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CHAPTER 26

 

''Alors, qu'est-ce qu'elle veut?"

(Translation: So what does she want?)

Saint-Luc swirled his whisky glass round looking at the bottomless pit that seemed to be his problems as he listened to the response on the other end of the phone.

“Pourquoi devrais-je accepter ces termes? ''

(Translation: Why should I agree to those terms?)

He grabbed onto the glass a little tighter as the anger started to consume him. The pounding in his head was getting worse each moment that went by.

“Et Etienne?”

(Translation: What about Etienne?)

And before anything else could be further said Saint-Luc heard loud desperate knocks from his office door.

“Oncle, oncle!”

(Translation: Uncle, uncle!)

“Pier laisse moi te rappeler. ”

(Translation: Pier let me call you back.)

Without waiting for his lawyer's response, Saint-Luc ended the call.

Placing the receiver back on the handle he got up from his seat. The twins knew not to disturb him when he was in his office but ever since the death of their grandmother he had been at extra alert to make sure they were okay.

Even though they were relatively young at six years old, they had had a special bond with their grandmother and it had been left to Saint-Luc to announce her passing and console them the morning after since their parents had been too distraught to do so.

Spending time with his niece and nephew always stirred his desire to have children.

He could just imagine how beautiful and prescious his and Naomi's babies would be. He had the primal need to procreate with her. To have his seed grow inside her and watch as her belly stretched to accommodate the labour of their love.

Sighing, he opened the door. The forced smile he'd had immediately dropped at one look at the twins' faces. “Quel est le problème?”

(Translation: What's wrong?)

“Maman et papa se battent.”

(Translation: Mummy and daddy are fighting.)

All prior existing problems vanished from his head in an instant. “Où sont-ils?”

(Translation: Where are they?)

“Dans la cuisine,” his niece said with tears glazing her eyes.

(Translation: In the kitchen)

Reassuring twins that everything would be okay, he ordered them to stay in their rooms until they were called to come out.

Saint-Luc braced himself for what he would see as he ran down the stairs heading to the direction of the kitchen.

From the living room he could hear screaming and shouting but before he handled the situation his eyes averted to the moses basket next to the couch. Seeing his baby nephew still sleeping he went in to the kitchen.

What he saw when he got there made his brewing anger return even more potent.

Just as he stepped inside the kitchen he saw Saint-Yann laying a slap on Amirah's cheek. Ignoring her pained gasps he pointed an accusing finger at her speaking in Arabic.

“la tas'alni min 'ay waqt mmadaa.”

(Translation: Don't ever question me.)

Enough was enough.

In a flash he had separated Amirah and Saint-Yann, putting her behind him and without hesitation delivered a blow to Saint-Yann's face.

“Êtes-vous fou Yanni?”

(Translation: Are you fucking crazy Yanni?)

He stumbled back but was able to retain his balance. Saint-Luc looked at his brother's face and couldn't believe he was his blood. There was no soul in his eyes.

In the next second Saint-Yann had punched him in his gut. He heard Amirah shriek as he doubled over in pain.

With renewed energy Saint-Luc stood up straight, and grabbed Saint-Yann by the throat before slamming him against the fridge.

He heard things falling and crashing around them but that was just background music.

Saint-Luc lost count of how many punches he threw but at some point thoughts of their mother came to mind.

A few days before her death, he had told him her and their father had always been proud of their achievements as their children but that now Saint-Luc now had to be the protector of their family.

Despite this, Ayda had said how their father and her had always been worried about the estranged relationship between both brothers, and Saint-Luc being the oldest needed to find a way to live in peace with his brother.

Yet it'd been barely a month since they'd buried their mother and they wre fighting like the worst of enemies.

After they'd come back from Abu Dhabi, Saint-Luc thought it would be wise to have his brother close to keep an eye on him, so Yann's firm had re-assigned him to Paris for a new project.

He thought that all of them living together would be the start to amending their broken relationship. Saint-Luc had felt closer to his brother, closer than he had been in many years the few weeks leading to their mother's death.

But now that was a thing of the past.

The piercing cries of his nephew was what broke Saint-Luc out the angry stupor he was tranced in. He looked from Saint-Yann's bloody face to Amirah's tear-stricken and swollen cheek to back to his brother again.

“Votre femme et ses enfants vont rester avec moi. Je vous donne quinze minutes pour emballer votre merde et partir. Sinon, j'appelle la police.”

(Translation: Your wife and children will stay with me. I'm giving you fifteen minutes to pack up your shit and leave. If not, I'm calling the police.)

Saint-Luc couldn't do it anymore. He could try to be his brother's keeper but he didn't need to keep him in his house.

Or it would be Cain and Abel all over again.

 

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Chapter End Notes:

A.N: I'm so sorry for the late update, was supposed to have this out on Monday but life – urgh. Hope you enjoyed reading this either way.

I met a man last week who has made me fall in love with Arabic poetry, so if anybody knows any good ones let me know.

My latest short essay is on my site, “We Are In Utopia”. Here's the link: http://www.theefectivetimes.com/2017/04/efes-thoughts-in-april.html

Have a great weekend and God Bless :-).







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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.