of going to bed, he set his timer to fifteen minutes for a power nap. Clearing some of his notes to the side, he put his arms on his desk as pillow before placing his head on it and almost immediately dozing off.

 

 

 






Chapter End Notes:

A.N: Hey guys, so sorry for the late update. I've been so extra busy. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, don't be shy to comment lol.


Oh and yes, Saint-Luc's sister-in-laws name has been changed to Amirah, just to clear up any confusion.


The next chapter should be out by Sunday Godwilling!!!


Thank you all so much for the support.


Have a lovely day and Godbless :-).







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.