The silence of the house at three in the morning held no sense of dread. For Fred, it felt more like a miracle.
Sitting on the edge of the bed he shared with his wife, his feet planted firmly in the cool carpet, he adjusted his glasses with a habitual gesture and ran a weary hand through his short, slightly dull-blonde hair. At forty-five, Fred had grown accustomed to his own physique: that of a tall geek—six-foot-four—who was too thin and a bit awkward, never quite knowing what to do with his long limbs. He had never considered himself particularly handsome, and his lack of self-confidence had often led him to stay in the background. Yet, beneath that shell of an unassuming man lay a heart of gold—an altruist by nature, always ready to bend over backwards for others.
He listened to the steady rhythm of his wife Caroline’s breathing as she slept beside him. Just a few months earlier, the very idea that this woman might share his life, carry his child, and sleep peacefully under his roof would have seemed like pure science fiction. She had scammed him and vanished, yet fate had brought her back into his life—transformed. She was gentler, more attentive, and free of her old demons. It was the kind of second chance life rarely offers.
Fred rose silently—his tall frame nearly brushing the top of the doorway—and slipped into the baby’s room.
The nightlight cast constellations of glowing dots across the white walls. Adam was sleeping on his back, his tiny fists clenched on either side of his head. Fred leaned over the crib, his heart flooded by a wave of love so intense it nearly took his breath away.
It was while watching his son that a strange feeling—yet another one—brushed across his mind. Adam was three months old, and he had never once cried. Not a bout of colic, not a tear to demand his bottle, not a single night of terror. The infant was content to let out a soft, melodious coo to signal his hunger, and his nights were as regular as Swiss clockwork. Just last week, during a check-up, the pediatrician had frowned thoughtfully at the growth charts. "It’s fascinating," the doctor had said, palpating the baby’s small limbs. "His immune system is incredibly robust for his age. Not a hint of reflux, perfect muscle tone... You’re a lucky man; your son is a perfect specimen."
Perfect. The word echoed strangely in Fred’s mind.
Suddenly, Adam opened his eyes. Two dark orbs, disarmingly deep, locked onto Fred’s gaze. There was none of the unfocused or wandering look typical of babies that age. Adam was watching his father with an acuity, an attentiveness that seemed almost... conscious. Fred smiled at him, feeling an inexplicable shiver run down his spine. Adam closed his eyes and immediately fell back asleep.
Fred returned to the master bedroom. Caroline had shifted, uncovering her face. By the light of the moon filtering through the curtains, Fred gazed at the thirty-nine-year-old woman. Standing five-foot-five, slender and quite pretty, she still exuded a unique aura, even in sleep. Her long brown hair was spread across the pillow, framing a face marked by a fine scar above her eyebrow—the remnant of an old assault. She was a rebel against society, a woman of strong character who never let anyone walk all over her and who hid her vulnerabilities behind a sharp, prickly demeanor. Fred knew her secrets—like the deep-seated insecurity she’d always felt about her small breasts, which she often tried to hide beneath loose-fitting clothes.
Fred slid under the covers and gently wrapped his arm around her waist. She snuggled against him with a warm sigh, never waking up.
He loved her madly. And yet, a small shadow had been hanging over their happiness for the past few days.
The night before, while they were having a candlelight dinner to celebrate her return from the maternity ward, Fred had pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He had proposed. A real wedding, a celebration, making their new life official. Caroline’s reaction had chilled him. She hadn’t jumped for joy. On the contrary, her face had gone rigid, a look of sheer panic flashing in her eyes.
"I can't, Fred," she had whispered, her hands trembling. "You know what I did in the past... I’m still dealing with legal issues, paperwork, having to answer for things... An official marriage would draw the authorities' attention to us—to my past as a con artist... I’m afraid it would ruin everything. Please, don't ask me to do that."
She had looked so distraught that Fred instantly felt guilty. Seeing such a strong-willed woman look so vulnerable had completely disarmed him. They had eventually compromised on a civil partnership—a...
Sitting on the edge of the bed he shared with his wife, his feet planted firmly in the cool carpet, he adjusted his glasses with a habitual gesture and ran a weary hand through his short, slightly dull-blonde hair. At forty-five, Fred had grown accustomed to his own physique: that of a tall geek—six-foot-four—who was too thin and a bit awkward, never quite knowing what to do with his long limbs. He had never considered himself particularly handsome, and his lack of self-confidence had often led him to stay in the background. Yet, beneath that shell of an unassuming man lay a heart of gold—an altruist by nature, always ready to bend over backwards for others.
He listened to the steady rhythm of his wife Caroline’s breathing as she slept beside him. Just a few months earlier, the very idea that this woman might share his life, carry his child, and sleep peacefully under his roof would have seemed like pure science fiction. She had scammed him and vanished, yet fate had brought her back into his life—transformed. She was gentler, more attentive, and free of her old demons. It was the kind of second chance life rarely offers.
Fred rose silently—his tall frame nearly brushing the top of the doorway—and slipped into the baby’s room.
The nightlight cast constellations of glowing dots across the white walls. Adam was sleeping on his back, his tiny fists clenched on either side of his head. Fred leaned over the crib, his heart flooded by a wave of love so intense it nearly took his breath away.
It was while watching his son that a strange feeling—yet another one—brushed across his mind. Adam was three months old, and he had never once cried. Not a bout of colic, not a tear to demand his bottle, not a single night of terror. The infant was content to let out a soft, melodious coo to signal his hunger, and his nights were as regular as Swiss clockwork. Just last week, during a check-up, the pediatrician had frowned thoughtfully at the growth charts. "It’s fascinating," the doctor had said, palpating the baby’s small limbs. "His immune system is incredibly robust for his age. Not a hint of reflux, perfect muscle tone... You’re a lucky man; your son is a perfect specimen."
Perfect. The word echoed strangely in Fred’s mind.
Suddenly, Adam opened his eyes. Two dark orbs, disarmingly deep, locked onto Fred’s gaze. There was none of the unfocused or wandering look typical of babies that age. Adam was watching his father with an acuity, an attentiveness that seemed almost... conscious. Fred smiled at him, feeling an inexplicable shiver run down his spine. Adam closed his eyes and immediately fell back asleep.
Fred returned to the master bedroom. Caroline had shifted, uncovering her face. By the light of the moon filtering through the curtains, Fred gazed at the thirty-nine-year-old woman. Standing five-foot-five, slender and quite pretty, she still exuded a unique aura, even in sleep. Her long brown hair was spread across the pillow, framing a face marked by a fine scar above her eyebrow—the remnant of an old assault. She was a rebel against society, a woman of strong character who never let anyone walk all over her and who hid her vulnerabilities behind a sharp, prickly demeanor. Fred knew her secrets—like the deep-seated insecurity she’d always felt about her small breasts, which she often tried to hide beneath loose-fitting clothes.
Fred slid under the covers and gently wrapped his arm around her waist. She snuggled against him with a warm sigh, never waking up.
He loved her madly. And yet, a small shadow had been hanging over their happiness for the past few days.
The night before, while they were having a candlelight dinner to celebrate her return from the maternity ward, Fred had pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He had proposed. A real wedding, a celebration, making their new life official. Caroline’s reaction had chilled him. She hadn’t jumped for joy. On the contrary, her face had gone rigid, a look of sheer panic flashing in her eyes.
"I can't, Fred," she had whispered, her hands trembling. "You know what I did in the past... I’m still dealing with legal issues, paperwork, having to answer for things... An official marriage would draw the authorities' attention to us—to my past as a con artist... I’m afraid it would ruin everything. Please, don't ask me to do that."
She had looked so distraught that Fred instantly felt guilty. Seeing such a strong-willed woman look so vulnerable had completely disarmed him. They had eventually compromised on a civil partnership—a...
Chapiter 2
The subway corridors
For Fred, days at the technical department of the telecommunications company where he had worked for over a decade were all much the same. It was a world of servers, lines of code, and data streams—a world that offered him a sense of security. There, behind his dual monitors, his imposing height and lack of self-confidence faded into the background, overshadowed by his expertise. He was valued for his calm demeanor, his impeccable logic, and his natural altruism; he was always ready to help a colleague troubleshoot a complex network routing issue.
That Tuesday, the day had gone off without a hitch. As his shift ended, Fred plunged into the crowded corridors of the Paris Métro to head home, his mind already drifting toward his wife’s smile and Adam’s happy babbling.
It was at the Line 9 transfer point that Fred’s world wavered.
The tide of commuters was pushing him forward, but Fred’s gaze was drawn to a figure walking against the flow. A young woman, about 1.65 meters tall, wearing a worn-out denim jacket that was a size too big. Fred stopped dead in his tracks; his towering 1.92-meter frame caused a slight ripple in the stream of hurried passengers.
His heart skipped a beat. A massive, visceral doubt seized him. Caroline?
It was her long brown hair, her slightly rough, rebellious gait. Yet her face looked worn, tired, and aged by time—a far cry from the radiant look of the woman who shared his bed. Driven by an instinct he couldn't explain, he cut through the crowd and approached her.
"Caroline?" he called out, his voice hesitant.
The woman started and turned around. As their eyes met, Fred spotted the faint scar above her eyebrow. It was her. But just as she stopped to face him, a waft of air carried a familiar, lingering scent toward him: stale tobacco and cheap cigarettes.
The detail hit him like a punch to the gut. Caroline had always been a heavy smoker—a total chimney. Yet, upon her unexpected return to his life a year earlier, she had claimed to have quit cold turkey. The Caroline he knew at home never touched a cigarette, never smelled of smoke, and the very idea of relapsing seemed far removed from her. Why did this woman reek so strongly of tobacco?
The young woman’s eyes widened; she looked visibly uncomfortable as she nervously adjusted her bag. "Fred?" she whispered, her voice raspier than he remembered. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."
"What... what are you doing here?" Fred stammered, adjusting his glasses as his brain went into overdrive. "And this look... that jacket?"
She cast a shifty glance around her before sighing, a glint of bitterness in her eyes. "Look, Fred... about what happened back then... the money... I’m really sorry I scammed you. I’ve paid my debt. I just got out of prison; it was a long, ugly ordeal. I’ve decided to start my life over, to put all my old scams and bad company behind me. I’m not asking for anything; I’m not looking for trouble."
Fred stared at her, his body completely numb. His professional instincts as a hunter of computer vulnerabilities kicked in despite himself, piecing the facts together with icy logic. If the Caroline standing before him—reeking of nicotine—had just been released after a long stint in prison... then who was the non-smoking woman who had been looking after Adam and living with him for months?
A sudden surge in the crowd, caused by an arriving train, forced them apart. Panicked and bewildered by the situation, Fred tried to follow her—her tall figure rising above the throng—but he lost sight of her for good on the escalators.
He made the journey home in a complete daze.
When he walked through his apartment door, the comforting aroma of dinner greeted him. His partner stepped toward him, smiling. She was slender and pretty, wearing a loose T-shirt that concealed her small breasts, and she exuded a sense of freshness.
Fred said nothing. He sat down in the living room and took the time to watch her every move. He observed the way she cleared the table, her gentle gestures, her posture. Nothing about her betrayed the worn-out woman from the subway. Not a trace of the smell of tobacco. Nothing but the delicate perfume he knew so well. She was a perfect replica, and yet, doubt had infiltrated his mind like a virus.
Finally, she approached him, frowning at his unusual silence.
"Are you okay, darling? You look pale. A bad day at Telecom?"
Fred took a deep breath, locked eyes with her, and asked a question meticulously calculated to test her reactions:
"I ran into you this morning on my way to work, Caroline. Why did you seem so different? ? Et... pourquoi tu étais habillée comme ça, avec cette vieille veste en jean ? And... why were you dressed like that, in that old denim jacket?
That Tuesday, the day had gone off without a hitch. As his shift ended, Fred plunged into the crowded corridors of the Paris Métro to head home, his mind already drifting toward his wife’s smile and Adam’s happy babbling.
It was at the Line 9 transfer point that Fred’s world wavered.
The tide of commuters was pushing him forward, but Fred’s gaze was drawn to a figure walking against the flow. A young woman, about 1.65 meters tall, wearing a worn-out denim jacket that was a size too big. Fred stopped dead in his tracks; his towering 1.92-meter frame caused a slight ripple in the stream of hurried passengers.
His heart skipped a beat. A massive, visceral doubt seized him. Caroline?
It was her long brown hair, her slightly rough, rebellious gait. Yet her face looked worn, tired, and aged by time—a far cry from the radiant look of the woman who shared his bed. Driven by an instinct he couldn't explain, he cut through the crowd and approached her.
"Caroline?" he called out, his voice hesitant.
The woman started and turned around. As their eyes met, Fred spotted the faint scar above her eyebrow. It was her. But just as she stopped to face him, a waft of air carried a familiar, lingering scent toward him: stale tobacco and cheap cigarettes.
The detail hit him like a punch to the gut. Caroline had always been a heavy smoker—a total chimney. Yet, upon her unexpected return to his life a year earlier, she had claimed to have quit cold turkey. The Caroline he knew at home never touched a cigarette, never smelled of smoke, and the very idea of relapsing seemed far removed from her. Why did this woman reek so strongly of tobacco?
The young woman’s eyes widened; she looked visibly uncomfortable as she nervously adjusted her bag. "Fred?" she whispered, her voice raspier than he remembered. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."
"What... what are you doing here?" Fred stammered, adjusting his glasses as his brain went into overdrive. "And this look... that jacket?"
She cast a shifty glance around her before sighing, a glint of bitterness in her eyes. "Look, Fred... about what happened back then... the money... I’m really sorry I scammed you. I’ve paid my debt. I just got out of prison; it was a long, ugly ordeal. I’ve decided to start my life over, to put all my old scams and bad company behind me. I’m not asking for anything; I’m not looking for trouble."
Fred stared at her, his body completely numb. His professional instincts as a hunter of computer vulnerabilities kicked in despite himself, piecing the facts together with icy logic. If the Caroline standing before him—reeking of nicotine—had just been released after a long stint in prison... then who was the non-smoking woman who had been looking after Adam and living with him for months?
A sudden surge in the crowd, caused by an arriving train, forced them apart. Panicked and bewildered by the situation, Fred tried to follow her—her tall figure rising above the throng—but he lost sight of her for good on the escalators.
He made the journey home in a complete daze.
When he walked through his apartment door, the comforting aroma of dinner greeted him. His partner stepped toward him, smiling. She was slender and pretty, wearing a loose T-shirt that concealed her small breasts, and she exuded a sense of freshness.
Fred said nothing. He sat down in the living room and took the time to watch her every move. He observed the way she cleared the table, her gentle gestures, her posture. Nothing about her betrayed the worn-out woman from the subway. Not a trace of the smell of tobacco. Nothing but the delicate perfume he knew so well. She was a perfect replica, and yet, doubt had infiltrated his mind like a virus.
Finally, she approached him, frowning at his unusual silence.
"Are you okay, darling? You look pale. A bad day at Telecom?"
Fred took a deep breath, locked eyes with her, and asked a question meticulously calculated to test her reactions:
"I ran into you this morning on my way to work, Caroline. Why did you seem so different? ? Et... pourquoi tu étais habillée comme ça, avec cette vieille veste en jean ? And... why were you dressed like that, in that old denim jacket?
Chapiter 3
Lies of the heart
That night, Caroline poured every ounce of intensity she possessed into the moment. In the dim light of their bedroom, the love she showed Fred transformed into a consuming passion. It was a torrid, almost feverish night, where every caress and every breath seemed to cry out her need to hold onto him. Fred let himself be swept away by the tide, responding to her embrace with the full force of his feelings. Yet deep down—beneath the intoxication of their bodies—the technician’s mind remained alert. He sensed that this sudden fervor was an attempt to make him forget the specters of the subway.
The next morning, the soft light of dawn bathed the kitchen. The comforting aroma of hot coffee and toasted bread hung in the air. As always, Caroline had prepared everything with meticulous care. She gently cradled Adam with one arm while pouring Fred’s coffee as he sat down at the table.
Fred adjusted his glasses—his tall, six-foot-four frame slightly hunched over his bowl—and watched the idyllic scene. He took a breath, his heart of gold warring with his relentless logic, then broke the silence in a voice he tried to keep detached:
"Caroline... I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday. About your twin sister. Could you tell me a bit more about her? What’s her name?"
She set the coffee pot down gently, her face wearing an expression of soft sadness.
"Her name is Laetitia. She’s... she’s a con artist, Fred. A real professional. She’s spent her life manipulating people, using our resemblance to run away from her responsibilities."
Fred stirred his coffee, his gaze fixed.
"Has she ever pretended to be you? To pull off her scams?" The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy with subtext. Caroline wore a pained expression, lowering her eyes toward Adam.
"Yes," she breathed. "Far too often. And that’s exactly why I wanted to erase her from my life at all costs—and why I didn't tell you anything. Laetitia is insane, Fred. When I was attacked and left with that mark above my eyebrow, she realized our greatest asset had just been damaged. Do you know what she did? She deliberately gave herself the same injury. She inflicted the same scar on herself, in the exact same spot, just so she could keep impersonating me whenever it suited her."
Fred stopped dead, his spoon hovering over his bowl. The explanation was terrifying—almost unthinkable—yet it fit the profile of a high-functioning sociopath perfectly.
"That’s... that’s monstrous," he murmured, feigning shock at the revelation.
"It is," Caroline replied, placing her hand on his shoulder, her eyes welling up with tears. "That’s why I’m so desperate to forget that so-called sister of mine. She represents everything I want to leave behind. My life is here now. With you and Adam."
Fred nodded and pulled his wife into his arms, holding her tight. He was playing the part of the reassured husband. But while Caroline’s face was buried against his shoulder, Fred’s expression turned dark and analytical. The story of the evil twin who self-mutilated for financial gain was a brilliant explanation. Too brilliant. Almost like something out of a movie script.
As he left for work at Telecom that morning, Fred knew the doubt would never leave him. The engineer in him had decided he would no longer settle for mere words. He needed concrete proof.
The next morning, the soft light of dawn bathed the kitchen. The comforting aroma of hot coffee and toasted bread hung in the air. As always, Caroline had prepared everything with meticulous care. She gently cradled Adam with one arm while pouring Fred’s coffee as he sat down at the table.
Fred adjusted his glasses—his tall, six-foot-four frame slightly hunched over his bowl—and watched the idyllic scene. He took a breath, his heart of gold warring with his relentless logic, then broke the silence in a voice he tried to keep detached:
"Caroline... I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday. About your twin sister. Could you tell me a bit more about her? What’s her name?"
She set the coffee pot down gently, her face wearing an expression of soft sadness.
"Her name is Laetitia. She’s... she’s a con artist, Fred. A real professional. She’s spent her life manipulating people, using our resemblance to run away from her responsibilities."
Fred stirred his coffee, his gaze fixed.
"Has she ever pretended to be you? To pull off her scams?" The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy with subtext. Caroline wore a pained expression, lowering her eyes toward Adam.
"Yes," she breathed. "Far too often. And that’s exactly why I wanted to erase her from my life at all costs—and why I didn't tell you anything. Laetitia is insane, Fred. When I was attacked and left with that mark above my eyebrow, she realized our greatest asset had just been damaged. Do you know what she did? She deliberately gave herself the same injury. She inflicted the same scar on herself, in the exact same spot, just so she could keep impersonating me whenever it suited her."
Fred stopped dead, his spoon hovering over his bowl. The explanation was terrifying—almost unthinkable—yet it fit the profile of a high-functioning sociopath perfectly.
"That’s... that’s monstrous," he murmured, feigning shock at the revelation.
"It is," Caroline replied, placing her hand on his shoulder, her eyes welling up with tears. "That’s why I’m so desperate to forget that so-called sister of mine. She represents everything I want to leave behind. My life is here now. With you and Adam."
Fred nodded and pulled his wife into his arms, holding her tight. He was playing the part of the reassured husband. But while Caroline’s face was buried against his shoulder, Fred’s expression turned dark and analytical. The story of the evil twin who self-mutilated for financial gain was a brilliant explanation. Too brilliant. Almost like something out of a movie script.
As he left for work at Telecom that morning, Fred knew the doubt would never leave him. The engineer in him had decided he would no longer settle for mere words. He needed concrete proof.
Chapiter 4
Volatile traces
In the days that followed, Fred threw himself into his work with frenetic diligence—or at least, that was how it appeared. Behind his monitors in the telecommunications company’s technical department, his eyes were doing more than just monitoring the usual network traffic. Fred’s engineer’s mind kept circling back to the pieces of this increasingly absurd puzzle. Laetitia—the evil twin with the identical scar—remained an explanation that was simply too perfect to be true.
Fred needed a lead, a concrete starting point. One evening at his desk, while putting away his wallet, he stumbled upon an old scrap of paper folded into quarters—something that had been forgotten in one of the inner pockets for over a year.
It was a flyer printed on cheap paper, the kind that used to get dropped in his mailbox: *“Marabout & Clairvoyant – Solutions for singles, bringing back a lost love, success.”*
Fred stared at the paper, a bitter smile playing on his lips. He remembered the dark period following the scam Caroline had pulled on him. Desperate, he had contacted this mysterious Black woman for a consultation. It was during that secret meeting that he had opened up like never before, pouring out his hurt, his loneliness, and his lingering love for the ex who had just cleaned him out. The marabout had promised him a spell to bring Caroline back. A few weeks later, Caroline had indeed reappeared on his doorstep, claiming she had changed. At the time, his heart of gold and his naivety had led him to believe it was an incredible coincidence—or even a miracle. Now, his engineer’s brain saw it as a major security breach.
“Hey, Fred! Done zoning out at your screen?”
Fred jumped. Sylvain, an engineer colleague from the next department over, had just sat on the edge of his desk. Sylvain was a confirmed bachelor and a fan of dating apps who spent his time complaining about his loneliness.
On a sudden hunch, Fred handed him the crumpled slip of paper.
"Here, take a look at this. I came across it while tidying up. It’s for a spiritual healer. Apparently, she works miracles for singles. You should give it a shot."
Sylvain grabbed the flyer with a mocking laugh.
"Cut the crap, Fred. Do you really believe in that charlatan stuff? Then again, given how desperate I am right now, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll take a look."
Fred nodded, a specific plan in mind. As telecom experts, he and Sylvain spent their days handling databases and network infrastructure. If there was anything suspicious about that phone number or address, Sylvain would spot it in a couple of clicks while trying to book an appointment.
The next afternoon, Sylvain stopped by Fred’s desk again, the flyer in hand, looking deeply annoyed.
"That healer scheme of yours is a bust, Fred. I tried calling the number this morning just for a laugh: the line’s dead—not assigned to anyone—and according to our own network’s routing logs, the number was cancelled exactly a year ago. Same goes for her office address; I checked the property records: the place has been empty and up for rent for ages. Your fortune teller has completely vanished into thin air."
Fred felt an icy shiver run down his spine.
"Vanished?" he repeated, his voice drained of color.
"Yeah, a real ghost. It’s as if she opened that line and that office just long enough for a few consultations, then wiped everything clean the moment she got what she wanted."
Sylvain tossed the paper into the trash and walked away, shrugging. As for Fred, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the wastebasket. A temporary phone line, a pop-up office—set up just long enough to gather the confidences of a broken man, then shut down for good the moment Caroline returned to his life...
The system hadn't suffered a glitch; it had been hacked. Someone had meticulously orchestrated Caroline’s return, and that spiritual healer held the key. Fred realized he had to track down this mysterious clairvoyant if he wanted to discover the true identity of the woman sleeping beside him every night.
Fred needed a lead, a concrete starting point. One evening at his desk, while putting away his wallet, he stumbled upon an old scrap of paper folded into quarters—something that had been forgotten in one of the inner pockets for over a year.
It was a flyer printed on cheap paper, the kind that used to get dropped in his mailbox: *“Marabout & Clairvoyant – Solutions for singles, bringing back a lost love, success.”*
Fred stared at the paper, a bitter smile playing on his lips. He remembered the dark period following the scam Caroline had pulled on him. Desperate, he had contacted this mysterious Black woman for a consultation. It was during that secret meeting that he had opened up like never before, pouring out his hurt, his loneliness, and his lingering love for the ex who had just cleaned him out. The marabout had promised him a spell to bring Caroline back. A few weeks later, Caroline had indeed reappeared on his doorstep, claiming she had changed. At the time, his heart of gold and his naivety had led him to believe it was an incredible coincidence—or even a miracle. Now, his engineer’s brain saw it as a major security breach.
“Hey, Fred! Done zoning out at your screen?”
Fred jumped. Sylvain, an engineer colleague from the next department over, had just sat on the edge of his desk. Sylvain was a confirmed bachelor and a fan of dating apps who spent his time complaining about his loneliness.
On a sudden hunch, Fred handed him the crumpled slip of paper.
"Here, take a look at this. I came across it while tidying up. It’s for a spiritual healer. Apparently, she works miracles for singles. You should give it a shot."
Sylvain grabbed the flyer with a mocking laugh.
"Cut the crap, Fred. Do you really believe in that charlatan stuff? Then again, given how desperate I am right now, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll take a look."
Fred nodded, a specific plan in mind. As telecom experts, he and Sylvain spent their days handling databases and network infrastructure. If there was anything suspicious about that phone number or address, Sylvain would spot it in a couple of clicks while trying to book an appointment.
The next afternoon, Sylvain stopped by Fred’s desk again, the flyer in hand, looking deeply annoyed.
"That healer scheme of yours is a bust, Fred. I tried calling the number this morning just for a laugh: the line’s dead—not assigned to anyone—and according to our own network’s routing logs, the number was cancelled exactly a year ago. Same goes for her office address; I checked the property records: the place has been empty and up for rent for ages. Your fortune teller has completely vanished into thin air."
Fred felt an icy shiver run down his spine.
"Vanished?" he repeated, his voice drained of color.
"Yeah, a real ghost. It’s as if she opened that line and that office just long enough for a few consultations, then wiped everything clean the moment she got what she wanted."
Sylvain tossed the paper into the trash and walked away, shrugging. As for Fred, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the wastebasket. A temporary phone line, a pop-up office—set up just long enough to gather the confidences of a broken man, then shut down for good the moment Caroline returned to his life...
The system hadn't suffered a glitch; it had been hacked. Someone had meticulously orchestrated Caroline’s return, and that spiritual healer held the key. Fred realized he had to track down this mysterious clairvoyant if he wanted to discover the true identity of the woman sleeping beside him every night.
Chapiter 5
Gina's shadow
The address printed on the card-stock flyer led to a quiet, cobbled street in the 11th arrondissement. Fred went there in the late afternoon, taking advantage of an extended break from his job at the telecom company. His towering 1.92-meter frame cast a restless shadow against the weathered facades. He needed to see this anomaly for himself—to touch it—and get to the bottom of the mystery.
When he arrived, he found his colleague Sylvain’s assessment to be unerringly accurate: the place was deserted. The shop window, once draped in heavy, deep-purple fabric, was now just a dusty pane displaying a "For Rent" sign yellowed by time. Through the grimy glass, Fred could make out nothing but an empty room, bare floorboards, and a few electrical cables dangling from the ceiling. Everything had been cleared out.
Fred pressed his forehead against the cold glass. As he stared into that emptiness, the barriers of time collapsed, and his mind was violently thrust back a year.
The memory came flooding back with the clarity of a high-definition screen. He saw the room again, steeped in the heady scent of incense and myrrh. Seated behind a low table draped in a velvet cloth, the fortune-teller was waiting for him. She had introduced herself as Gina. She was a Black woman of about fifty with a regal bearing, dressed in colorful *boubous* and adorned with heavy jewelry that jingled with her every movement. Her dark, piercing eyes seemed to read him like an open book.
Fred pictured himself again, slumped in an armchair that was too low for his long legs, nervously adjusting his glasses. He was broken and humiliated, yet his heart of gold refused to harbor hatred. Faced with this stranger, the floodgates had opened. He had confessed his immense love for Caroline—that rebel who had swindled him before vanishing into thin air. He had described her long brown hair, her fiery temperament, and the cruel void that gnawed at him every night.
Gina had listened, nodding gently with an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Then, she had asked for a photo of the woman who was gone. Fred had pulled a crumpled snapshot of Caroline from his wallet, revealing her lovely face and the fine scar cutting across her eyebrow. The spiritualist had then begun a ritual. She had passed the photo over a candle and whispered incantations in an unknown tongue before tossing a handful of powder into the flames, sparking a flash of green light. "The spell is cast, my son," she had said in a deep voice. "The one your heart yearns for will return to you. But beware the masks that destiny wears."
Fred had stood up, paid for the consultation in cash, and stepped out into the street. The moment he left the premises, a wave of doubt had washed over him. His rational engineer’s mind had reasserted itself: how could he have been so naive? How could a neighborhood fortune-teller bend reality to his desires? He felt ashamed of his weakness. And yet, three weeks later, Caroline was knocking at his door...
A sharp blast from a car horn snapped Fred back to the present. He blinked, his forehead still pressed against the shop window of the abandoned premises.
The uncertainty he had felt back then was no longer a source of shame; it was a lead. Gina hadn’t cast a spell. She had gathered data. She had scanned his vulnerabilities, memorized Caroline’s face, and learned her history, all to orchestrate her return with surgical precision.
Determined not to leave empty-handed, Fred turned toward the shop next door—a small cobbler’s that looked as though it had been there for decades. An old man in a leather apron was working behind the counter. Fred pushed the door open, making the bell chime.
"Good morning, sir. Sorry to bother you... I’m looking for information about the person who rented the space right next door last year. A Black woman, in her fifties, who offered psychic readings. A woman named Gina."
The cobbler looked up from his machine, his eyes weary and his brow furrowed.
"A psychic? Next door? You must have the wrong address, my young friend."
"No, I assure you," Fred insisted, pulling the flyer from his pocket. "It was definitely here. She stayed for a few weeks—maybe a month or two."
The old man shook his head confidently.
"I’ve been on this street for thirty years, sir. The place next door belonged to a real estate agent who went bankrupt; then it sat empty for over a year before a pop-up antique dealer took the lease for two months last winter. But a Black woman? A psychic? Absolutely not. No one in the neighborhood ever saw a woman matching your description here. It’s a small street; everyone knows everyone. Word would have gotten around about something like that." Fred thanked the shopkeeper mechanically and stepped back out onto the sidewalk, breathless.
No one had seen her. The *marabout* did not exist for the rest of the world. She had appeared only for him—materializing on that street just long enough to extract his secrets and the photo of Caroline—before vanishing from reality.
The trap was far more vast and terrifying than he had imagined. His partner was not merely an impostor aided by an accomplice. The woman sleeping in his bed—the woman he loved—had mastered the art of illusion to a degree that defied human comprehension.
When he arrived, he found his colleague Sylvain’s assessment to be unerringly accurate: the place was deserted. The shop window, once draped in heavy, deep-purple fabric, was now just a dusty pane displaying a "For Rent" sign yellowed by time. Through the grimy glass, Fred could make out nothing but an empty room, bare floorboards, and a few electrical cables dangling from the ceiling. Everything had been cleared out.
Fred pressed his forehead against the cold glass. As he stared into that emptiness, the barriers of time collapsed, and his mind was violently thrust back a year.
The memory came flooding back with the clarity of a high-definition screen. He saw the room again, steeped in the heady scent of incense and myrrh. Seated behind a low table draped in a velvet cloth, the fortune-teller was waiting for him. She had introduced herself as Gina. She was a Black woman of about fifty with a regal bearing, dressed in colorful *boubous* and adorned with heavy jewelry that jingled with her every movement. Her dark, piercing eyes seemed to read him like an open book.
Fred pictured himself again, slumped in an armchair that was too low for his long legs, nervously adjusting his glasses. He was broken and humiliated, yet his heart of gold refused to harbor hatred. Faced with this stranger, the floodgates had opened. He had confessed his immense love for Caroline—that rebel who had swindled him before vanishing into thin air. He had described her long brown hair, her fiery temperament, and the cruel void that gnawed at him every night.
Gina had listened, nodding gently with an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Then, she had asked for a photo of the woman who was gone. Fred had pulled a crumpled snapshot of Caroline from his wallet, revealing her lovely face and the fine scar cutting across her eyebrow. The spiritualist had then begun a ritual. She had passed the photo over a candle and whispered incantations in an unknown tongue before tossing a handful of powder into the flames, sparking a flash of green light. "The spell is cast, my son," she had said in a deep voice. "The one your heart yearns for will return to you. But beware the masks that destiny wears."
Fred had stood up, paid for the consultation in cash, and stepped out into the street. The moment he left the premises, a wave of doubt had washed over him. His rational engineer’s mind had reasserted itself: how could he have been so naive? How could a neighborhood fortune-teller bend reality to his desires? He felt ashamed of his weakness. And yet, three weeks later, Caroline was knocking at his door...
A sharp blast from a car horn snapped Fred back to the present. He blinked, his forehead still pressed against the shop window of the abandoned premises.
The uncertainty he had felt back then was no longer a source of shame; it was a lead. Gina hadn’t cast a spell. She had gathered data. She had scanned his vulnerabilities, memorized Caroline’s face, and learned her history, all to orchestrate her return with surgical precision.
Determined not to leave empty-handed, Fred turned toward the shop next door—a small cobbler’s that looked as though it had been there for decades. An old man in a leather apron was working behind the counter. Fred pushed the door open, making the bell chime.
"Good morning, sir. Sorry to bother you... I’m looking for information about the person who rented the space right next door last year. A Black woman, in her fifties, who offered psychic readings. A woman named Gina."
The cobbler looked up from his machine, his eyes weary and his brow furrowed.
"A psychic? Next door? You must have the wrong address, my young friend."
"No, I assure you," Fred insisted, pulling the flyer from his pocket. "It was definitely here. She stayed for a few weeks—maybe a month or two."
The old man shook his head confidently.
"I’ve been on this street for thirty years, sir. The place next door belonged to a real estate agent who went bankrupt; then it sat empty for over a year before a pop-up antique dealer took the lease for two months last winter. But a Black woman? A psychic? Absolutely not. No one in the neighborhood ever saw a woman matching your description here. It’s a small street; everyone knows everyone. Word would have gotten around about something like that." Fred thanked the shopkeeper mechanically and stepped back out onto the sidewalk, breathless.
No one had seen her. The *marabout* did not exist for the rest of the world. She had appeared only for him—materializing on that street just long enough to extract his secrets and the photo of Caroline—before vanishing from reality.
The trap was far more vast and terrifying than he had imagined. His partner was not merely an impostor aided by an accomplice. The woman sleeping in his bed—the woman he loved—had mastered the art of illusion to a degree that defied human comprehension.
Chapiter 6
The wrongdoers of the past
Fred’s investigation had hit a dead end, both digital and physical. The phantom spiritual healer, the sociopathic twin sister... every answer he uncovered only raised darker questions. Seeking a semblance of normalcy, Fred immersed himself in his daily routine at the telecom company. Yet, paradoxically, it was there—in one of the company’s corridors—that fate chose to hand him the next piece of the puzzle.
Fred was walking toward the coffee machine, his long legs adjusting to the hurried pace of the other engineers, when he spotted a familiar figure chatting near the elevators. A dark-haired woman of North African descent, with an elegant bearing. Samia.
She had been his colleague in the systems engineering department for years. At one point, Fred had been deeply drawn to her, charmed by her intelligence and gentle nature. He suddenly recalled, with startling clarity, that one crisis-filled evening at the office a year earlier. To his surprise, Samia had been incredibly forward, making a very direct play for him. Although deeply tempted by the woman he secretly admired, Fred had found the strength to turn down her unexpected advances. Samia was married, and Fred—true to his unwavering principles regarding fidelity and respect for relationships—had chosen to nip the situation in the bud. The following week, she abruptly resigned. Fred had long felt guilty, convinced that the awkwardness of that failed encounter had driven her away.
Now, here she was—a "Visitor" badge hanging around her neck—there for a consulting assignment.
"Samia?" Fred called out, his glasses slipping slightly in his surprise.
The young woman turned around. As she met Fred’s gaze, her expression crumbled. A look of intense discomfort—bordering on fear—flashed in her eyes. She took a step back, clutching her files to her chest.
"Fred... Hello," she murmured, her voice drained of color.
"I... I didn't expect to see you here again," Fred stammered, driven by a need for the truth. "How have you been since you quit? You know, I’ve really beaten myself up over that night. I was afraid my refusal might have hurt or embarrassed you enough to make you leave the company..."
Samia stared at him, her brows furrowed; her initial guardedness gradually gave way to utter bewilderment.
"Your refusal? Getting hurt? What are you talking about, Fred? You were always the consummate professional with me. We never spent an evening together outside of team meetings. I never tried to hit on you."
Fred felt his brain short-circuit.
"But... what about the advances you made to me in the empty open-plan office? You were insistent, and I reminded you that you were married..."
"Fred, stop," she cut in, glancing nervously around her. "I never did that. I respect my husband, and I would never have acted that way. If I quit in a panic, it was for a completely different reason."
"Then why?" asked Fred, hanging on her every word.
Samia took a deep breath, lowering her voice so the other employees passing in the hallway wouldn't hear.
"I quit because I was threatened, Fred. One night, as I was leaving work, a woman was waiting for me in the parking lot. A Black woman in her fifties, dressed very strangely, wearing jewelry that made a hell of a racket."
Fred held his breath. *Gina. The spiritual healer.*
"She approached me," Samia continued, a shiver running across her shoulders. "She knew my name, my address. She told me in an icy tone that if I didn't leave the company immediately—and if I stayed in your orbit—she would destroy my life and my family. She gave a physical description that terrified me. I was so afraid for my relationship that I handed in my resignation the very next morning."
Samia glanced at her watch, clearly eager to end the conversation.
"I have to go; my meeting is starting. Take care of yourself, Fred."
She hurried off toward the conference rooms, leaving Fred standing in the middle of the hallway, completely petrified and deeply intrigued.
On his way home that evening, Fred felt a compelling need to talk to Caroline about it. The discrepancy between Samia’s memories and his own gnawed at his mind. After kissing Adam and sitting down to dinner, he gathered his courage and told her the whole story involving Samia, her bizarre resignation, and the mysterious *marabout* in the parking lot.
Caroline listened intently, an unreadable glint flashing briefly in her eyes. As soon as he finished, she crossed her arms and pretended to sulk, feigning a playful jealousy.
“So... do you think about that pretty colleague of yours often? Did you actually have your eye on her back in the open-plan office?”
Fred grew flustered, adjusting his glasses with his usual clumsiness.
“No, of course not—I swear, I...”
Seeing his panic, Caroline finally burst into a clear, musical laugh and relaxed her posture. She stepped closer, placed her soft hands on his shoulders, and looked at him with an unsettling intensity.
“I’m just teasing, big guy. I trust you completely, Fred. And I love you madly. You’ve proven your character.”
She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his blond hair, before adding in a more playful tone:
“Actually, if I were going to be even the slightest bit jealous of anyone, it would be of the time you spend on your Angelina Jolie fan site. You’re so dedicated as the webmaster that sometimes I feel like she’s stealing my evenings away from me.”
Fred smiled, touched by their easy rapport. But the mention of the actress stirred up another buried memory—an anomaly he had never dared to voice aloud.— You know... regarding her, something absolutely crazy happened to me over a year ago, before you came back. I had an incredibly unsettling and realistic dream one night. Angelina Jolie appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night. We made love. It was so physical, so vivid... When I woke up, it felt absolutely real. Nothing like a normal dream.
Caroline froze for an imperceptible fraction of a second. Her smile grew strained, and she immediately tried to change the subject, brushing a lock of her long brown hair aside.
— Geek dreams are just dreams, darling. By the way, did you remember to call the pediatrician for Adam?
Fred noticed her eagerness to steer the conversation away from the actress. To test her feelings and soothe what he took to be insecurity, he put his arm around her waist.
— If that site and that passion make you jealous, I’m ready to give it all up for you, Caroline. I can shut down the website this very evening if it would put your mind at ease.
Caroline’s expression softened instantly. Touched by the purity of his intent, she gave him a look filled with infinite gratitude.
— Thank you, Fred... That’s a wonderful gesture of love, she whispered.
She leaned in and kissed him lovingly, putting an end to the conversation. Fred returned the kiss, but behind his glasses, his eyes remained wide open. The spiritual healer, the fake Samia, the Angelina Jolie dream... The system hacking his life extended far beyond his own fantasies, and the truth was now burning beneath his feet.
Fred was walking toward the coffee machine, his long legs adjusting to the hurried pace of the other engineers, when he spotted a familiar figure chatting near the elevators. A dark-haired woman of North African descent, with an elegant bearing. Samia.
She had been his colleague in the systems engineering department for years. At one point, Fred had been deeply drawn to her, charmed by her intelligence and gentle nature. He suddenly recalled, with startling clarity, that one crisis-filled evening at the office a year earlier. To his surprise, Samia had been incredibly forward, making a very direct play for him. Although deeply tempted by the woman he secretly admired, Fred had found the strength to turn down her unexpected advances. Samia was married, and Fred—true to his unwavering principles regarding fidelity and respect for relationships—had chosen to nip the situation in the bud. The following week, she abruptly resigned. Fred had long felt guilty, convinced that the awkwardness of that failed encounter had driven her away.
Now, here she was—a "Visitor" badge hanging around her neck—there for a consulting assignment.
"Samia?" Fred called out, his glasses slipping slightly in his surprise.
The young woman turned around. As she met Fred’s gaze, her expression crumbled. A look of intense discomfort—bordering on fear—flashed in her eyes. She took a step back, clutching her files to her chest.
"Fred... Hello," she murmured, her voice drained of color.
"I... I didn't expect to see you here again," Fred stammered, driven by a need for the truth. "How have you been since you quit? You know, I’ve really beaten myself up over that night. I was afraid my refusal might have hurt or embarrassed you enough to make you leave the company..."
Samia stared at him, her brows furrowed; her initial guardedness gradually gave way to utter bewilderment.
"Your refusal? Getting hurt? What are you talking about, Fred? You were always the consummate professional with me. We never spent an evening together outside of team meetings. I never tried to hit on you."
Fred felt his brain short-circuit.
"But... what about the advances you made to me in the empty open-plan office? You were insistent, and I reminded you that you were married..."
"Fred, stop," she cut in, glancing nervously around her. "I never did that. I respect my husband, and I would never have acted that way. If I quit in a panic, it was for a completely different reason."
"Then why?" asked Fred, hanging on her every word.
Samia took a deep breath, lowering her voice so the other employees passing in the hallway wouldn't hear.
"I quit because I was threatened, Fred. One night, as I was leaving work, a woman was waiting for me in the parking lot. A Black woman in her fifties, dressed very strangely, wearing jewelry that made a hell of a racket."
Fred held his breath. *Gina. The spiritual healer.*
"She approached me," Samia continued, a shiver running across her shoulders. "She knew my name, my address. She told me in an icy tone that if I didn't leave the company immediately—and if I stayed in your orbit—she would destroy my life and my family. She gave a physical description that terrified me. I was so afraid for my relationship that I handed in my resignation the very next morning."
Samia glanced at her watch, clearly eager to end the conversation.
"I have to go; my meeting is starting. Take care of yourself, Fred."
She hurried off toward the conference rooms, leaving Fred standing in the middle of the hallway, completely petrified and deeply intrigued.
On his way home that evening, Fred felt a compelling need to talk to Caroline about it. The discrepancy between Samia’s memories and his own gnawed at his mind. After kissing Adam and sitting down to dinner, he gathered his courage and told her the whole story involving Samia, her bizarre resignation, and the mysterious *marabout* in the parking lot.
Caroline listened intently, an unreadable glint flashing briefly in her eyes. As soon as he finished, she crossed her arms and pretended to sulk, feigning a playful jealousy.
“So... do you think about that pretty colleague of yours often? Did you actually have your eye on her back in the open-plan office?”
Fred grew flustered, adjusting his glasses with his usual clumsiness.
“No, of course not—I swear, I...”
Seeing his panic, Caroline finally burst into a clear, musical laugh and relaxed her posture. She stepped closer, placed her soft hands on his shoulders, and looked at him with an unsettling intensity.
“I’m just teasing, big guy. I trust you completely, Fred. And I love you madly. You’ve proven your character.”
She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his blond hair, before adding in a more playful tone:
“Actually, if I were going to be even the slightest bit jealous of anyone, it would be of the time you spend on your Angelina Jolie fan site. You’re so dedicated as the webmaster that sometimes I feel like she’s stealing my evenings away from me.”
Fred smiled, touched by their easy rapport. But the mention of the actress stirred up another buried memory—an anomaly he had never dared to voice aloud.— You know... regarding her, something absolutely crazy happened to me over a year ago, before you came back. I had an incredibly unsettling and realistic dream one night. Angelina Jolie appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night. We made love. It was so physical, so vivid... When I woke up, it felt absolutely real. Nothing like a normal dream.
Caroline froze for an imperceptible fraction of a second. Her smile grew strained, and she immediately tried to change the subject, brushing a lock of her long brown hair aside.
— Geek dreams are just dreams, darling. By the way, did you remember to call the pediatrician for Adam?
Fred noticed her eagerness to steer the conversation away from the actress. To test her feelings and soothe what he took to be insecurity, he put his arm around her waist.
— If that site and that passion make you jealous, I’m ready to give it all up for you, Caroline. I can shut down the website this very evening if it would put your mind at ease.
Caroline’s expression softened instantly. Touched by the purity of his intent, she gave him a look filled with infinite gratitude.
— Thank you, Fred... That’s a wonderful gesture of love, she whispered.
She leaned in and kissed him lovingly, putting an end to the conversation. Fred returned the kiss, but behind his glasses, his eyes remained wide open. The spiritual healer, the fake Samia, the Angelina Jolie dream... The system hacking his life extended far beyond his own fantasies, and the truth was now burning beneath his feet.
Chapiter 7
The breath of the future
The following days brought a welcome respite for Fred’s overtaxed mind. Swamped by technical emergencies at his job at the telecom company and soothed by the comforting routine of home life, he slowly began to put the recent events out of his mind and worry less about them. The theory of the sociopathic twin sister—terrifying though it was—did, after all, explain the oddities in the subway, and his wife’s tenderness acted as a balm for his lingering paranoia.
The weekend finally arrived, bathed in soft light. Taking advantage of the sunny afternoon, Fred and Caroline decided to treat themselves to an outing in a local park. His tall, 1.92-meter frame proudly pushed the stroller, while Caroline—radiant and slender at 1.65 meters—walked beside him, a broad smile on her face.
As they settled onto a bench in the shade of a large horse chestnut tree, watching the passersby, Caroline turned to him. Her long brown hair caught the sunlight, softening the fine scar above her eyebrow.
"Fred..." she began gently, placing her hand on his. "I’ve been thinking lately. I really want us to have a second child."
Fred adjusted his glasses, taken aback by this sudden declaration. A twinge of worry flickered through him.
"A second one? Already? You know I love you with all my heart, but I’m a bit worried about the workload it would mean for you, darling. Looking after two young children is an exhausting full-time job."
Caroline let out a soft laugh and shook her head with quiet confidence.
"Don't worry about that. Look at Adam." He’s such a calm baby—he never cries, never gets sick, and is so easy to look after. I feel completely capable of handling a second one under these circumstances.
Fred glanced down at the stroller where the little boy was sleeping peacefully, possessing that perfection that continued to amaze the doctors. Fred’s natural altruism and his deep desire to cement their happiness won out.
“It’s true, he is perfect... To be honest, if we do it again, I’d really love to have a little girl. And I think this might be the right time. My job at Telecom is stable, and our finances are solid—even if you stay a stay-at-home mom. We can easily afford it.”
Caroline’s eyes shone with happiness as she nodded immediately.
“I totally agree with you, Fred. It’s completely doable; our little nest is ready for it. And as for the little girl... it’ll be a girl. I promise.”
Fred looked at her, amused by her emphatic tone. He couldn't help but smile at her confidence.
“Oh, so you think you can choose the baby’s gender yourself? Nature doesn't quite work that way, you know!”
Caroline didn't flinch. She offered a mysterious smile and held his gaze with a hint of mischief.
"I’ve read quite a few magazine articles lately. They explain that certain factors—positions, specific diets, or very particular conditions at the time of conception—can strongly influence the sex of the future child. It’s all very scientific; you really ought to trust me."
Fred nodded, though behind his glasses, he remained briefly intrigued by Caroline’s determined manner. There was an absolute, almost compelling certainty in her voice that went beyond mere women's magazine tips. Yet he quickly brushed the thought aside, preferring to savor the shared intimacy of the moment.
Once they returned from their walk in the park, a quiet calm settled over the apartment for the rest of the evening. Exhausted from the day, little Adam soon fell asleep in his crib, allowing silence to reign once more throughout the home.
Fred and Caroline found themselves in the dim light of their bedroom for a long, intimate interlude. But the atmosphere that night was different from usual. Fred noticed immediately that Caroline was incredibly focused, driven by a fierce determination evident in every glance she cast his way. As they drew closer, they made love with rare intensity—wild, deeply connected, and utterly impassioned. Fred allowed himself to be completely swept away by the passion of the woman he loved above all else, savoring the unique moment, never suspecting that this act of intimacy had just sealed the future of their story forever.
The weekend finally arrived, bathed in soft light. Taking advantage of the sunny afternoon, Fred and Caroline decided to treat themselves to an outing in a local park. His tall, 1.92-meter frame proudly pushed the stroller, while Caroline—radiant and slender at 1.65 meters—walked beside him, a broad smile on her face.
As they settled onto a bench in the shade of a large horse chestnut tree, watching the passersby, Caroline turned to him. Her long brown hair caught the sunlight, softening the fine scar above her eyebrow.
"Fred..." she began gently, placing her hand on his. "I’ve been thinking lately. I really want us to have a second child."
Fred adjusted his glasses, taken aback by this sudden declaration. A twinge of worry flickered through him.
"A second one? Already? You know I love you with all my heart, but I’m a bit worried about the workload it would mean for you, darling. Looking after two young children is an exhausting full-time job."
Caroline let out a soft laugh and shook her head with quiet confidence.
"Don't worry about that. Look at Adam." He’s such a calm baby—he never cries, never gets sick, and is so easy to look after. I feel completely capable of handling a second one under these circumstances.
Fred glanced down at the stroller where the little boy was sleeping peacefully, possessing that perfection that continued to amaze the doctors. Fred’s natural altruism and his deep desire to cement their happiness won out.
“It’s true, he is perfect... To be honest, if we do it again, I’d really love to have a little girl. And I think this might be the right time. My job at Telecom is stable, and our finances are solid—even if you stay a stay-at-home mom. We can easily afford it.”
Caroline’s eyes shone with happiness as she nodded immediately.
“I totally agree with you, Fred. It’s completely doable; our little nest is ready for it. And as for the little girl... it’ll be a girl. I promise.”
Fred looked at her, amused by her emphatic tone. He couldn't help but smile at her confidence.
“Oh, so you think you can choose the baby’s gender yourself? Nature doesn't quite work that way, you know!”
Caroline didn't flinch. She offered a mysterious smile and held his gaze with a hint of mischief.
"I’ve read quite a few magazine articles lately. They explain that certain factors—positions, specific diets, or very particular conditions at the time of conception—can strongly influence the sex of the future child. It’s all very scientific; you really ought to trust me."
Fred nodded, though behind his glasses, he remained briefly intrigued by Caroline’s determined manner. There was an absolute, almost compelling certainty in her voice that went beyond mere women's magazine tips. Yet he quickly brushed the thought aside, preferring to savor the shared intimacy of the moment.
Once they returned from their walk in the park, a quiet calm settled over the apartment for the rest of the evening. Exhausted from the day, little Adam soon fell asleep in his crib, allowing silence to reign once more throughout the home.
Fred and Caroline found themselves in the dim light of their bedroom for a long, intimate interlude. But the atmosphere that night was different from usual. Fred noticed immediately that Caroline was incredibly focused, driven by a fierce determination evident in every glance she cast his way. As they drew closer, they made love with rare intensity—wild, deeply connected, and utterly impassioned. Fred allowed himself to be completely swept away by the passion of the woman he loved above all else, savoring the unique moment, never suspecting that this act of intimacy had just sealed the future of their story forever.
Chapiter 8
The eldest daughter's visit
A few days later, routine had settled back into the apartment. Fred was taking advantage of a work-from-home day to handle a series of complex network maintenance tasks. From his makeshift office in the living room, he could hear the soft sounds coming from the kitchen, where Caroline was busy feeding little Adam.
Suddenly, the shrill ringing of his work phone shattered the silence. Fred answered automatically. On the other end, an elderly woman’s voice—calm, almost mechanical—spoke up.
"Hello. I’d like to speak to Caroline, please. I’m Monique, her mother."
Fred adjusted his glasses, his heart leaping with surprise. Throughout their years together, Caroline had rarely mentioned her family, and he had never had any contact with them.
"Oh, hello... I’m Fred, Caroline’s partner. She’s a bit busy with the baby right now—please excuse her... But I’m absolutely delighted to finally speak with you! If you’re free and in the area, we’d be thrilled if you came over for dinner this very evening."
After a brief hesitation, Monique’s laconic voice accepted the invitation.
After hanging up, Fred headed toward the kitchen with a broad smile, eager to share the good news.
"Caroline! You’ll never guess who I just spoke to on the phone... It was Monique, your mother. She was in the neighborhood, so I invited her to dinner tonight."
The effect of the announcement was immediate. Caroline froze, the baby bottle hovering over Adam’s crib. Her face fell, revealing deep agitation—even obvious discomfort.
"My... my mother?" she whispered, nervously brushing a lock of her long brown hair aside. Fred hadn't seen her in years. It was... it was so sudden. She had never even met Adam.
Fred stepped toward her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his natural altruism coming to the fore.
"Don't worry, it’ll go just fine. It’s the perfect chance to reconnect and introduce her to her grandson."
Despite his encouraging words, the rest of the day felt heavy. Caroline seemed constantly troubled and distant, going about her household chores with unusual stiffness.
At the appointed time, the doorbell rang. Fred went to answer it. Standing on the landing was a woman of about sixty-five. Monique had long gray hair framing a face with barely a wrinkle; she was undeniably beautiful for her age. Fred remembered seeing her vaguely in old photographs, but the reality surpassed the snapshots. Yet, the moment she stepped through the doorway, her demeanor proved icily cold.
Caroline stepped forward hesitantly, looking completely intimidated.
— Hello, Mom...
Monique replied with a single, simple "Hello," devoid of any emotion. Her dark eyes then swept over Caroline, staring at her from head to toe with an almost clinical intensity. Under that visual scan, Caroline seemed to shrink into herself, deeply unsettled.
Trying to break the heavy atmosphere, Fred struck up a conversation, playing the perfect host. His towering six-foot-four frame contrasted with the stiffness of the two women. He exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather and asked if Monique had been in the area long. Her answers were brief and polite, yet devoid of any warmth. As he watched her, a light bulb went on in Fred’s engineer’s mind: that total lack of empathy, that mechanical rigidity... it was exactly the attitude Caroline had displayed when she’d come back into his life a year earlier, before she "re-humanized" by his side.
— I’ll go get Adam and introduce him to you, Fred suggested, eager to bring a little joy into the room.
Monique gave a simple nod, showing no trace of emotion.
Fred slipped away to the baby’s room. Adam was awake in his crib. To Fred’s surprise, the infant showed no signs of drowsiness; on the contrary, his dark little eyes were wide open and fixed, as if he were fully aware of his grandmother’s presence in the other room. He was already reaching his little arms toward the door—an alert behavior that struck Fred as almost too advanced for his age.
When he returned to the living room with the baby in his arms, Fred noticed that the ice between the two women seemed to have strangely melted. They were now speaking together in low voices, their tone less awkward, displaying a sudden mutual confidence.
"This is Adam," Fred said softly, stepping closer.
Monique stepped forward and took the infant in her arms. Fred expected the usual grandmotherly gushing, but none came. She showed no affection, none of the doting behavior typical of grandmothers. Monique simply handled the baby, examining him from head to toe as if he were a mere commodity to be appraised.
"He is perfect," she stated in a neutral voice.
The word rang painfully in Fred’s head, echoing the pediatrician’s remarks. Perfect.
Monique then began questioning Fred about the little one: his health, his developmental milestones, and whether he was saying any words yet. Meanwhile, Caroline kept her eyes fixed on her mother, her gaze shifting between absolute respect and a hint of evident fear.
Then they sat down for dinner. Throughout the meal, Monique led the interrogation, inquiring about Adam’s lifestyle, his future education, and his capabilities. What deeply surprised Fred was that Monique showed no interest in Caroline whatsoever. Not a single question about her life, her past, or her years of absence. Nothing. Several times, Fred tried to steer the conversation toward his partner, pointing out that they hadn't seen each other in ages, but Monique brushed his attempts aside with a wave of her hand.
Finally, between courses, the old lady asked a direct question:
"And you, Caroline... Do you enjoy this life? Are you happy?"
Caroline glanced quickly at Fred, took a breath, and announced—to her partner's utter astonishment:
"Yes. And... I’m pregnant again, Mom."
Fred stared at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses. She hadn't told him yet. The intensity of their weekend together had already borne fruit—or at least, she was certain of it.
Monique seemed surprised by the news. For the first time that evening, her lips curved into a thin smile, but her words cast a freezing chill over the room:
"I thought we had agreed there would be only one child."
Caroline retorted immediately, her voice urgent, almost defensive:
"I wanted to make Fred happy. It meant a great deal to him."
Monique slowly turned her head toward her daughter, completely ignoring Fred, who—feeling awkward—had started playing with Adam beside them.
"So... you love this man?" the old lady asked.
"Yes," Caroline replied without a shred of hesitation. "I love him deeply."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Monique set down her cutlery, resumed her inscrutable expression, and declared that she wished to speak with her daughter in private. Sensing he had no place in this family council, Fred stood up, picked up Adam, and went to gently put him back to bed.
When he returned to the living room a few minutes later, the conversation was already over. Monique had put her jacket back on and was ready to leave. Without any display of emotion, she politely thanked Fred for the meal, commending him for having "taken such good care of Caroline and Adam." Near the table, Caroline looked utterly devastated, her face pale, as if she had just received a terrible sentence.
The Uber Monique had ordered was waiting for her downstairs. After a stiff, formal farewell, the older woman vanished into the night.
Left alone with his partner, Fred cleared the plates mechanically before turning to her.
"Caroline... What’s wrong? Why do you look like that? What did she say to you?"
She refused to meet his gaze, clenching her fists.
"Nothing, Fred. It’s just... the shock of seeing my mother again after all this time. I’m sorry, I’m tired. I want to go to bed."
"All right, go get some rest," he replied with his usual kindness. "I’ll take care of the cleaning up, tidying, and the dishes."
Caroline walked heavily up the stairs to their bedroom. A few moments later, as he was wiping down the table, Fred thought he heard her stifle a sob upstairs. He paused, sponge in hand.
The whole situation was riddled with inconsistencies. Caroline was keeping something huge, something heavy, from him. As he washed the dishes, he brooded over the matter, replaying every word Monique had said—especially that strange phrase: "We had agreed there would be only one child." Who was this "we"? And why did the conception of his own son seem to have been the subject of a prior agreement between his wife and that terrifying mother of hers?
When he finally joined her in bed late that night, Fred slipped silently under the covers. Caroline was turned away from the door, breathing steadily, deep in sleep. Fred stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, his arms crossed behind his head, knowing full well that the mystery surrounding his life had just reached a point of no return.
Suddenly, the shrill ringing of his work phone shattered the silence. Fred answered automatically. On the other end, an elderly woman’s voice—calm, almost mechanical—spoke up.
"Hello. I’d like to speak to Caroline, please. I’m Monique, her mother."
Fred adjusted his glasses, his heart leaping with surprise. Throughout their years together, Caroline had rarely mentioned her family, and he had never had any contact with them.
"Oh, hello... I’m Fred, Caroline’s partner. She’s a bit busy with the baby right now—please excuse her... But I’m absolutely delighted to finally speak with you! If you’re free and in the area, we’d be thrilled if you came over for dinner this very evening."
After a brief hesitation, Monique’s laconic voice accepted the invitation.
After hanging up, Fred headed toward the kitchen with a broad smile, eager to share the good news.
"Caroline! You’ll never guess who I just spoke to on the phone... It was Monique, your mother. She was in the neighborhood, so I invited her to dinner tonight."
The effect of the announcement was immediate. Caroline froze, the baby bottle hovering over Adam’s crib. Her face fell, revealing deep agitation—even obvious discomfort.
"My... my mother?" she whispered, nervously brushing a lock of her long brown hair aside. Fred hadn't seen her in years. It was... it was so sudden. She had never even met Adam.
Fred stepped toward her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his natural altruism coming to the fore.
"Don't worry, it’ll go just fine. It’s the perfect chance to reconnect and introduce her to her grandson."
Despite his encouraging words, the rest of the day felt heavy. Caroline seemed constantly troubled and distant, going about her household chores with unusual stiffness.
At the appointed time, the doorbell rang. Fred went to answer it. Standing on the landing was a woman of about sixty-five. Monique had long gray hair framing a face with barely a wrinkle; she was undeniably beautiful for her age. Fred remembered seeing her vaguely in old photographs, but the reality surpassed the snapshots. Yet, the moment she stepped through the doorway, her demeanor proved icily cold.
Caroline stepped forward hesitantly, looking completely intimidated.
— Hello, Mom...
Monique replied with a single, simple "Hello," devoid of any emotion. Her dark eyes then swept over Caroline, staring at her from head to toe with an almost clinical intensity. Under that visual scan, Caroline seemed to shrink into herself, deeply unsettled.
Trying to break the heavy atmosphere, Fred struck up a conversation, playing the perfect host. His towering six-foot-four frame contrasted with the stiffness of the two women. He exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather and asked if Monique had been in the area long. Her answers were brief and polite, yet devoid of any warmth. As he watched her, a light bulb went on in Fred’s engineer’s mind: that total lack of empathy, that mechanical rigidity... it was exactly the attitude Caroline had displayed when she’d come back into his life a year earlier, before she "re-humanized" by his side.
— I’ll go get Adam and introduce him to you, Fred suggested, eager to bring a little joy into the room.
Monique gave a simple nod, showing no trace of emotion.
Fred slipped away to the baby’s room. Adam was awake in his crib. To Fred’s surprise, the infant showed no signs of drowsiness; on the contrary, his dark little eyes were wide open and fixed, as if he were fully aware of his grandmother’s presence in the other room. He was already reaching his little arms toward the door—an alert behavior that struck Fred as almost too advanced for his age.
When he returned to the living room with the baby in his arms, Fred noticed that the ice between the two women seemed to have strangely melted. They were now speaking together in low voices, their tone less awkward, displaying a sudden mutual confidence.
"This is Adam," Fred said softly, stepping closer.
Monique stepped forward and took the infant in her arms. Fred expected the usual grandmotherly gushing, but none came. She showed no affection, none of the doting behavior typical of grandmothers. Monique simply handled the baby, examining him from head to toe as if he were a mere commodity to be appraised.
"He is perfect," she stated in a neutral voice.
The word rang painfully in Fred’s head, echoing the pediatrician’s remarks. Perfect.
Monique then began questioning Fred about the little one: his health, his developmental milestones, and whether he was saying any words yet. Meanwhile, Caroline kept her eyes fixed on her mother, her gaze shifting between absolute respect and a hint of evident fear.
Then they sat down for dinner. Throughout the meal, Monique led the interrogation, inquiring about Adam’s lifestyle, his future education, and his capabilities. What deeply surprised Fred was that Monique showed no interest in Caroline whatsoever. Not a single question about her life, her past, or her years of absence. Nothing. Several times, Fred tried to steer the conversation toward his partner, pointing out that they hadn't seen each other in ages, but Monique brushed his attempts aside with a wave of her hand.
Finally, between courses, the old lady asked a direct question:
"And you, Caroline... Do you enjoy this life? Are you happy?"
Caroline glanced quickly at Fred, took a breath, and announced—to her partner's utter astonishment:
"Yes. And... I’m pregnant again, Mom."
Fred stared at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses. She hadn't told him yet. The intensity of their weekend together had already borne fruit—or at least, she was certain of it.
Monique seemed surprised by the news. For the first time that evening, her lips curved into a thin smile, but her words cast a freezing chill over the room:
"I thought we had agreed there would be only one child."
Caroline retorted immediately, her voice urgent, almost defensive:
"I wanted to make Fred happy. It meant a great deal to him."
Monique slowly turned her head toward her daughter, completely ignoring Fred, who—feeling awkward—had started playing with Adam beside them.
"So... you love this man?" the old lady asked.
"Yes," Caroline replied without a shred of hesitation. "I love him deeply."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Monique set down her cutlery, resumed her inscrutable expression, and declared that she wished to speak with her daughter in private. Sensing he had no place in this family council, Fred stood up, picked up Adam, and went to gently put him back to bed.
When he returned to the living room a few minutes later, the conversation was already over. Monique had put her jacket back on and was ready to leave. Without any display of emotion, she politely thanked Fred for the meal, commending him for having "taken such good care of Caroline and Adam." Near the table, Caroline looked utterly devastated, her face pale, as if she had just received a terrible sentence.
The Uber Monique had ordered was waiting for her downstairs. After a stiff, formal farewell, the older woman vanished into the night.
Left alone with his partner, Fred cleared the plates mechanically before turning to her.
"Caroline... What’s wrong? Why do you look like that? What did she say to you?"
She refused to meet his gaze, clenching her fists.
"Nothing, Fred. It’s just... the shock of seeing my mother again after all this time. I’m sorry, I’m tired. I want to go to bed."
"All right, go get some rest," he replied with his usual kindness. "I’ll take care of the cleaning up, tidying, and the dishes."
Caroline walked heavily up the stairs to their bedroom. A few moments later, as he was wiping down the table, Fred thought he heard her stifle a sob upstairs. He paused, sponge in hand.
The whole situation was riddled with inconsistencies. Caroline was keeping something huge, something heavy, from him. As he washed the dishes, he brooded over the matter, replaying every word Monique had said—especially that strange phrase: "We had agreed there would be only one child." Who was this "we"? And why did the conception of his own son seem to have been the subject of a prior agreement between his wife and that terrifying mother of hers?
When he finally joined her in bed late that night, Fred slipped silently under the covers. Caroline was turned away from the door, breathing steadily, deep in sleep. Fred stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, his arms crossed behind his head, knowing full well that the mystery surrounding his life had just reached a point of no return.
Chapiter 9
The imprint of the void
Fred woke with a start, his body numb from a night of doubt. The first thing that struck him was the quality of the silence in the apartment: a heavy, thick, almost artificial silence. He reached out to his left. The spot was cold.
Fred sat on the edge of the bed and adjusted his glasses with a sharp movement. Despite the tension of the previous day, a massive wave of happiness suddenly washed over him: Caroline was pregnant. They were going to have that second child, the little girl he had dreamed of. He was overjoyed. But that excitement instantly collided with the memory of the previous evening. He needed to talk to Caroline. He wanted to understand Monique’s icy behavior and, above all, what the old lady had said to her in private—something that had upset and shaken her so deeply before she left.
He got up, his tall, 1.92-meter frame moving briskly down the hallway. He pushed open the door to the baby’s room.
The crib was empty. No Adam.
Fred smiled nervously, imagining that his partner had gotten up early to give the baby his bottle. He bounded down the stairs and entered the kitchen. No one. The cups from the night before were lined up on the drying rack; the coffee pot was cold.
"Caroline?" he called out, his voice echoing strangely through the empty rooms.
A chilling premonition twisted his gut. He checked the entryway. Caroline’s things were right there, hanging on the coat rack. A closer look revealed that only her warm coat, her mobile phone, the pram, and a few spare items for Adam were missing.
They were gone.
With his heart pounding wildly, Fred grabbed his own phone and dialed Caroline’s number. It didn't even ring; it went straight to voicemail. “Caroline, it’s me... Please call me back as soon as you get this message. I don’t understand where you are. Tell me everything is all right.”
Unable to stay still, Fred threw on a jacket and stepped out onto the landing. He went and knocked on the door next door. It belonged to Madame Colin, an elderly neighbor who was very fond of Caroline and often spent long periods chatting with her in the courtyard.
The door opened a crack to reveal the old lady in hair curlers.
“Oh, hello, Monsieur Fred. What brings you here so early?”
“Hello, Madame Colin... Sorry to bother you, but have you happened to see Caroline this morning?”
"Well, actually," the neighbor replied, frowning, "I couldn't sleep. I saw her loading the pram and little Adam into her car. She left very early—it was barely light out. She seemed in quite a rush, poor thing."
Fred thanked her mechanically, the ground falling away beneath his feet. He went back inside, panic seizing every cell in his body. He tried calling again, hit voicemail once more, and left a second message—his voice trembling—before sending a brief text: "Caroline, please answer me. Where are you with our son?"
Sitting down in the living room, Fred realized with cruel clarity that Caroline had very few acquaintances in Paris. She had no close friends, no logical place to go. That was when his technician’s mind kicked in: Monique. He grabbed his phone, searched the previous day’s incoming call history, and dialed the mother’s number.
An impersonal, synthesized voice answered immediately: "The number you have reached is no longer in service."
Exactly a year after the *marabout* incident, the same digital protocol was repeating itself: a line opened for a specific mission, then destroyed the very next day.
In a frenzy, Fred contacted the police. The officer on duty listened wearily before dashing his hopes:
"Sir, your partner is an adult. She left of her own free will, taking the family vehicle. You must wait forty-eight hours before filing an official report regarding a disappearance under concerning circumstances."
Fred hung up, furious—rage mingling with his anxiety. Caroline couldn't just vanish like that, without a reason! It was a cruel reminder of the time when he first started seeing her—back when she would vanish for days at a time to pull off her schemes before reappearing. But why now? Why today, when she seemed so happy, so fulfilled in their new family life? It was Monique’s visit that had changed everything. That was where the trouble had started.
Following his gut, Fred decided to bend the rules. He called Uber’s customer service department. By appealing to the coordinator’s sense of compassion and conveying his own distress—his voice cracking with the anxiety of a father whose infant had gone missing—he managed to get through to her. Faced with the urgency of the situation, she agreed to transfer the call directly to the phone of the driver who had picked up Monique the previous evening.
The driver picked up after a few rings.
— Yes, hello?
— Hello, sir... Forgive me, but you picked up an elderly woman with gray hair from my address last night. It’s a dire emergency; my wife and son have disappeared. Do you remember where you dropped her off?
The man on the other end paused.
— Oh, right! The very cold woman. I remember her well because her destination really intrigued me. I dropped her off at the edge of a huge vacant lot, just outside town. There was absolutely nothing around—not a single light. Hang on, let me check my GPS... I’ll give you the exact coordinates.
Fred carefully noted the location, slipped on his shoes, and left the apartment. Forty minutes later, his car came to a stop along a deserted country road. Before him lay a landscape of profound desolation: a flat, grassy, wind-swept wasteland, with not a single house or building on the horizon. It was a geographical void.
With a heavy heart, Fred walked toward the only visible house—an old, isolated structure nearly five hundred meters away. He knocked on the door. An elderly resident opened it. Fred took out his phone, showed him a photo of Caroline, and gave him a precise description of Monique.
— Hello... Did you see either of these women, or a suspicious car, in the area last night or this morning?
The man shook his head, looking apologetic.
— No, sir. It’s dead quiet out here. I didn't see a soul all night.
Fred got back into his car and headed home, utterly distraught. The illusion had closed in around him. As he stepped back through the door of his empty apartment, the silence hit him all over again. He collapsed onto the sofa, grabbed his phone, and dialed his wife’s number one last time, letting his tears flow freely as he spoke to the voicemail:
“Caroline... please... come back. We’re having a girl. I love you...”
Then, in a hollow voice, he called the technical department at Telecom to say he would be away for the next few days. He no longer had the heart to work. Nothing made sense anymore.
Night fell over the house. Fred lay down on their abandoned marital bed, unable to sleep. Curled up in the gloom, his large frame racked with sobs, he wept alone in the dark, staring into the emptiness of the room where happiness had vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but an unbearable mystery.
Fred sat on the edge of the bed and adjusted his glasses with a sharp movement. Despite the tension of the previous day, a massive wave of happiness suddenly washed over him: Caroline was pregnant. They were going to have that second child, the little girl he had dreamed of. He was overjoyed. But that excitement instantly collided with the memory of the previous evening. He needed to talk to Caroline. He wanted to understand Monique’s icy behavior and, above all, what the old lady had said to her in private—something that had upset and shaken her so deeply before she left.
He got up, his tall, 1.92-meter frame moving briskly down the hallway. He pushed open the door to the baby’s room.
The crib was empty. No Adam.
Fred smiled nervously, imagining that his partner had gotten up early to give the baby his bottle. He bounded down the stairs and entered the kitchen. No one. The cups from the night before were lined up on the drying rack; the coffee pot was cold.
"Caroline?" he called out, his voice echoing strangely through the empty rooms.
A chilling premonition twisted his gut. He checked the entryway. Caroline’s things were right there, hanging on the coat rack. A closer look revealed that only her warm coat, her mobile phone, the pram, and a few spare items for Adam were missing.
They were gone.
With his heart pounding wildly, Fred grabbed his own phone and dialed Caroline’s number. It didn't even ring; it went straight to voicemail. “Caroline, it’s me... Please call me back as soon as you get this message. I don’t understand where you are. Tell me everything is all right.”
Unable to stay still, Fred threw on a jacket and stepped out onto the landing. He went and knocked on the door next door. It belonged to Madame Colin, an elderly neighbor who was very fond of Caroline and often spent long periods chatting with her in the courtyard.
The door opened a crack to reveal the old lady in hair curlers.
“Oh, hello, Monsieur Fred. What brings you here so early?”
“Hello, Madame Colin... Sorry to bother you, but have you happened to see Caroline this morning?”
"Well, actually," the neighbor replied, frowning, "I couldn't sleep. I saw her loading the pram and little Adam into her car. She left very early—it was barely light out. She seemed in quite a rush, poor thing."
Fred thanked her mechanically, the ground falling away beneath his feet. He went back inside, panic seizing every cell in his body. He tried calling again, hit voicemail once more, and left a second message—his voice trembling—before sending a brief text: "Caroline, please answer me. Where are you with our son?"
Sitting down in the living room, Fred realized with cruel clarity that Caroline had very few acquaintances in Paris. She had no close friends, no logical place to go. That was when his technician’s mind kicked in: Monique. He grabbed his phone, searched the previous day’s incoming call history, and dialed the mother’s number.
An impersonal, synthesized voice answered immediately: "The number you have reached is no longer in service."
Exactly a year after the *marabout* incident, the same digital protocol was repeating itself: a line opened for a specific mission, then destroyed the very next day.
In a frenzy, Fred contacted the police. The officer on duty listened wearily before dashing his hopes:
"Sir, your partner is an adult. She left of her own free will, taking the family vehicle. You must wait forty-eight hours before filing an official report regarding a disappearance under concerning circumstances."
Fred hung up, furious—rage mingling with his anxiety. Caroline couldn't just vanish like that, without a reason! It was a cruel reminder of the time when he first started seeing her—back when she would vanish for days at a time to pull off her schemes before reappearing. But why now? Why today, when she seemed so happy, so fulfilled in their new family life? It was Monique’s visit that had changed everything. That was where the trouble had started.
Following his gut, Fred decided to bend the rules. He called Uber’s customer service department. By appealing to the coordinator’s sense of compassion and conveying his own distress—his voice cracking with the anxiety of a father whose infant had gone missing—he managed to get through to her. Faced with the urgency of the situation, she agreed to transfer the call directly to the phone of the driver who had picked up Monique the previous evening.
The driver picked up after a few rings.
— Yes, hello?
— Hello, sir... Forgive me, but you picked up an elderly woman with gray hair from my address last night. It’s a dire emergency; my wife and son have disappeared. Do you remember where you dropped her off?
The man on the other end paused.
— Oh, right! The very cold woman. I remember her well because her destination really intrigued me. I dropped her off at the edge of a huge vacant lot, just outside town. There was absolutely nothing around—not a single light. Hang on, let me check my GPS... I’ll give you the exact coordinates.
Fred carefully noted the location, slipped on his shoes, and left the apartment. Forty minutes later, his car came to a stop along a deserted country road. Before him lay a landscape of profound desolation: a flat, grassy, wind-swept wasteland, with not a single house or building on the horizon. It was a geographical void.
With a heavy heart, Fred walked toward the only visible house—an old, isolated structure nearly five hundred meters away. He knocked on the door. An elderly resident opened it. Fred took out his phone, showed him a photo of Caroline, and gave him a precise description of Monique.
— Hello... Did you see either of these women, or a suspicious car, in the area last night or this morning?
The man shook his head, looking apologetic.
— No, sir. It’s dead quiet out here. I didn't see a soul all night.
Fred got back into his car and headed home, utterly distraught. The illusion had closed in around him. As he stepped back through the door of his empty apartment, the silence hit him all over again. He collapsed onto the sofa, grabbed his phone, and dialed his wife’s number one last time, letting his tears flow freely as he spoke to the voicemail:
“Caroline... please... come back. We’re having a girl. I love you...”
Then, in a hollow voice, he called the technical department at Telecom to say he would be away for the next few days. He no longer had the heart to work. Nothing made sense anymore.
Night fell over the house. Fred lay down on their abandoned marital bed, unable to sleep. Curled up in the gloom, his large frame racked with sobs, he wept alone in the dark, staring into the emptiness of the room where happiness had vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but an unbearable mystery.
Chapiter 10
The broken mirror
The next day, Fred’s engineer’s mind refused to give in to a dead end. With eyes reddened from lack of sleep behind his glasses, he logged onto his computer. Since the telecom companies had yielded nothing, he would track Monique down via the public web. He scoured reverse directories, accessible civil registries, and social media. After hours of cross-referencing, a name and address finally matched in the Paris suburbs, about thirty kilometers away. There was no phone number attached. Fred wasn’t 100% sure it was her, but inaction was killing him. He closed his laptop, grabbed his keys, and decided to take a chance.
After an hour’s drive, his car pulled up in front of a secluded house—a slightly run-down detached home at the end of a cul-de-sac. With his heart pounding wildly, Fred walked up the driveway and knocked firmly on the door.
When it opened, Fred held his breath. The woman standing before him bore a striking resemblance to the Monique of the day before. Physically, she had the same facial structure and the same long gray hair. Yet, something was off. She was less polished, less put-together, dressed in an old, shapeless cardigan; however, her expression seemed much more cheerful—more human.
Monique studied him curiously, showing not the slightest sign of recognition.
"Hello... What can I do for you?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred.
Fred adjusted his glasses, unsettled.
"Hello, Monique... It’s Fred. We met last night; you had dinner at my place with your daughter Caroline and your grandson Adam. Do you remember?"
The old lady frowned and let out an incredulous chuckle.
"At your place? Last night?" My young friend, I have never seen you in my life, and I didn't set foot anywhere last night. You must be mistaken.
At that moment, a strong waft of alcohol hit Fred’s nostrils. An overpowering smell of whisky. Fred was suddenly struck by a jarring contrast: the Monique he had hosted for dinner had flatly refused even a drop of alcohol all evening, displaying an almost clinical sobriety. In contrast, the woman standing before him could barely stay on her feet. Fred then recalled that Caroline, too, had struggled with serious drinking problems in the past, before quitting cold turkey the moment she returned a year earlier. It runs in the family, he immediately concluded, convinced that some shared distress or vice bound mother and daughter together.
"Please, Monique, don't play games," Fred insisted, his voice trembling with anxiety. "Where are Caroline and Adam? Why did they leave?"
"I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!" the old woman snapped, leaning against the doorframe. "I haven’t seen Caroline in ages. Not since she’s been in the slammer! And who is this Adam guy?"
Fred felt his blood run cold, but his mind tried to set the record straight.
"No, you’re mistaken! It’s her twin sister, Laetitia, who’s in prison! Caroline was with me."
Monique froze, then let out a loud, raucous laugh—almost vulgar—that reeked of whisky.
"A twin sister? Laetitia? You’re completely out of your mind, you poor boy! Caroline doesn’t have a twin sister. She’s my only child; she’s the only one I ever had! I might be drunk and not always remember my nights, but I certainly know what I birthed. She’s an only child!" Every word the old woman spoke acted like a computer virus, dismantling Fred’s belief system. No twin sister. No prison cell meant for someone else. The story about the scar, the lies told over breakfast... it was all falling apart.
"But... surely Caroline told you about me?" Fred tried, clutching at a last straw. "Fred? The engineer?"
Monique narrowed her alcohol-reddened eyes, searching through the alcoholic haze. Suddenly, a flash of recognition crossed her face.
"Ah... Wait. Fred... You work in telecoms, right?"
"Yes! That's it!" Fred confirmed, his heart leaping.
Monique shook her head, feeling no qualms about spilling it all, displaying the brutal candor of a bar regular.
"Well, there you have it! Caroline did indeed tell me about you, a little over a year ago. She told me she was scamming a young IT guy who worked in telecoms. A steady, respectable type—very naive... She said she’d swindled a heap of cash out of him. She used to laugh about how he was too nice, completely innocent. She just took advantage of the feelings you had for her. She felt absolutely nothing for you, big guy. You were never her type. She goes for bad boys."
Those words sank like blades into Fred’s kind heart. His six-foot-four frame seemed to slump under the weight of the humiliation. The love of his life—the woman for whom he would have given everything—had seen him as nothing more than an easy target, a fool ripe for fleecing. And Monique kept talking, explaining with detachment that Caroline had pulled the same stunt on dozens of guys just like Fred.
"So... where is she now?" Fred asked, his voice breaking, on the verge of tears. "Where can I find this Caroline?"
"I haven't a clue," Monique replied, shrugging. "The last time she wrote to me, it was a postcard from Tunisia. She went there to start a new life with her boyfriend. The real one, this time. Anyway, good luck, Mr. Engineer."
The door slammed shut with the sharp click of the latch.
Fred stood rooted to the doorstep, utterly lost, his brain in total overdrive, unable to make sense of the variables in this impossible equation. If the real Caroline was in Tunisia with her lover after having swindled him... if the real Monique was that alcoholic woman who had never even met him...
Who was the perfect woman who had shared his bed over the past year? Who was the icy, terrifying Monique from the day before? And above all... where had little Adam come from?
Fred drove home in a daze. He had to process all the contradictory information that was shattering his reality. Torn between a blind rage over the past deception and an infinite sadness at the emptiness of the present, he walked through the door of his large, empty house.
Silence awaited him—heavier than ever. Fred collapsed onto the living room floor, his back against the sofa, and sank back into despair, trapped in a hall of mirrors whose rules he no longer understood.
After an hour’s drive, his car pulled up in front of a secluded house—a slightly run-down detached home at the end of a cul-de-sac. With his heart pounding wildly, Fred walked up the driveway and knocked firmly on the door.
When it opened, Fred held his breath. The woman standing before him bore a striking resemblance to the Monique of the day before. Physically, she had the same facial structure and the same long gray hair. Yet, something was off. She was less polished, less put-together, dressed in an old, shapeless cardigan; however, her expression seemed much more cheerful—more human.
Monique studied him curiously, showing not the slightest sign of recognition.
"Hello... What can I do for you?" she asked, her voice slightly slurred.
Fred adjusted his glasses, unsettled.
"Hello, Monique... It’s Fred. We met last night; you had dinner at my place with your daughter Caroline and your grandson Adam. Do you remember?"
The old lady frowned and let out an incredulous chuckle.
"At your place? Last night?" My young friend, I have never seen you in my life, and I didn't set foot anywhere last night. You must be mistaken.
At that moment, a strong waft of alcohol hit Fred’s nostrils. An overpowering smell of whisky. Fred was suddenly struck by a jarring contrast: the Monique he had hosted for dinner had flatly refused even a drop of alcohol all evening, displaying an almost clinical sobriety. In contrast, the woman standing before him could barely stay on her feet. Fred then recalled that Caroline, too, had struggled with serious drinking problems in the past, before quitting cold turkey the moment she returned a year earlier. It runs in the family, he immediately concluded, convinced that some shared distress or vice bound mother and daughter together.
"Please, Monique, don't play games," Fred insisted, his voice trembling with anxiety. "Where are Caroline and Adam? Why did they leave?"
"I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!" the old woman snapped, leaning against the doorframe. "I haven’t seen Caroline in ages. Not since she’s been in the slammer! And who is this Adam guy?"
Fred felt his blood run cold, but his mind tried to set the record straight.
"No, you’re mistaken! It’s her twin sister, Laetitia, who’s in prison! Caroline was with me."
Monique froze, then let out a loud, raucous laugh—almost vulgar—that reeked of whisky.
"A twin sister? Laetitia? You’re completely out of your mind, you poor boy! Caroline doesn’t have a twin sister. She’s my only child; she’s the only one I ever had! I might be drunk and not always remember my nights, but I certainly know what I birthed. She’s an only child!" Every word the old woman spoke acted like a computer virus, dismantling Fred’s belief system. No twin sister. No prison cell meant for someone else. The story about the scar, the lies told over breakfast... it was all falling apart.
"But... surely Caroline told you about me?" Fred tried, clutching at a last straw. "Fred? The engineer?"
Monique narrowed her alcohol-reddened eyes, searching through the alcoholic haze. Suddenly, a flash of recognition crossed her face.
"Ah... Wait. Fred... You work in telecoms, right?"
"Yes! That's it!" Fred confirmed, his heart leaping.
Monique shook her head, feeling no qualms about spilling it all, displaying the brutal candor of a bar regular.
"Well, there you have it! Caroline did indeed tell me about you, a little over a year ago. She told me she was scamming a young IT guy who worked in telecoms. A steady, respectable type—very naive... She said she’d swindled a heap of cash out of him. She used to laugh about how he was too nice, completely innocent. She just took advantage of the feelings you had for her. She felt absolutely nothing for you, big guy. You were never her type. She goes for bad boys."
Those words sank like blades into Fred’s kind heart. His six-foot-four frame seemed to slump under the weight of the humiliation. The love of his life—the woman for whom he would have given everything—had seen him as nothing more than an easy target, a fool ripe for fleecing. And Monique kept talking, explaining with detachment that Caroline had pulled the same stunt on dozens of guys just like Fred.
"So... where is she now?" Fred asked, his voice breaking, on the verge of tears. "Where can I find this Caroline?"
"I haven't a clue," Monique replied, shrugging. "The last time she wrote to me, it was a postcard from Tunisia. She went there to start a new life with her boyfriend. The real one, this time. Anyway, good luck, Mr. Engineer."
The door slammed shut with the sharp click of the latch.
Fred stood rooted to the doorstep, utterly lost, his brain in total overdrive, unable to make sense of the variables in this impossible equation. If the real Caroline was in Tunisia with her lover after having swindled him... if the real Monique was that alcoholic woman who had never even met him...
Who was the perfect woman who had shared his bed over the past year? Who was the icy, terrifying Monique from the day before? And above all... where had little Adam come from?
Fred drove home in a daze. He had to process all the contradictory information that was shattering his reality. Torn between a blind rage over the past deception and an infinite sadness at the emptiness of the present, he walked through the door of his large, empty house.
Silence awaited him—heavier than ever. Fred collapsed onto the living room floor, his back against the sofa, and sank back into despair, trapped in a hall of mirrors whose rules he no longer understood.
Chapiter 11
The coordinates of destiny
Fred spent a sleepless night, his eyes fixed on the patterns on the ceiling in the darkness of the empty bedroom. His engineer’s mind, accustomed to seeking the most rational solution to a system bug, ran the data over and over until dawn. It was in the first light of day that he finally deduced—and, above all, hoped for—a wild hypothesis: the woman with whom he had built a home and had a child was simply not the same Caroline who had scammed him years ago. She must be a perfect lookalike—a woman physically identical but fundamentally different. He found the idea utterly incredible, almost unreal, yet it was the most bearable explanation for his kind heart—the only one that preserved the purity of the love he had received over the past year.
As soon as the sun was up, Fred decided to start his investigation from scratch. He had to return to the exact spot where the Uber driver had dropped off the first Monique. After meeting the alcoholic Monique the day before, he realized that the elderly lady who had sat at his table was also profoundly different. Perhaps he had missed a crucial detail on site, blinded by panic during his first visit?
He drove back and parked once more at the edge of the vast, deserted expanse. Walking methodically through the tall grass this time, Fred noticed something strange he hadn't spotted at first. In the center of the field, the vegetation changed. The ground appeared flattened and compacted over a specific area, as if a phenomenal force or weight had crushed the earth and snapped the stalks. Stepping back, his technician’s eye mapped out the area: the mark seemed to form a large, perfectly circular shape.
Fred stopped in the center of the circle. Suddenly, his head began to spin. A wave of dizziness nearly brought him to the ground, and a feeling of nausea gripped his stomach. As he regained his composure, he remembered that he hadn't eaten a thing since Caroline had disappeared. Leaving the grassy area, he headed toward the country road, where a small gas station doubled as a local snack bar.
He ordered a sandwich to go and sat down on an outdoor wooden bench. Just as he was taking his first bite, a familiar voice suddenly rang out behind him:
"Fred? But... what are you doing here?"
He started and turned around. It was Samia. She was standing in front of him, dressed casually and holding a cup of coffee, clearly surprised to run into him in such an out-of-the-way spot. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Samia’s expression shifted. She saw at once that Fred wasn't doing well: his eyes were bloodshot, his complexion had the pallor of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, and his hands were trembling.
"Fred, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?" she asked with genuine concern.
Fred looked down at his sandwich. In a low voice, he simply explained that his partner, Caroline, and his son, Adam, had disappeared. At first, Fred didn't want to elaborate too much, deliberately leaving out the wildest details. He still felt terribly awkward around her, remembering the fake seduction attempt he’d been subjected to at the office and the threats she had received from the *marabout*. But Samia, sensing his distress, managed to put him at ease. She was far less distant and evasive than she had been during their brief encounter in the corridors at Télécom.
Fred then felt an overwhelming need to pour his heart out. He laid it all out: his doubts, his suspicions regarding Caroline’s identity, the visit from the terrifying mother, and the discovery the next day of the real, alcoholic Monique. Samia listened without interrupting, her face registering first the bewilderment caused by the bizarre events, and then deep emotion at the story of this broken father.
"It’s... it’s hard to believe," she whispered, gently taking his hand. "How can I help you, Fred? What do we do?" Fred ran a weary hand over his face, readjusting his glasses.
"I don’t know what to do anymore, Samia... The real Caroline seems to be in Tunisia. And if the woman I’m in love with isn’t her, I have absolutely no information to go on. I don’t even know her real name."
That was when Fred’s engineer’s brain had a sudden, electric epiphany. A buried memory instantly resurfaced. He had completely forgotten that, right when Caroline had first come back into his life—while he was still traumatized by the financial scam—he had secretly installed a stealth tracking app on his partner’s phone. He had acted out of sheer paranoia, terrified she might vanish overnight again with his savings. But after a year of absolute happiness with her and Adam, and with trust firmly established, he had ended up completely forgetting about the existence of that tracker.
Frenzied, Fred pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers flew across the screen to open the app’s interface. He initiated the search protocol, holding his breath.
A loading bar scrolled across the screen. Fred felt a massive wave of relief seeing that the app was still working and—most importantly—that Caroline’s phone was active and transmitting a signal. The screen refreshed, displaying a detailed road map and a blinking icon marking the device's exact location.
"I’ve got it," Fred whispered, his eyes shining. "I know where she is. I have to go."
Samia, worried to see him so utterly exhausted and dreading what he might find at the end of the journey, stood up along with him.
"You aren't going alone, Fred. Let me come with you."
Fred looked at his former colleague, touched by her unexpected support, and nodded his agreement. They got into the car together, guided by the GPS signal, unaware that they were driving toward a final confrontation with the unseen.
As soon as the sun was up, Fred decided to start his investigation from scratch. He had to return to the exact spot where the Uber driver had dropped off the first Monique. After meeting the alcoholic Monique the day before, he realized that the elderly lady who had sat at his table was also profoundly different. Perhaps he had missed a crucial detail on site, blinded by panic during his first visit?
He drove back and parked once more at the edge of the vast, deserted expanse. Walking methodically through the tall grass this time, Fred noticed something strange he hadn't spotted at first. In the center of the field, the vegetation changed. The ground appeared flattened and compacted over a specific area, as if a phenomenal force or weight had crushed the earth and snapped the stalks. Stepping back, his technician’s eye mapped out the area: the mark seemed to form a large, perfectly circular shape.
Fred stopped in the center of the circle. Suddenly, his head began to spin. A wave of dizziness nearly brought him to the ground, and a feeling of nausea gripped his stomach. As he regained his composure, he remembered that he hadn't eaten a thing since Caroline had disappeared. Leaving the grassy area, he headed toward the country road, where a small gas station doubled as a local snack bar.
He ordered a sandwich to go and sat down on an outdoor wooden bench. Just as he was taking his first bite, a familiar voice suddenly rang out behind him:
"Fred? But... what are you doing here?"
He started and turned around. It was Samia. She was standing in front of him, dressed casually and holding a cup of coffee, clearly surprised to run into him in such an out-of-the-way spot. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Samia’s expression shifted. She saw at once that Fred wasn't doing well: his eyes were bloodshot, his complexion had the pallor of a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, and his hands were trembling.
"Fred, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?" she asked with genuine concern.
Fred looked down at his sandwich. In a low voice, he simply explained that his partner, Caroline, and his son, Adam, had disappeared. At first, Fred didn't want to elaborate too much, deliberately leaving out the wildest details. He still felt terribly awkward around her, remembering the fake seduction attempt he’d been subjected to at the office and the threats she had received from the *marabout*. But Samia, sensing his distress, managed to put him at ease. She was far less distant and evasive than she had been during their brief encounter in the corridors at Télécom.
Fred then felt an overwhelming need to pour his heart out. He laid it all out: his doubts, his suspicions regarding Caroline’s identity, the visit from the terrifying mother, and the discovery the next day of the real, alcoholic Monique. Samia listened without interrupting, her face registering first the bewilderment caused by the bizarre events, and then deep emotion at the story of this broken father.
"It’s... it’s hard to believe," she whispered, gently taking his hand. "How can I help you, Fred? What do we do?" Fred ran a weary hand over his face, readjusting his glasses.
"I don’t know what to do anymore, Samia... The real Caroline seems to be in Tunisia. And if the woman I’m in love with isn’t her, I have absolutely no information to go on. I don’t even know her real name."
That was when Fred’s engineer’s brain had a sudden, electric epiphany. A buried memory instantly resurfaced. He had completely forgotten that, right when Caroline had first come back into his life—while he was still traumatized by the financial scam—he had secretly installed a stealth tracking app on his partner’s phone. He had acted out of sheer paranoia, terrified she might vanish overnight again with his savings. But after a year of absolute happiness with her and Adam, and with trust firmly established, he had ended up completely forgetting about the existence of that tracker.
Frenzied, Fred pulled his phone from his pocket. His fingers flew across the screen to open the app’s interface. He initiated the search protocol, holding his breath.
A loading bar scrolled across the screen. Fred felt a massive wave of relief seeing that the app was still working and—most importantly—that Caroline’s phone was active and transmitting a signal. The screen refreshed, displaying a detailed road map and a blinking icon marking the device's exact location.
"I’ve got it," Fred whispered, his eyes shining. "I know where she is. I have to go."
Samia, worried to see him so utterly exhausted and dreading what he might find at the end of the journey, stood up along with him.
"You aren't going alone, Fred. Let me come with you."
Fred looked at his former colleague, touched by her unexpected support, and nodded his agreement. They got into the car together, guided by the GPS signal, unaware that they were driving toward a final confrontation with the unseen.
Chapiter 12
The mask and the truth
Guided by the tracking app’s GPS signal, Fred parked his car in the lot of a drab, nondescript suburban hotel. His heart was pounding wildly. Caroline’s phone was in there somewhere, behind one of those anonymous windows. But once he reached the entrance, a practical doubt struck him: how could he get into the room if his partner was locked inside? He had no warrant, no legal authority.
Samia, who had accompanied him from the gas station, placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
"Leave it to me, Fred. Stay here. I’ll go talk to the manager at the front desk; I should be able to get the room number and even the key."
Fred let her handle it without protest. In his shattered state of mind, he reasoned that an elegant, poised woman like Samia could use her charm and diplomacy on the receptionist—giving them a far better chance of success than a stranger standing six-foot-four, looking pale and on the verge of a breakdown.
A few minutes later, the lobby’s automatic doors slid open. Samia reappeared with a faint smile, twirling a key card between her fingers. Fred was stunned.
"Already? How did you do it?"
She let out a soft, mysterious laugh.
"I told you, Fred—I’m full of surprises and very resourceful. Don’t underestimate me. Come on, it’s on the second floor."
They hurried up the stairs and stopped in front of the designated door. Fred took the card, swiped it through the reader—which flashed green—and pushed the door open. But relief instantly gave way to bitter disappointment. The room was completely empty. The bed was made, there were no bags lying around, and the closet stood wide open and unused. The room was entirely unoccupied. Fred took a step back, bewildered, feeling panic wash over him once more.
"But... there's no one here! Samia, are you sure this is the right key? Did you get the wrong room?"
"I can confirm it’s the right one, Fred," she replied in a soft, almost detached voice.
At the end of his tether, overcome by exhaustion and a succession of dead ends, Fred collapsed onto the edge of the bed. The tears he had been holding back for hours began to stream down his cheeks, his tall frame racked with sobs. Moved by his distress, Samia moved closer, sitting right beside him to offer her support.
Fred tried to straighten up, but his head began to spin violently. A fresh wave of dizziness, more intense than the others, made him lose his balance for a moment.
"You really don't look well, Fred," Samia murmured, observing his pallid complexion. "You haven't eaten a thing since Caroline disappeared. Stay right there—don't move. I'm going down to the lobby to get you a snack from the vending machine. It’ll get your blood sugar back up."
She stood up and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Fred was left alone, standing in the middle of the impersonal hotel room. Refusing to give up, he took out his phone once more and dialed Caroline’s number. He held the device to his ear.
The first ring sounded in the earpiece. *Beep... Beep...*
Suddenly, a faint sound drifted through the wall: the muffled cries of a baby. Then, the door handle turned. Someone entered the room. At that same instant, a shrill, familiar melody erupted into the air. Fred instantly recognized the unique, custom ringtone he had set up himself for Caroline’s phone.
He looked down, his eyes misting over with tears. Caroline had appeared before him, holding little Adam against her chest.
Fred didn't try to make sense of it. In a purely instinctive surge, he rushed toward them and wrapped her in a tight embrace, his large frame trembling with relief. Upon seeing his father, little Adam let out a burst of laughter and smiled, reaching his tiny hands out toward Fred’s glasses. Tears welled in Fred’s eyes as the words tumbled out:
"Where were you? Why did you leave? Why did you disappear like that?" "Caroline, I was so scared..."
The young woman looked at him with immense tenderness mingled with gravity.
"Sit down, Fred. Please. I’m going to tell you everything."
She gently unclasped Adam from her arms and handed him to Fred. The warm contact of her son—still calm and happy to be back with his father—helped steady her racing heart. Fred sat on the bed, cradling the infant close, while Caroline remained standing before him in the middle of the room.
She took a deep breath, clasped her hands, and shattered the illusion once and for all:
"I am not Caroline."
Fred closed his eyes for a moment. After meeting the alcoholic Monique and learning about the scam in Tunisia, he was only half-surprised. The logic of the system demanded this variable.
"Okay..." he murmured, his voice hoarse. "But wait... Samia could come up from the lobby any minute. We should wait for her so I can understand everything."
Caroline offered a sad smile and shook her head.
"There’s no point waiting for Samia, Fred."
Fred frowned, but before he could ask a single question, the face of the woman before him began to blur. Before his wide eyes, her bone structure, skin tone, and long brown hair began to ripple like a mirage. In a split second, Caroline’s features dissolved, replaced by those of Samia—dressed exactly as she had been at the gas station.
"I am the Samia you were with just moments ago," she said, her voice a blend of both their tones.
Seized by sheer, visceral terror, Fred recoiled slightly on the mattress, clutching Adam even tighter against his chest as if to shield him with his own body. The little boy, however, showed no fear, watching the scene with serene curiosity. Stunned by Fred’s reaction, Samia’s features rippled once more. The transformation reversed, and the entity resumed the appearance of Caroline. Fred remained frozen, unable to utter a word; his engineer’s mind was completely overwhelmed by what he had just witnessed. The laws of physics and biology had been shattered.
The young woman took a step toward him, her hands open in a gesture of peace. Her eyes, once so dark, now shone with a glow of absolute purity.
"My real name is Shirine," she began, her voice soft and vibrant with emotion. "And I want you to know one thing, Fred—the most important thing of all: I love you. And I love our son. I love you both more than anything in the world, with a love that goes beyond anything you could imagine. Please, don't leave... Let me tell you the whole story from the beginning."
Fred locked eyes with her. Beneath the shock of the metamorphosis, beneath the successive masks of the fake Samia and the fake Caroline, he recognized a disarming sincerity in Shirine’s gaze. There was a raw truth, a profound human vulnerability in her words that rang undeniably real. His heart of gold surrendered. His tall frame slowly relaxed against the bed. He nodded gently, adjusted his glasses, and allowed Shirine a moment to gather her strength before she began her long story.
Samia, who had accompanied him from the gas station, placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
"Leave it to me, Fred. Stay here. I’ll go talk to the manager at the front desk; I should be able to get the room number and even the key."
Fred let her handle it without protest. In his shattered state of mind, he reasoned that an elegant, poised woman like Samia could use her charm and diplomacy on the receptionist—giving them a far better chance of success than a stranger standing six-foot-four, looking pale and on the verge of a breakdown.
A few minutes later, the lobby’s automatic doors slid open. Samia reappeared with a faint smile, twirling a key card between her fingers. Fred was stunned.
"Already? How did you do it?"
She let out a soft, mysterious laugh.
"I told you, Fred—I’m full of surprises and very resourceful. Don’t underestimate me. Come on, it’s on the second floor."
They hurried up the stairs and stopped in front of the designated door. Fred took the card, swiped it through the reader—which flashed green—and pushed the door open. But relief instantly gave way to bitter disappointment. The room was completely empty. The bed was made, there were no bags lying around, and the closet stood wide open and unused. The room was entirely unoccupied. Fred took a step back, bewildered, feeling panic wash over him once more.
"But... there's no one here! Samia, are you sure this is the right key? Did you get the wrong room?"
"I can confirm it’s the right one, Fred," she replied in a soft, almost detached voice.
At the end of his tether, overcome by exhaustion and a succession of dead ends, Fred collapsed onto the edge of the bed. The tears he had been holding back for hours began to stream down his cheeks, his tall frame racked with sobs. Moved by his distress, Samia moved closer, sitting right beside him to offer her support.
Fred tried to straighten up, but his head began to spin violently. A fresh wave of dizziness, more intense than the others, made him lose his balance for a moment.
"You really don't look well, Fred," Samia murmured, observing his pallid complexion. "You haven't eaten a thing since Caroline disappeared. Stay right there—don't move. I'm going down to the lobby to get you a snack from the vending machine. It’ll get your blood sugar back up."
She stood up and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Fred was left alone, standing in the middle of the impersonal hotel room. Refusing to give up, he took out his phone once more and dialed Caroline’s number. He held the device to his ear.
The first ring sounded in the earpiece. *Beep... Beep...*
Suddenly, a faint sound drifted through the wall: the muffled cries of a baby. Then, the door handle turned. Someone entered the room. At that same instant, a shrill, familiar melody erupted into the air. Fred instantly recognized the unique, custom ringtone he had set up himself for Caroline’s phone.
He looked down, his eyes misting over with tears. Caroline had appeared before him, holding little Adam against her chest.
Fred didn't try to make sense of it. In a purely instinctive surge, he rushed toward them and wrapped her in a tight embrace, his large frame trembling with relief. Upon seeing his father, little Adam let out a burst of laughter and smiled, reaching his tiny hands out toward Fred’s glasses. Tears welled in Fred’s eyes as the words tumbled out:
"Where were you? Why did you leave? Why did you disappear like that?" "Caroline, I was so scared..."
The young woman looked at him with immense tenderness mingled with gravity.
"Sit down, Fred. Please. I’m going to tell you everything."
She gently unclasped Adam from her arms and handed him to Fred. The warm contact of her son—still calm and happy to be back with his father—helped steady her racing heart. Fred sat on the bed, cradling the infant close, while Caroline remained standing before him in the middle of the room.
She took a deep breath, clasped her hands, and shattered the illusion once and for all:
"I am not Caroline."
Fred closed his eyes for a moment. After meeting the alcoholic Monique and learning about the scam in Tunisia, he was only half-surprised. The logic of the system demanded this variable.
"Okay..." he murmured, his voice hoarse. "But wait... Samia could come up from the lobby any minute. We should wait for her so I can understand everything."
Caroline offered a sad smile and shook her head.
"There’s no point waiting for Samia, Fred."
Fred frowned, but before he could ask a single question, the face of the woman before him began to blur. Before his wide eyes, her bone structure, skin tone, and long brown hair began to ripple like a mirage. In a split second, Caroline’s features dissolved, replaced by those of Samia—dressed exactly as she had been at the gas station.
"I am the Samia you were with just moments ago," she said, her voice a blend of both their tones.
Seized by sheer, visceral terror, Fred recoiled slightly on the mattress, clutching Adam even tighter against his chest as if to shield him with his own body. The little boy, however, showed no fear, watching the scene with serene curiosity. Stunned by Fred’s reaction, Samia’s features rippled once more. The transformation reversed, and the entity resumed the appearance of Caroline. Fred remained frozen, unable to utter a word; his engineer’s mind was completely overwhelmed by what he had just witnessed. The laws of physics and biology had been shattered.
The young woman took a step toward him, her hands open in a gesture of peace. Her eyes, once so dark, now shone with a glow of absolute purity.
"My real name is Shirine," she began, her voice soft and vibrant with emotion. "And I want you to know one thing, Fred—the most important thing of all: I love you. And I love our son. I love you both more than anything in the world, with a love that goes beyond anything you could imagine. Please, don't leave... Let me tell you the whole story from the beginning."
Fred locked eyes with her. Beneath the shock of the metamorphosis, beneath the successive masks of the fake Samia and the fake Caroline, he recognized a disarming sincerity in Shirine’s gaze. There was a raw truth, a profound human vulnerability in her words that rang undeniably real. His heart of gold surrendered. His tall frame slowly relaxed against the bed. He nodded gently, adjusted his glasses, and allowed Shirine a moment to gather her strength before she began her long story.
Chapiter 13
The hybridization project
Seated on a simple chair facing Fred, Shirine locked eyes with him. The silence of the hotel room was broken only by the steady breathing of Adam, asleep in his father’s arms. In a soft voice, tinged with an otherworldly melancholy, she began her story.
Light-years from Earth, in the heart of a dying star system, there existed a civilization of unimaginable technological advancement. Yet, behind their vast knowledge lay a tragedy: the race was facing extinction. Their genetic material, though having reached a pinnacle of perfection, had ultimately degenerated. Having evolved into beings of pure, cold, and calculating intelligence, they had lost the capacity to feel any emotion whatsoever. Love, compassion, sorrow, and even hatred had become entirely alien to them.
Faced with this slow demise, their greatest scientists devised a desperate rescue plan: to crossbreed their species with a race deemed "inferior" yet biologically vibrant, in order to give rise to a new hybrid lineage. This new generation would inherit their prodigious intellect while incorporating new biological and emotional qualities.
A fter scanning the cosmos, they set their sights on humanity. But hope was short-lived. Their studies revealed a terrible flaw: a near-total genetic incompatibility made direct mating between their people and Earthlings physiologically impossible.
To circumvent this obstacle, genetic engineers designed a unique being—a custom-crafted biological bridge: a shapeshifting organism capable of restructuring its own matter to adapt to human physiology. However, their algorithms revealed an incredible statistical anomaly. Despite the eight billion humans inhabiting Earth, only one single Earthling possessed the exact genetic profile required to be compatible with this creature and allow for a viable embryo.
This hybrid being was programmed to become the ultimate companion—the perfect other half—for this man. Yet, the creators had very little information about their target. They possessed only a name—Fred—his DNA profile, and the geographic coordinates of where he lived and worked. Thanks to the shapeshifting abilities of the creature, named Shirine, they anticipated that the bond and the seduction would occur naturally once she had located him.
Her mission was surgically precise: infiltrate human society, find Fred, mate with him at all costs, and conceive a unique child born of genuine passion. She was then to raise the infant on Earth for a maximum of one year before her people returned to retrieve them both and save their world.
The landing took place at night, amidst a thunderous surge of invisible magnetic waves. A scout ship discreetly deposited Shirine in the middle of a secluded vacant lot—hidden from prying eyes—not far from the major metropolis where Fred worked. No sooner had the creature set foot on the sandy ground than the craft shifted into its stealth mode and vanished into the void of space, crushing the vegetation beneath its circular wake.
In her original form—a strangely beautiful, translucent, and fluid humanoid silhouette—Shirine began to walk. She wandered first through deserted suburban alleyways, using her heightened senses to perceive the stench of pollution, the chill of the night, and the crushing weight of Earth's gravity.
Suddenly, rounding a railway bridge, she found herself face-to-face with a human. It was a beggar woman, clearly drunk, who was staggering through the darkness with a bottle in her hand. Startled and terrified by the appearance of this unknown, glowing figure, the old woman let out a stifled cry.
Panicked by this unexpected reaction, Shirine acted on instinct. With a swift movement and superhuman strength, she cleanly knocked the unfortunate woman unconscious. Observing the inert body on the ground, the creature activated her assimilation abilities. Undergoing rapid cellular restructuring, her skin, hair, and features shifted to perfectly mimic the homeless woman's appearance.
She stripped the woman of her worn clothes to wear them herself and searched the pockets, discovering a few coins. With her human appearance now stabilized, Shirine took her first steps into our world. Guided by magnetic coordinates encoded in her memory, she began her journey toward the city to track down the man who held the key to her future.
Light-years from Earth, in the heart of a dying star system, there existed a civilization of unimaginable technological advancement. Yet, behind their vast knowledge lay a tragedy: the race was facing extinction. Their genetic material, though having reached a pinnacle of perfection, had ultimately degenerated. Having evolved into beings of pure, cold, and calculating intelligence, they had lost the capacity to feel any emotion whatsoever. Love, compassion, sorrow, and even hatred had become entirely alien to them.
Faced with this slow demise, their greatest scientists devised a desperate rescue plan: to crossbreed their species with a race deemed "inferior" yet biologically vibrant, in order to give rise to a new hybrid lineage. This new generation would inherit their prodigious intellect while incorporating new biological and emotional qualities.
A fter scanning the cosmos, they set their sights on humanity. But hope was short-lived. Their studies revealed a terrible flaw: a near-total genetic incompatibility made direct mating between their people and Earthlings physiologically impossible.
To circumvent this obstacle, genetic engineers designed a unique being—a custom-crafted biological bridge: a shapeshifting organism capable of restructuring its own matter to adapt to human physiology. However, their algorithms revealed an incredible statistical anomaly. Despite the eight billion humans inhabiting Earth, only one single Earthling possessed the exact genetic profile required to be compatible with this creature and allow for a viable embryo.
This hybrid being was programmed to become the ultimate companion—the perfect other half—for this man. Yet, the creators had very little information about their target. They possessed only a name—Fred—his DNA profile, and the geographic coordinates of where he lived and worked. Thanks to the shapeshifting abilities of the creature, named Shirine, they anticipated that the bond and the seduction would occur naturally once she had located him.
Her mission was surgically precise: infiltrate human society, find Fred, mate with him at all costs, and conceive a unique child born of genuine passion. She was then to raise the infant on Earth for a maximum of one year before her people returned to retrieve them both and save their world.
The landing took place at night, amidst a thunderous surge of invisible magnetic waves. A scout ship discreetly deposited Shirine in the middle of a secluded vacant lot—hidden from prying eyes—not far from the major metropolis where Fred worked. No sooner had the creature set foot on the sandy ground than the craft shifted into its stealth mode and vanished into the void of space, crushing the vegetation beneath its circular wake.
In her original form—a strangely beautiful, translucent, and fluid humanoid silhouette—Shirine began to walk. She wandered first through deserted suburban alleyways, using her heightened senses to perceive the stench of pollution, the chill of the night, and the crushing weight of Earth's gravity.
Suddenly, rounding a railway bridge, she found herself face-to-face with a human. It was a beggar woman, clearly drunk, who was staggering through the darkness with a bottle in her hand. Startled and terrified by the appearance of this unknown, glowing figure, the old woman let out a stifled cry.
Panicked by this unexpected reaction, Shirine acted on instinct. With a swift movement and superhuman strength, she cleanly knocked the unfortunate woman unconscious. Observing the inert body on the ground, the creature activated her assimilation abilities. Undergoing rapid cellular restructuring, her skin, hair, and features shifted to perfectly mimic the homeless woman's appearance.
She stripped the woman of her worn clothes to wear them herself and searched the pockets, discovering a few coins. With her human appearance now stabilized, Shirine took her first steps into our world. Guided by magnetic coordinates encoded in her memory, she began her journey toward the city to track down the man who held the key to her future.
Chapiter 14
The many faces of illusion
For several days, Shirine wandered the bustling streets of the city where Fred lived his meticulously regimented life. Disguised as a beggar, she learned to navigate the noise, the crowds, and the weariness of the people around her. Her persistence eventually paid off: one evening, she spotted his towering, six-foot-four frame leaving the Telecom offices. From that moment on, she began to observe him methodically, memorizing his comings and goings, the rhythm of his days, and the apparent loneliness that seemed to emanate from his stride.
To get closer to him without arousing suspicion, Shirine needed direct access to his workplace. One evening, she noticed a cleaning woman leaving the company building after her shift. She discreetly followed her home to a small suburban apartment. The woman lived alone; she was of Hispanic origin, in her forties, with a full figure, and her name was Elsa.
Seizing the moment Elsa was closing her door, Shirine slipped inside. With a precise movement, she knocked the woman unconscious before she could scream, then bound her securely to her own bed. Using the small amount of cash she found in her victim’s purse, Shirine went to a pharmacy to buy a large supply of sleeping pills. Back at the apartment, she administered the sedatives to the cleaning woman, ensuring she would remain deeply asleep and harmless while still tied up. Shirine then thoroughly searched the home, studied Elsa’s habits, and mapped her own cells to the woman’s biological profile before putting on her work uniform.
The next day, disguised as Elsa, Shirine reported for her shift at Telecom without anyone noticing the slightest difference. As she swept between the desks, she was able to observe Fred up close in his professional environment. The engineer seemed somewhat solitary, focused on his technical tasks and having little contact with his colleagues. However, during a lunch break, Shirine caught him alone at his screen; instead of monitoring the company’s networks, he was working passionately on a website dedicated to the actress Angelina Jolie. Back at Elsa’s home—where she kept her captive, sedated, and fed via IV drip to ensure her survival—Shirine turned on the housekeeper’s computer. She went online and found the website managed by Fred. For hours, she immersed herself in the actress’s world. Through the available photos and videos, she studied her mannerisms, the timbre of her voice, her expressions, and her slightest facial movements. She grasped the aesthetic ideal that so fascinated the man.
The following night, Shirine put her plan into action. She went to Fred’s home and slipped inside with the stealth of a shadow. In the dim light of the bedroom, she altered her molecular structure to assume the exact appearance of Angelina Jolie. She took perfection a step further, faithfully reproducing every one of the star’s many tattoos on her own textured skin. Clad in a sheer black negligee, she slid her transformed body beneath Fred’s sheets.
The young engineer stirred, unsettled by the unexpected contact. Upon opening his eyes, he thought he had slipped into a waking dream when he discovered the icon of his screens lying beside him. Shirine did not utter a word, so as not to break the spell. She leaned over and kissed him. Completely overwhelmed by excitement and the surreal nature of the situation, Fred made love to Shirine—in the guise of Angelina—without questioning a thing, letting himself be swept away by the magic of the night.
Yet, despite the intensity of that torrid night, Shirine realized an immediate biological truth: the union was not fruitful for her mission. The genetic mechanism required for hybridization demanded total alchemy. Fred’s attraction to this fantasy was purely physical, superficial; It lacked heart, soul, and a genuine romantic connection.
Once Fred had fallen back into a deep sleep, Shirine left the bed. She quietly searched the apartment for clues regarding his reading habits, tastes, and secret vulnerabilities, before slipping out into the night to return to Elsa’s place.
Through this experience, the creature realized that Fred suffered from profound loneliness and was seeking, above all, a soulmate—a woman capable of loving him for who he truly was. Shirine then began devising a far more complex plan to decipher the engineer's psyche and find the key that would truly unlock his heart.
To get closer to him without arousing suspicion, Shirine needed direct access to his workplace. One evening, she noticed a cleaning woman leaving the company building after her shift. She discreetly followed her home to a small suburban apartment. The woman lived alone; she was of Hispanic origin, in her forties, with a full figure, and her name was Elsa.
Seizing the moment Elsa was closing her door, Shirine slipped inside. With a precise movement, she knocked the woman unconscious before she could scream, then bound her securely to her own bed. Using the small amount of cash she found in her victim’s purse, Shirine went to a pharmacy to buy a large supply of sleeping pills. Back at the apartment, she administered the sedatives to the cleaning woman, ensuring she would remain deeply asleep and harmless while still tied up. Shirine then thoroughly searched the home, studied Elsa’s habits, and mapped her own cells to the woman’s biological profile before putting on her work uniform.
The next day, disguised as Elsa, Shirine reported for her shift at Telecom without anyone noticing the slightest difference. As she swept between the desks, she was able to observe Fred up close in his professional environment. The engineer seemed somewhat solitary, focused on his technical tasks and having little contact with his colleagues. However, during a lunch break, Shirine caught him alone at his screen; instead of monitoring the company’s networks, he was working passionately on a website dedicated to the actress Angelina Jolie. Back at Elsa’s home—where she kept her captive, sedated, and fed via IV drip to ensure her survival—Shirine turned on the housekeeper’s computer. She went online and found the website managed by Fred. For hours, she immersed herself in the actress’s world. Through the available photos and videos, she studied her mannerisms, the timbre of her voice, her expressions, and her slightest facial movements. She grasped the aesthetic ideal that so fascinated the man.
The following night, Shirine put her plan into action. She went to Fred’s home and slipped inside with the stealth of a shadow. In the dim light of the bedroom, she altered her molecular structure to assume the exact appearance of Angelina Jolie. She took perfection a step further, faithfully reproducing every one of the star’s many tattoos on her own textured skin. Clad in a sheer black negligee, she slid her transformed body beneath Fred’s sheets.
The young engineer stirred, unsettled by the unexpected contact. Upon opening his eyes, he thought he had slipped into a waking dream when he discovered the icon of his screens lying beside him. Shirine did not utter a word, so as not to break the spell. She leaned over and kissed him. Completely overwhelmed by excitement and the surreal nature of the situation, Fred made love to Shirine—in the guise of Angelina—without questioning a thing, letting himself be swept away by the magic of the night.
Yet, despite the intensity of that torrid night, Shirine realized an immediate biological truth: the union was not fruitful for her mission. The genetic mechanism required for hybridization demanded total alchemy. Fred’s attraction to this fantasy was purely physical, superficial; It lacked heart, soul, and a genuine romantic connection.
Once Fred had fallen back into a deep sleep, Shirine left the bed. She quietly searched the apartment for clues regarding his reading habits, tastes, and secret vulnerabilities, before slipping out into the night to return to Elsa’s place.
Through this experience, the creature realized that Fred suffered from profound loneliness and was seeking, above all, a soulmate—a woman capable of loving him for who he truly was. Shirine then began devising a far more complex plan to decipher the engineer's psyche and find the key that would truly unlock his heart.
Chapiter 15
The apothecary of secrets
After gathering all the necessary data on Fred’s fantasies, Shirine decided to wrap up the Elsa episode. She administered a final dose of sedative to the housekeeper—a substance calibrated to wipe out memories of the past forty-eight hours—before untying her. She left the apartment silently, hoping Elsa would attribute her blackout to a nasty flu or sheer exhaustion.
Using the secret code she had subtly intercepted while watching Elsa, Shirine had managed to withdraw a substantial amount of cash using her victim’s bank card. She felt no remorse; she was prepared to do whatever it took to succeed in her mission and save her species.
With these funds, Shirine set out to find a physical location for her new plan. She eventually found a small, abandoned commercial space in the 11th arrondissement. The room was empty and dusty, but it would serve her purpose perfectly. Shirine gave the place a thorough cleaning, then bought some second-hand furniture, candles, incense, and heavy fabrics to create the perfect illusion of an authentic clairvoyant’s parlor.
Once the stage was set, she drafted and printed a small advertisement on cheap paper: "Gina, Clairvoyant & Spiritual Healer – Solutions for singles, reuniting with a lost love, success. First consultation free." She then made sure to slip the flyer into Fred’s mailbox herself.
The next morning, on his way to work, Fred discovered the paper. Intrigued and driven by a sudden, inexplicable surge of desperation, he dialed the number listed on the flyer. Shirine, who was monitoring her temporary line, answered and scheduled an appointment for that very evening, right after he finished work at the telecom company. While the engineer spent his day in front of his screens, Shirine meticulously prepared her persona. She altered her molecular structure to take on the appearance of a Black woman in her fifties with a regal bearing, dressing her in colorful boubous and heavy, clinking jewelry. The avatar of Gina the *marabout* was born.
At the appointed time, Fred pushed open the door to the premises, making the bell chime. Faced with the dim lighting and the scent of incense, the towering, 1.92-meter-tall engineer was initially very shy—intimidated and ill at ease at the prospect of confiding in a stranger. But Shirine, using a soft, soothing voice, quickly managed to put him at ease."My name is Gina, my son," she said warmly. "I see the loneliness weighing on your shoulders, but I am here to help you break this cycle of sadness. Talk to me."
Touched by this kindness, Fred finally relaxed and warmed up to the woman he believed to be a spiritual healer. Shirine then began her subtle questioning:
"Tell me, is there a woman on your mind? A professional relationship, perhaps? A colleague?"
Fred adjusted his glasses and admitted, somewhat sheepishly, that he harbored deep feelings for a certain Samia—a stunning engineer he worked with—but that she was married and therefore out of reach. Then, opening his heart, he told her about another woman he had loved passionately, Caroline; he had lost touch with her after she abruptly left him.
Shirine questioned him extensively about both women. Fred confided everything he knew about them and eventually took a crumpled photograph of Caroline out of his wallet. Shirine took it and, under the pretext of examining it closely by candlelight, discreetly snapped a picture of the photo with her own phone, which was hidden beneath a cloth.
But as Fred spoke, something unexpected happened in the creature's mind. The more she learned about him, the more she was moved by his character. She discovered a man of integrity—honest, sincere, and possessing a rare, deeply endearing altruism. For the first time in her existence, Shirine—who came from a people incapable of feeling—began to experience an unfamiliar emotion: she was slowly falling in love with him. She found it intriguing that a man of such worth was not already married. From his story, she gathered that Caroline had callously taken advantage of his kindness, yet Fred had been madly in love with her—and a part of him perhaps still was.
To wrap up the session, Shirine performed a mock mystical ritual over Caroline’s photograph, murmuring made-up incantations.
"The spell is cast," she said. "Love will come knocking very soon, Fred. Prepare your heart."
Fred left Gina’s shop deeply intrigued, his mind filled with rational doubts about this magical promise. Yet, the long conversation had done him a world of good, lifting a weight he had been carrying for far too long.
Once alone, Shirine reverted to her true form to assess the situation. She now had two distinct avenues for reaching Fred’s heart.
The first was Samia. In the guise of Elsa, Shirine clearly remembered crossing paths with this stunning North African brunette in the corridors at Télécom. She had everything she needed to impersonate her.
The second option was Caroline. However, aside from a simple photograph of her face, she lacked crucial information—such as her voice, personality, and mannerisms—to embody her convincingly.
Shirine decided to try her luck first by assuming Samia’s appearance, hoping that their professional proximity and Fred’s attraction would do the rest.
Using the secret code she had subtly intercepted while watching Elsa, Shirine had managed to withdraw a substantial amount of cash using her victim’s bank card. She felt no remorse; she was prepared to do whatever it took to succeed in her mission and save her species.
With these funds, Shirine set out to find a physical location for her new plan. She eventually found a small, abandoned commercial space in the 11th arrondissement. The room was empty and dusty, but it would serve her purpose perfectly. Shirine gave the place a thorough cleaning, then bought some second-hand furniture, candles, incense, and heavy fabrics to create the perfect illusion of an authentic clairvoyant’s parlor.
Once the stage was set, she drafted and printed a small advertisement on cheap paper: "Gina, Clairvoyant & Spiritual Healer – Solutions for singles, reuniting with a lost love, success. First consultation free." She then made sure to slip the flyer into Fred’s mailbox herself.
The next morning, on his way to work, Fred discovered the paper. Intrigued and driven by a sudden, inexplicable surge of desperation, he dialed the number listed on the flyer. Shirine, who was monitoring her temporary line, answered and scheduled an appointment for that very evening, right after he finished work at the telecom company. While the engineer spent his day in front of his screens, Shirine meticulously prepared her persona. She altered her molecular structure to take on the appearance of a Black woman in her fifties with a regal bearing, dressing her in colorful boubous and heavy, clinking jewelry. The avatar of Gina the *marabout* was born.
At the appointed time, Fred pushed open the door to the premises, making the bell chime. Faced with the dim lighting and the scent of incense, the towering, 1.92-meter-tall engineer was initially very shy—intimidated and ill at ease at the prospect of confiding in a stranger. But Shirine, using a soft, soothing voice, quickly managed to put him at ease."My name is Gina, my son," she said warmly. "I see the loneliness weighing on your shoulders, but I am here to help you break this cycle of sadness. Talk to me."
Touched by this kindness, Fred finally relaxed and warmed up to the woman he believed to be a spiritual healer. Shirine then began her subtle questioning:
"Tell me, is there a woman on your mind? A professional relationship, perhaps? A colleague?"
Fred adjusted his glasses and admitted, somewhat sheepishly, that he harbored deep feelings for a certain Samia—a stunning engineer he worked with—but that she was married and therefore out of reach. Then, opening his heart, he told her about another woman he had loved passionately, Caroline; he had lost touch with her after she abruptly left him.
Shirine questioned him extensively about both women. Fred confided everything he knew about them and eventually took a crumpled photograph of Caroline out of his wallet. Shirine took it and, under the pretext of examining it closely by candlelight, discreetly snapped a picture of the photo with her own phone, which was hidden beneath a cloth.
But as Fred spoke, something unexpected happened in the creature's mind. The more she learned about him, the more she was moved by his character. She discovered a man of integrity—honest, sincere, and possessing a rare, deeply endearing altruism. For the first time in her existence, Shirine—who came from a people incapable of feeling—began to experience an unfamiliar emotion: she was slowly falling in love with him. She found it intriguing that a man of such worth was not already married. From his story, she gathered that Caroline had callously taken advantage of his kindness, yet Fred had been madly in love with her—and a part of him perhaps still was.
To wrap up the session, Shirine performed a mock mystical ritual over Caroline’s photograph, murmuring made-up incantations.
"The spell is cast," she said. "Love will come knocking very soon, Fred. Prepare your heart."
Fred left Gina’s shop deeply intrigued, his mind filled with rational doubts about this magical promise. Yet, the long conversation had done him a world of good, lifting a weight he had been carrying for far too long.
Once alone, Shirine reverted to her true form to assess the situation. She now had two distinct avenues for reaching Fred’s heart.
The first was Samia. In the guise of Elsa, Shirine clearly remembered crossing paths with this stunning North African brunette in the corridors at Télécom. She had everything she needed to impersonate her.
The second option was Caroline. However, aside from a simple photograph of her face, she lacked crucial information—such as her voice, personality, and mannerisms—to embody her convincingly.
Shirine decided to try her luck first by assuming Samia’s appearance, hoping that their professional proximity and Fred’s attraction would do the rest.
Chapiter 16
The test of virtue
To execute her new strategy, Shirine first had to sideline the real Samia so she could take her place without the risk of being exposed as an imposter. One evening, sporting the imposing features and colorful boubous of the spiritual healer Gina, she waited for the engineer outside the Telecom offices. Taking advantage of the parking lot's darkness, she suddenly stepped into her path. With the clinking of her heavy jewelry, Shirine fixed her with a gaze that was both magnetic and icy, instantly striking terror into her.
"I know who you are, Samia," she whispered in a cavernous voice. "Listen closely. You must never set foot in this company again. You are going to leave this city. If you refuse, or if you alert anyone—even the police—I will cast a curse of destruction upon you, your husband, and your entire family."
A deeply religious woman, Samia was terrified by this apparition and the threats of sorcery. She returned home trembling, feeling all the more vulnerable because her husband was away on a business trip. Overcome by panic, she barricaded herself in her apartment, not daring to step outside.
The next morning, the coast was clear. Shirine arrived at the Telecom complex perfectly disguised as Samia. Thanks to her long periods of observation while posing as Elsa and the confidences she had gathered as Gina, she had fully mastered the team's technical files. Claiming she needed expertise on a system maintenance issue, she sat down at Fred’s desk to work alongside him all morning.
As she manipulated lines of code, Shirine began to use her avatar’s charms to seduce the engineer. She adopted a more relaxed posture, lowered her voice to a more intimate tone, and subtly revealed the cleavage of her ample bosom. Fred, unaccustomed to such closeness from his colleague, began to grow nervous; he kept adjusting his glasses, clearly intimidated. Sensing that he was losing his composure, Shirine wisely eased off on her advances so as not to scare him away, then suggested they go out to a small restaurant for lunch.
During the meal, she skillfully drew Fred out about his private life. He explained that he was an only child and deeply attached to his parents. Although he tried to appear happy, Shirine easily detected the underlying unhappiness and pain stemming from his profound loneliness. At one point, she was on the verge of mentioning Caroline’s name to follow up on what he had said, but she stopped herself just in time, remembering that it was to Gina the spiritual healer—not Samia—that Fred had opened his heart. To comfort him, Shirine offered a series of sincere compliments: she told him he was attractive, funny, and incredibly endearing, and that he would bound to find his soulmate eventually. Fred blushed to the tips of his ears, deeply touched to receive such praise from a woman he secretly admired so much.
That afternoon, fate presented them with the perfect opportunity for intimacy: they found themselves alone in a secluded meeting room, finalizing an engineering report. Shirine deliberately created a sense of closeness, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen before turning Fred’s chair to face her. She gazed into his eyes, closed the distance between them, and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
Taken by surprise at first, Fred let himself be swept up in the intensity of the moment and returned her kiss for a long, burning instant. Shirine pressed herself against his towering 1.92-meter frame, embracing him passionately. Sensing the engineer’s growing arousal, the creature felt a surge of immense hope: perhaps her mission was nearing its goal.
Then, with a sudden effort of will, Fred gently but firmly pushed her away, breaking their embrace. Shirine tried to move closer again, but he raised his hands to stop her once and for all.
"Forgive me, Samia..." he said, breathless. "I’m sorry... I never should have accepted that kiss. It was a mistake."
Shirine stared at him, feigning confusion.
"Why, Fred? Do I... do I not attract you?"
Fred hesitated, his face flushed crimson, before answering with disarming honesty:
"You do, of course... You’re a magnificent woman, Samia; I’m very attracted to you. But you’re married. You’ve never mentioned any problems in your marriage, and my values strictly forbid me from breaking up a home. To me, marriage vows are sacred. I can’t disregard them."
Those words resonated deeply with Shirine. In that precise moment, she understood why this Earthman had been chosen as the only compatible partner on the entire planet: his moral integrity and nobility of spirit made him truly unique. She realized that any other man would have succumbed to temptation in the face of Samia’s charms, but not him.
"Let’s forget what just happened, please," Fred suggested gently, trying to dispel the awkwardness. Shirine, who had already discreetly unbuttoned half her blouse to seal their union, stopped. Touched by the respect he showed for others and for himself, she buttoned her garment back up.
"You're right. I'm sorry, Fred," she murmured, before gathering her things and leaving the room without another word.Fred was left alone in the meeting room, torn between the frustration of having rejected such an attractive woman who had offered herself to him, and a strange feeling that instantly brought to mind the predictions made during his visit to Gina. The fortune teller had been right: love had come knocking at his door.
Meanwhile, Shirine left the Telecom building—still wearing Samia’s likeness—and took refuge in the fortune teller’s deserted quarters. Once alone amidst the crimson fabrics and unlit candles, she was overcome by a sensation unlike anything she had ever known. Her eyes welled up, and tears began to stream down her avatar’s cheeks. For the first time in her existence, the extraterrestrial creature was weeping. Her mind was absorbing concepts previously unknown to her species: frustration, anger, and profound sadness.
A deep anxiety took hold of her regarding the success of her mission. Despite the illusions of Angelina Jolie and Samia, Fred had demonstrated absolute integrity. While he was physically drawn to these women, his heart remained stubbornly closed off. Shirine was forced to face the truth: Fred’s heart still belonged to the memory of Caroline—the very woman who had destroyed him.
Caroline was now her last remaining hope. To conceive the hybrid child with the passion her people demanded, Shirine would have to step into her rival’s shoes and learn to become the woman Fred loved more than anything else in the world.
"I know who you are, Samia," she whispered in a cavernous voice. "Listen closely. You must never set foot in this company again. You are going to leave this city. If you refuse, or if you alert anyone—even the police—I will cast a curse of destruction upon you, your husband, and your entire family."
A deeply religious woman, Samia was terrified by this apparition and the threats of sorcery. She returned home trembling, feeling all the more vulnerable because her husband was away on a business trip. Overcome by panic, she barricaded herself in her apartment, not daring to step outside.
The next morning, the coast was clear. Shirine arrived at the Telecom complex perfectly disguised as Samia. Thanks to her long periods of observation while posing as Elsa and the confidences she had gathered as Gina, she had fully mastered the team's technical files. Claiming she needed expertise on a system maintenance issue, she sat down at Fred’s desk to work alongside him all morning.
As she manipulated lines of code, Shirine began to use her avatar’s charms to seduce the engineer. She adopted a more relaxed posture, lowered her voice to a more intimate tone, and subtly revealed the cleavage of her ample bosom. Fred, unaccustomed to such closeness from his colleague, began to grow nervous; he kept adjusting his glasses, clearly intimidated. Sensing that he was losing his composure, Shirine wisely eased off on her advances so as not to scare him away, then suggested they go out to a small restaurant for lunch.
During the meal, she skillfully drew Fred out about his private life. He explained that he was an only child and deeply attached to his parents. Although he tried to appear happy, Shirine easily detected the underlying unhappiness and pain stemming from his profound loneliness. At one point, she was on the verge of mentioning Caroline’s name to follow up on what he had said, but she stopped herself just in time, remembering that it was to Gina the spiritual healer—not Samia—that Fred had opened his heart. To comfort him, Shirine offered a series of sincere compliments: she told him he was attractive, funny, and incredibly endearing, and that he would bound to find his soulmate eventually. Fred blushed to the tips of his ears, deeply touched to receive such praise from a woman he secretly admired so much.
That afternoon, fate presented them with the perfect opportunity for intimacy: they found themselves alone in a secluded meeting room, finalizing an engineering report. Shirine deliberately created a sense of closeness, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen before turning Fred’s chair to face her. She gazed into his eyes, closed the distance between them, and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
Taken by surprise at first, Fred let himself be swept up in the intensity of the moment and returned her kiss for a long, burning instant. Shirine pressed herself against his towering 1.92-meter frame, embracing him passionately. Sensing the engineer’s growing arousal, the creature felt a surge of immense hope: perhaps her mission was nearing its goal.
Then, with a sudden effort of will, Fred gently but firmly pushed her away, breaking their embrace. Shirine tried to move closer again, but he raised his hands to stop her once and for all.
"Forgive me, Samia..." he said, breathless. "I’m sorry... I never should have accepted that kiss. It was a mistake."
Shirine stared at him, feigning confusion.
"Why, Fred? Do I... do I not attract you?"
Fred hesitated, his face flushed crimson, before answering with disarming honesty:
"You do, of course... You’re a magnificent woman, Samia; I’m very attracted to you. But you’re married. You’ve never mentioned any problems in your marriage, and my values strictly forbid me from breaking up a home. To me, marriage vows are sacred. I can’t disregard them."
Those words resonated deeply with Shirine. In that precise moment, she understood why this Earthman had been chosen as the only compatible partner on the entire planet: his moral integrity and nobility of spirit made him truly unique. She realized that any other man would have succumbed to temptation in the face of Samia’s charms, but not him.
"Let’s forget what just happened, please," Fred suggested gently, trying to dispel the awkwardness. Shirine, who had already discreetly unbuttoned half her blouse to seal their union, stopped. Touched by the respect he showed for others and for himself, she buttoned her garment back up.
"You're right. I'm sorry, Fred," she murmured, before gathering her things and leaving the room without another word.Fred was left alone in the meeting room, torn between the frustration of having rejected such an attractive woman who had offered herself to him, and a strange feeling that instantly brought to mind the predictions made during his visit to Gina. The fortune teller had been right: love had come knocking at his door.
Meanwhile, Shirine left the Telecom building—still wearing Samia’s likeness—and took refuge in the fortune teller’s deserted quarters. Once alone amidst the crimson fabrics and unlit candles, she was overcome by a sensation unlike anything she had ever known. Her eyes welled up, and tears began to stream down her avatar’s cheeks. For the first time in her existence, the extraterrestrial creature was weeping. Her mind was absorbing concepts previously unknown to her species: frustration, anger, and profound sadness.
A deep anxiety took hold of her regarding the success of her mission. Despite the illusions of Angelina Jolie and Samia, Fred had demonstrated absolute integrity. While he was physically drawn to these women, his heart remained stubbornly closed off. Shirine was forced to face the truth: Fred’s heart still belonged to the memory of Caroline—the very woman who had destroyed him.
Caroline was now her last remaining hope. To conceive the hybrid child with the passion her people demanded, Shirine would have to step into her rival’s shoes and learn to become the woman Fred loved more than anything else in the world.
Chapiter 17
The rival's mark
Shirine began her investigation into Caroline with the meager clues at her disposal. Armed with the photo she had retrieved from Fred’s wallet, she spent hours scouring social media. Her efforts eventually paid off. By cross-referencing the data, she uncovered a grim reality: the real Caroline was currently incarcerated in a women's prison, serving a heavy sentence for drug possession, scams, and various financial frauds.
To truly get under her target's skin, Shirine needed to step into her world. She went to Caroline’s last known address—an apartment in a working-class neighborhood. Before knocking, she altered her features to assume the appearance of Laetitia, Caroline’s best friend, whom she had identified in several Facebook photos.
She climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of the building’s landlord—an older man with a wary gaze who greeted her with a grunt.
"Hello, sir," Shirine said in a polite, confident voice. "I’m Laetitia, Caroline’s best friend. I’ve come to pick up a few of her things and look after her plants while she’s away."
The landlord crossed his arms, eyeing her up and down with undisguised hostility.
"Oh, so she still has friends, does she? We haven't seen her hanging around here for months. Where’d she go this time? On the run or something?"
"She... she’s traveling abroad for work," Shirine improvised. "It was all quite sudden, but she’ll be away for a long time."
The man let out a dry, scornful laugh.
"Her work? Don't make me laugh. I couldn't care less where she’s dragging herself off to, but there’s a much more urgent problem. Your friend is three months behind on rent. Three months!" So listen to me closely, "Laetitia": if I don't have the money by the end of the week, I’m changing the locks and tossing all her stuff straight into the trash. I don't have time to waste on bums like her!
Shirine kept her composure, masking her anger at the man's brutality.
"I understand your frustration, sir. Let me inside to sort through things. I’ll see what I can do to get her situation squared away as soon as possible."
The landlord muttered a few insults under his breath, rummaged through his pockets, and threw the apartment key right at her face.
"You have until Saturday. Not a day longer!"
Once alone in the dusty apartment, Shirine began to search the place. She eventually discovered Caroline’s mobile phone, hidden at the back of a living room drawer—left behind because such devices were banned in prison. To unlock it, the creature shifted her facial features to assume Caroline’s exact appearance. The facial recognition sensor activated instantly, granting access to the data.
Shirine combed through every bit of the device's contents. Reading the text message history between Fred and Caroline, she pieced together the full story of their relationship, from their initial flirtation to their final moments together. She uncovered the last messages sent by Fred—frantic with worry—who kept writing heartbreaking words of love to a number that no longer answered, completely unaware that his partner was incarcerated. Reading these declarations of absolute purity, Shirine was deeply moved, yet she also felt a fierce, unfamiliar pang of jealousy toward the prisoner. She vowed then and there to do whatever it took to give Fred the happiness he deserved, by becoming the perfect woman he had always dreamed of finding in Caroline.
Next, while searching the bathroom, Shirine spotted a loose tile behind the vanity unit. Prying it up, she revealed a secret hiding place. Inside lay the delinquent’s most intimate secrets: a wad of cash, a packet of drugs, and—at the very bottom—Caroline’s private diary.
Leafing through the notebook, Shirine discovered the reality behind the façade. In it, Caroline coldly described the mechanics of her financial scam, detailing how she had manipulated Fred and exploited his kindness and good heart. Shirine was deeply appalled by the woman's cynicism. Seized by a protective surge of anger on behalf of the man she loved, she unhesitatingly tossed the packet of drugs into the toilet and flushed it away, then pocketed the wad of cash to reimburse the owner later and fund the next stages of her operation. Without wasting a moment, she memorized every date, anecdote, and meeting place mentioned in the notebook, making this fabricated past her own.
Determined to leave nothing to chance, Shirine grabbed a suitcase. She packed the clothes Caroline had worn in the photos taken with Fred, along with her official identification documents, cosmetics, and personal photo albums.
She left the apartment for good and used her rival’s ID card to rent a room in an inconspicuous hotel. It was there, within those anonymous walls, that Shirine spent the rest of the day rehearsing her role. She practiced in front of the mirror, mimicking Caroline’s gait, the tilt of her head, her facial expressions, and her verbal quirks. She notably learned that Caroline was in the habit of calling Fred "Chouchou."
As she reread the diary—which she was now committing to memory—Shirine felt a growing sense of annoyance at how openly the delinquent woman mocked Fred’s sincere feelings. For the creature, this transformation represented her last chance to save her people. She had to merge completely with Caroline’s identity to win back Fred, who would inevitably be wary and hurt at first. Yet Shirine was deeply convinced: faced with the sincere, loving, and devoted woman she was about to become, the engineer would have no choice but to surrender.
To truly get under her target's skin, Shirine needed to step into her world. She went to Caroline’s last known address—an apartment in a working-class neighborhood. Before knocking, she altered her features to assume the appearance of Laetitia, Caroline’s best friend, whom she had identified in several Facebook photos.
She climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of the building’s landlord—an older man with a wary gaze who greeted her with a grunt.
"Hello, sir," Shirine said in a polite, confident voice. "I’m Laetitia, Caroline’s best friend. I’ve come to pick up a few of her things and look after her plants while she’s away."
The landlord crossed his arms, eyeing her up and down with undisguised hostility.
"Oh, so she still has friends, does she? We haven't seen her hanging around here for months. Where’d she go this time? On the run or something?"
"She... she’s traveling abroad for work," Shirine improvised. "It was all quite sudden, but she’ll be away for a long time."
The man let out a dry, scornful laugh.
"Her work? Don't make me laugh. I couldn't care less where she’s dragging herself off to, but there’s a much more urgent problem. Your friend is three months behind on rent. Three months!" So listen to me closely, "Laetitia": if I don't have the money by the end of the week, I’m changing the locks and tossing all her stuff straight into the trash. I don't have time to waste on bums like her!
Shirine kept her composure, masking her anger at the man's brutality.
"I understand your frustration, sir. Let me inside to sort through things. I’ll see what I can do to get her situation squared away as soon as possible."
The landlord muttered a few insults under his breath, rummaged through his pockets, and threw the apartment key right at her face.
"You have until Saturday. Not a day longer!"
Once alone in the dusty apartment, Shirine began to search the place. She eventually discovered Caroline’s mobile phone, hidden at the back of a living room drawer—left behind because such devices were banned in prison. To unlock it, the creature shifted her facial features to assume Caroline’s exact appearance. The facial recognition sensor activated instantly, granting access to the data.
Shirine combed through every bit of the device's contents. Reading the text message history between Fred and Caroline, she pieced together the full story of their relationship, from their initial flirtation to their final moments together. She uncovered the last messages sent by Fred—frantic with worry—who kept writing heartbreaking words of love to a number that no longer answered, completely unaware that his partner was incarcerated. Reading these declarations of absolute purity, Shirine was deeply moved, yet she also felt a fierce, unfamiliar pang of jealousy toward the prisoner. She vowed then and there to do whatever it took to give Fred the happiness he deserved, by becoming the perfect woman he had always dreamed of finding in Caroline.
Next, while searching the bathroom, Shirine spotted a loose tile behind the vanity unit. Prying it up, she revealed a secret hiding place. Inside lay the delinquent’s most intimate secrets: a wad of cash, a packet of drugs, and—at the very bottom—Caroline’s private diary.
Leafing through the notebook, Shirine discovered the reality behind the façade. In it, Caroline coldly described the mechanics of her financial scam, detailing how she had manipulated Fred and exploited his kindness and good heart. Shirine was deeply appalled by the woman's cynicism. Seized by a protective surge of anger on behalf of the man she loved, she unhesitatingly tossed the packet of drugs into the toilet and flushed it away, then pocketed the wad of cash to reimburse the owner later and fund the next stages of her operation. Without wasting a moment, she memorized every date, anecdote, and meeting place mentioned in the notebook, making this fabricated past her own.
Determined to leave nothing to chance, Shirine grabbed a suitcase. She packed the clothes Caroline had worn in the photos taken with Fred, along with her official identification documents, cosmetics, and personal photo albums.
She left the apartment for good and used her rival’s ID card to rent a room in an inconspicuous hotel. It was there, within those anonymous walls, that Shirine spent the rest of the day rehearsing her role. She practiced in front of the mirror, mimicking Caroline’s gait, the tilt of her head, her facial expressions, and her verbal quirks. She notably learned that Caroline was in the habit of calling Fred "Chouchou."
As she reread the diary—which she was now committing to memory—Shirine felt a growing sense of annoyance at how openly the delinquent woman mocked Fred’s sincere feelings. For the creature, this transformation represented her last chance to save her people. She had to merge completely with Caroline’s identity to win back Fred, who would inevitably be wary and hurt at first. Yet Shirine was deeply convinced: faced with the sincere, loving, and devoted woman she was about to become, the engineer would have no choice but to surrender.
Chapiter 18
The return of the absent woman
Shirine’s plan went into action the very next day. Slipping into the persona of Caroline—and wearing the simple clothes she had stolen from her—she staged a supposedly chance encounter on Fred’s route to work. She positioned herself near an intersection he passed every morning, feigning a aimless, lost, and dejected air.
When Fred’s gaze met hers, the tall engineer froze, his breath catching in his throat. For the first few seconds, a perfectly understandable wariness showed on his face. But the love he bore her quickly swept away his defenses. Seeing her so vulnerable and seemingly destitute, Fred approached, his heart pounding wildly. Overwhelmed by the unexpected joy of finding her again, he immediately offered financial help.
In a surge of intense emotion, he wrapped his large arms around Shirine, holding her close as if she might vanish into thin air once more. Shirine let herself rest against his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace, but when Fred tried to kiss her, she gently turned her head away, refusing to move too fast. She had to play the part of a broken woman—dignified yet reserved.
Deeply shaken, Fred took out his phone and called work to request emergency leave for the rest of the day. He couldn't let her walk away.
Sitting down on a public bench, Shirine began to unfold her story. Naturally, she made no mention of prison. Instead, she led him to believe that she had gone into seclusion to try and rebuild her life on her own—free from schemes, fraud, and scams.
"I wanted to change, Chouchou..." she whispered, using her intimate nickname for him; the sound made Fred shudder with emotion. "I’ve stopped everything. Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol... I want to start over from scratch. But I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do it alone. I have no one left to help me."
Fred took her hands, his eyes glistening with tears.
"You have me, Caroline. I love you more than anything. I’m ready to do anything—absolutely anything—to help you get through this. You aren’t alone anymore."
Shirine then pointed to the small backpack she had brought with her, containing the bare minimum of her belongings.
"The problem is, I don't even have a place to stay anymore..."
Without a moment's hesitation, Fred seized the opportunity:
"Come live with me. My home is yours. Please, say yes."
Shirine feigned hesitation, lowering her eyes with a touch of mock shyness, before softly agreeing.
When they stepped through the door of the engineer's apartment, Shirine played her part to perfection, pretending to see the place for the first time—even though she had already scoured every nook and cranny while disguised as Angelina Jolie. Fred, excited and eager to treat her like a queen, immediately insisted she take his own bedroom, which had a much larger and more comfortable bed.
"It's too much, Fred; I can't accept..." she murmured.
"It's non-negotiable," he smiled warmly.
Claiming she had been sleeping on the streets for the past few days and was dead tired, Shirine lay down under the covers. Fred settled onto the living room sofa for the night, leaving her to rest. Behind the closed door, the creature pretended to be fast asleep, her heart strangely soothed by the protective presence of the man just a few meters away.
The next morning, upon waking, Shirine discovered a delightful surprise. Fred had prepared a hearty breakfast for her: warm croissants from the local bakery, steaming coffee, and a glass of fresh orange juice. Shirine thoroughly enjoyed the meal, deeply touched by such thoughtfulness and unprompted kindness—concepts entirely absent from her home planet.
Eventually, Fred had to leave for work, though not without a hint of worry at the thought of leaving her alone. Throughout the day, he sent her thoughtful little texts to make sure everything was fine. What Fred didn't know was that Shirine—thanks to her advanced technological capabilities—had detected the small surveillance camera discreetly installed in the kitchen. She knew he was watching her during his breaks. To reassure him, she made sure to stay quietly in the apartment, keeping herself occupied in a well-behaved manner. Seeing that his Caroline was staying calmly at his place, Fred felt immense relief and couldn't wait to get home as soon as possible.
When he returned from the office, Fred was wearing a broad smile.
"We're going out tonight," he announced. "Dinner and a movie. What do you say?"
Shirine happily agreed. It was a magnificent evening. Seated across from him in a cozy little bistro, she felt literally undressed by Fred’s gaze—not with vulgar desire, but with a look filled with infinite admiration and love. He couldn't stop gazing at her, hanging on her every word. For the first time, Shirine felt fully and sincerely loved for the person she was projecting herself to be.
On the way home, as they walked side by side beneath the city streetlights, Shirine turned to him.
"Thank you for everything, Fred. Truly."
With a natural movement, she slipped her hand into his. Fred thrilled with happiness. He squeezed her fingers tightly, stopped beneath the golden glow of a streetlight, and looked her straight in the eyes.
"I love you, Caroline."
Shirine felt as though she might melt right there. At that precise moment, the barrier of her mission crumbled. Driven by a purely human instinct, feeling that truth vibrate deep within her very being, she answered him in a whisper that came straight from the heart:
"I love you too, Fred."
When Fred’s gaze met hers, the tall engineer froze, his breath catching in his throat. For the first few seconds, a perfectly understandable wariness showed on his face. But the love he bore her quickly swept away his defenses. Seeing her so vulnerable and seemingly destitute, Fred approached, his heart pounding wildly. Overwhelmed by the unexpected joy of finding her again, he immediately offered financial help.
In a surge of intense emotion, he wrapped his large arms around Shirine, holding her close as if she might vanish into thin air once more. Shirine let herself rest against his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace, but when Fred tried to kiss her, she gently turned her head away, refusing to move too fast. She had to play the part of a broken woman—dignified yet reserved.
Deeply shaken, Fred took out his phone and called work to request emergency leave for the rest of the day. He couldn't let her walk away.
Sitting down on a public bench, Shirine began to unfold her story. Naturally, she made no mention of prison. Instead, she led him to believe that she had gone into seclusion to try and rebuild her life on her own—free from schemes, fraud, and scams.
"I wanted to change, Chouchou..." she whispered, using her intimate nickname for him; the sound made Fred shudder with emotion. "I’ve stopped everything. Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol... I want to start over from scratch. But I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do it alone. I have no one left to help me."
Fred took her hands, his eyes glistening with tears.
"You have me, Caroline. I love you more than anything. I’m ready to do anything—absolutely anything—to help you get through this. You aren’t alone anymore."
Shirine then pointed to the small backpack she had brought with her, containing the bare minimum of her belongings.
"The problem is, I don't even have a place to stay anymore..."
Without a moment's hesitation, Fred seized the opportunity:
"Come live with me. My home is yours. Please, say yes."
Shirine feigned hesitation, lowering her eyes with a touch of mock shyness, before softly agreeing.
When they stepped through the door of the engineer's apartment, Shirine played her part to perfection, pretending to see the place for the first time—even though she had already scoured every nook and cranny while disguised as Angelina Jolie. Fred, excited and eager to treat her like a queen, immediately insisted she take his own bedroom, which had a much larger and more comfortable bed.
"It's too much, Fred; I can't accept..." she murmured.
"It's non-negotiable," he smiled warmly.
Claiming she had been sleeping on the streets for the past few days and was dead tired, Shirine lay down under the covers. Fred settled onto the living room sofa for the night, leaving her to rest. Behind the closed door, the creature pretended to be fast asleep, her heart strangely soothed by the protective presence of the man just a few meters away.
The next morning, upon waking, Shirine discovered a delightful surprise. Fred had prepared a hearty breakfast for her: warm croissants from the local bakery, steaming coffee, and a glass of fresh orange juice. Shirine thoroughly enjoyed the meal, deeply touched by such thoughtfulness and unprompted kindness—concepts entirely absent from her home planet.
Eventually, Fred had to leave for work, though not without a hint of worry at the thought of leaving her alone. Throughout the day, he sent her thoughtful little texts to make sure everything was fine. What Fred didn't know was that Shirine—thanks to her advanced technological capabilities—had detected the small surveillance camera discreetly installed in the kitchen. She knew he was watching her during his breaks. To reassure him, she made sure to stay quietly in the apartment, keeping herself occupied in a well-behaved manner. Seeing that his Caroline was staying calmly at his place, Fred felt immense relief and couldn't wait to get home as soon as possible.
When he returned from the office, Fred was wearing a broad smile.
"We're going out tonight," he announced. "Dinner and a movie. What do you say?"
Shirine happily agreed. It was a magnificent evening. Seated across from him in a cozy little bistro, she felt literally undressed by Fred’s gaze—not with vulgar desire, but with a look filled with infinite admiration and love. He couldn't stop gazing at her, hanging on her every word. For the first time, Shirine felt fully and sincerely loved for the person she was projecting herself to be.
On the way home, as they walked side by side beneath the city streetlights, Shirine turned to him.
"Thank you for everything, Fred. Truly."
With a natural movement, she slipped her hand into his. Fred thrilled with happiness. He squeezed her fingers tightly, stopped beneath the golden glow of a streetlight, and looked her straight in the eyes.
"I love you, Caroline."
Shirine felt as though she might melt right there. At that precise moment, the barrier of her mission crumbled. Driven by a purely human instinct, feeling that truth vibrate deep within her very being, she answered him in a whisper that came straight from the heart:
"I love you too, Fred."
Chapiter 19
The fusion of souls
The days that followed unfolded with an almost unreal gentleness. Fred and Shirine became inseparable, relearning how to grow close to one another, attuned to the shared heartbeat of their life together. Sometimes, Shirine would meet him right after he finished work at the telecom company. They would escape the city bustle to stroll for hours along the quiet paths of a nearby park, walking hand in hand in the cool shade of the trees.
When they shopped for dinner together, Shirine realized just how well Fred knew Caroline. He anticipated her every wish, picking out her favorite dishes and remembering her specific culinary tastes and shopping habits. To avoid any slip-ups, the creature relied heavily on her analytical skills. She had noted every one of Caroline’s verbal quirks, the exact intonation of her voice, and the fluidity of her movements. She could now mimic her so perfectly that Fred had not the slightest doubt: as far as he was concerned, his Caroline had truly returned, transformed by a newfound desire for redemption.
Throughout this period, Shirine continued to sleep in the master bedroom. True to his principles and careful not to rush the woman he believed was rebuilding her life, Fred scrupulously respected her privacy. He never made a move on her, contenting himself with listening to her talk for hours, fascinated by the new depth radiating from his partner.
Then, one evening, Shirine decided to take matters into her own hands. She waited until Fred was settled into bed in the spare room before joining him in the dark. She slipped silently into the room and whispered, her voice trembling, that she had just had a terrible nightmare, haunted by the ghosts of her past as a delinquent. — Please, Chouchou... Can I sleep next to you just for tonight? I need to feel protected... Intimidated yet deeply moved by her vulnerability, Fred immediately agreed and made room for her. Shirine snuggled against his broad chest, wrapping herself in his warmth. Fred placed a protective arm around her shoulders, content at first to simply hold her close and watch over her in the silence of the night.
After a long spell of absolute quiet, Shirine lifted her head and fixed her shapeshifter’s gaze directly into his eyes. At such close range, she instantly picked up the engineer’s biological signals: his heart rate spiked, and his arousal surged rapidly. In the dim light, she saw Fred blush, clearly embarrassed at being betrayed by his own senses.
Shirine let out a soft, gentle laugh, devoid of any mockery.
"It’s flattering, you know... and completely understandable," she whispered in his ear.
She vividly recalled the confessions she had read in his private journal, where Fred had admitted just how powerfully drawn he was to her. Without giving him time to apologize, Shirine pressed her lips to his. She kissed him with all the strength, ardor, and genuine love she now felt for him. Fred returned the kiss, casting aside his last reservations to surrender to a passion he had thought lost forever.
Their physical union was of unparalleled intensity. Unlike previous attempts, this was no mere carnal fantasy or stolen kiss; it was a total merging, driven by authentic, shared love. Shirine felt every ounce of Fred’s tenderness and devotion toward her.
In the midst of that embrace, while controlling her own biology down to the last detail, the creature activated the hybridization protocol. She allowed fertilization to take place within her highly adaptive stem cells. With a simple mental impulse, she defined and shaped the embryo's genetic profile: it would be a boy, a strong sire destined to ensure the future and continuity of her people.
They made love three times that memorable night. At dawn, Fred finally fell asleep, a broad smile playing on his lips. Shirine lay awake beside him, savoring her victory yet feeling a deeply human happiness. Quietly, she placed her hand on her still-flat belly. Inside, life had just awakened. The child of their love had been conceived. Her most crucial mission was accomplished, and Fred was still unaware that he was about to become a father.
When they shopped for dinner together, Shirine realized just how well Fred knew Caroline. He anticipated her every wish, picking out her favorite dishes and remembering her specific culinary tastes and shopping habits. To avoid any slip-ups, the creature relied heavily on her analytical skills. She had noted every one of Caroline’s verbal quirks, the exact intonation of her voice, and the fluidity of her movements. She could now mimic her so perfectly that Fred had not the slightest doubt: as far as he was concerned, his Caroline had truly returned, transformed by a newfound desire for redemption.
Throughout this period, Shirine continued to sleep in the master bedroom. True to his principles and careful not to rush the woman he believed was rebuilding her life, Fred scrupulously respected her privacy. He never made a move on her, contenting himself with listening to her talk for hours, fascinated by the new depth radiating from his partner.
Then, one evening, Shirine decided to take matters into her own hands. She waited until Fred was settled into bed in the spare room before joining him in the dark. She slipped silently into the room and whispered, her voice trembling, that she had just had a terrible nightmare, haunted by the ghosts of her past as a delinquent. — Please, Chouchou... Can I sleep next to you just for tonight? I need to feel protected... Intimidated yet deeply moved by her vulnerability, Fred immediately agreed and made room for her. Shirine snuggled against his broad chest, wrapping herself in his warmth. Fred placed a protective arm around her shoulders, content at first to simply hold her close and watch over her in the silence of the night.
After a long spell of absolute quiet, Shirine lifted her head and fixed her shapeshifter’s gaze directly into his eyes. At such close range, she instantly picked up the engineer’s biological signals: his heart rate spiked, and his arousal surged rapidly. In the dim light, she saw Fred blush, clearly embarrassed at being betrayed by his own senses.
Shirine let out a soft, gentle laugh, devoid of any mockery.
"It’s flattering, you know... and completely understandable," she whispered in his ear.
She vividly recalled the confessions she had read in his private journal, where Fred had admitted just how powerfully drawn he was to her. Without giving him time to apologize, Shirine pressed her lips to his. She kissed him with all the strength, ardor, and genuine love she now felt for him. Fred returned the kiss, casting aside his last reservations to surrender to a passion he had thought lost forever.
Their physical union was of unparalleled intensity. Unlike previous attempts, this was no mere carnal fantasy or stolen kiss; it was a total merging, driven by authentic, shared love. Shirine felt every ounce of Fred’s tenderness and devotion toward her.
In the midst of that embrace, while controlling her own biology down to the last detail, the creature activated the hybridization protocol. She allowed fertilization to take place within her highly adaptive stem cells. With a simple mental impulse, she defined and shaped the embryo's genetic profile: it would be a boy, a strong sire destined to ensure the future and continuity of her people.
They made love three times that memorable night. At dawn, Fred finally fell asleep, a broad smile playing on his lips. Shirine lay awake beside him, savoring her victory yet feeling a deeply human happiness. Quietly, she placed her hand on her still-flat belly. Inside, life had just awakened. The child of their love had been conceived. Her most crucial mission was accomplished, and Fred was still unaware that he was about to become a father.
Chapiter 20
The weight of duty
Nine months had passed, marked by feverish anticipation and an ever-growing bond. In the warm intimacy of their home, Shirine gave birth to a baby boy whom they named Adam. Upon seeing his son’s face, Fred was overcome with joy, his eyes glistening with happy tears. During the pregnancy, he had finally introduced "Caroline" to his parents. At first, they had been deeply apprehensive for their only son, remembering how cruelly this woman had manipulated him in the past. However, seeing Caroline transformed and sincere—and carrying their son’s child—had ultimately dispelled their doubts, fully reassuring them about the couple's future.
Shortly after Adam’s birth, swept up in this wave of family happiness, Fred began pressing her more and more to marry him. Although Shirine’s heart screamed "yes," her reason dictated a flat "no." The creature dreaded, above all else, the rigorous administrative procedures required for a civil union at the town hall; the slightest identity check risked revealing that the real Caroline was currently serving a sentence in a women's prison. To soften the blow for Fred, who dreamed of a beautiful church wedding, Shirine proposed an alternative:
"Darling, what if we entered into a PACS instead? It’s a commitment just as strong for us and for our son."
Fred, though disappointed in his romantic ideals, warmly accepted the proposal, seeing it as yet another proof of her devotion.
Their peaceful life, however, was shattered by an unexpected phone call: news that Monique—Caroline’s mother—was coming to visit. Shirine was seized by sheer panic, terrified at the thought that the real biological mother might resurface and instantly expose her charade. On the day of the meeting, seizing a moment when Fred had stepped away to fetch little Adam from his room, Shirine found herself alone in the living room with the middle-aged woman.
That was when Monique’s expression changed completely. Her gaze went blank—almost metallic."Your mission is a success, Shirine," she said, her voice devoid of any human warmth.
Shirine understood immediately. Monique was not Caroline’s mother; she was a representative of her own people—a shapeshifter named Shara who had assumed the old woman’s form to track her down after a year of silence. Shara surveyed the home with a clinical eye, clearly satisfied with the genetic outcome of the hybridization.
Seized by a deep dread at the thought of being torn away from this life, Shirine tried to negotiate:
"Shara, please... Let me stay on Earth a while longer. I need to complete Adam’s upbringing with his father present. Humans need that structure to develop optimally."
Shara seemed to hesitate, coldly analyzing the request. But Fred’s return to the room—Adam asleep in his arms—forced them to cut the conversation short. As the evening wore on, watching the couple interact, Shara noticed a disturbing change in Shirine. Upon realizing that her compatriot was already expecting a second child and witnessing the clear evidence of Shirine’s passionate feelings for Fred, the cold emissary was overcome by profound bewilderment. To her kind, love was an anomaly—a dangerous, contagious human disease.
"You’ve lost your mind, Shirine," Shara whispered to her privately before leaving. "This attachment is destroying you. I order you to prepare for an immediate return. Our people have no use for your feelings."
The pronouncement made Shirine’s blood run cold and plunged her into deep distress. Torn between her love for Fred and the fear of her people’s reprisals against her new family, she made a radical decision. The next morning, taking advantage of Fred’s absence while he was at work, she hurriedly packed a suitcase and left, taking Adam with her. She needed to be alone to think—far from Shara’s stifling presence and the gentleness of Fred, which was weakening her resolve.
Shirine rented an anonymous hotel room on the other side of the city. This sudden return to solitude, combined with the pressure of her mission, caused her temperament to turn icy once more, eroding the softness she had acquired over the past few months.
Yet, it took only a few days for Fred’s absence to become unbearable. The bond they had built—and, above all, the immense love she felt for him—had taken root too deeply within her to be simply cast aside. Moreover, she noticed that Adam was refusing to eat properly and seemed deeply sad; the baby’s usually lively gaze betrayed a painful void—the absence of his father.
Worried about the man she had left behind and unable to remain completely cut off from him, Shirine decided to quietly return to the vicinity of their former home to keep an eye on Fred from a distance and ensure he was surviving this new trauma.
Shortly after Adam’s birth, swept up in this wave of family happiness, Fred began pressing her more and more to marry him. Although Shirine’s heart screamed "yes," her reason dictated a flat "no." The creature dreaded, above all else, the rigorous administrative procedures required for a civil union at the town hall; the slightest identity check risked revealing that the real Caroline was currently serving a sentence in a women's prison. To soften the blow for Fred, who dreamed of a beautiful church wedding, Shirine proposed an alternative:
"Darling, what if we entered into a PACS instead? It’s a commitment just as strong for us and for our son."
Fred, though disappointed in his romantic ideals, warmly accepted the proposal, seeing it as yet another proof of her devotion.
Their peaceful life, however, was shattered by an unexpected phone call: news that Monique—Caroline’s mother—was coming to visit. Shirine was seized by sheer panic, terrified at the thought that the real biological mother might resurface and instantly expose her charade. On the day of the meeting, seizing a moment when Fred had stepped away to fetch little Adam from his room, Shirine found herself alone in the living room with the middle-aged woman.
That was when Monique’s expression changed completely. Her gaze went blank—almost metallic."Your mission is a success, Shirine," she said, her voice devoid of any human warmth.
Shirine understood immediately. Monique was not Caroline’s mother; she was a representative of her own people—a shapeshifter named Shara who had assumed the old woman’s form to track her down after a year of silence. Shara surveyed the home with a clinical eye, clearly satisfied with the genetic outcome of the hybridization.
Seized by a deep dread at the thought of being torn away from this life, Shirine tried to negotiate:
"Shara, please... Let me stay on Earth a while longer. I need to complete Adam’s upbringing with his father present. Humans need that structure to develop optimally."
Shara seemed to hesitate, coldly analyzing the request. But Fred’s return to the room—Adam asleep in his arms—forced them to cut the conversation short. As the evening wore on, watching the couple interact, Shara noticed a disturbing change in Shirine. Upon realizing that her compatriot was already expecting a second child and witnessing the clear evidence of Shirine’s passionate feelings for Fred, the cold emissary was overcome by profound bewilderment. To her kind, love was an anomaly—a dangerous, contagious human disease.
"You’ve lost your mind, Shirine," Shara whispered to her privately before leaving. "This attachment is destroying you. I order you to prepare for an immediate return. Our people have no use for your feelings."
The pronouncement made Shirine’s blood run cold and plunged her into deep distress. Torn between her love for Fred and the fear of her people’s reprisals against her new family, she made a radical decision. The next morning, taking advantage of Fred’s absence while he was at work, she hurriedly packed a suitcase and left, taking Adam with her. She needed to be alone to think—far from Shara’s stifling presence and the gentleness of Fred, which was weakening her resolve.
Shirine rented an anonymous hotel room on the other side of the city. This sudden return to solitude, combined with the pressure of her mission, caused her temperament to turn icy once more, eroding the softness she had acquired over the past few months.
Yet, it took only a few days for Fred’s absence to become unbearable. The bond they had built—and, above all, the immense love she felt for him—had taken root too deeply within her to be simply cast aside. Moreover, she noticed that Adam was refusing to eat properly and seemed deeply sad; the baby’s usually lively gaze betrayed a painful void—the absence of his father.
Worried about the man she had left behind and unable to remain completely cut off from him, Shirine decided to quietly return to the vicinity of their former home to keep an eye on Fred from a distance and ensure he was surviving this new trauma.
Chapiter 21
Ariadne's thread
For days, Shirine shadowed Fred, hiding behind various anonymous faces to watch his every move. She witnessed his distress, but also his formidable engineering intellect. She saw him return to the abandoned premises of Gina, the spiritualist, attempting to piece together the fragments of that mystical puzzle. More critically, she watched from afar as he met Caroline’s real mother. That encounter shattered many of Shirine’s lies, revealing to Fred that the woman sharing his life was not who he thought she was.
The creature’s panic intensified when she saw Fred trace the trail to the exact landing site of Shara’s ship. He was onto something solid. Shirine followed him at a safe distance to the remote gas station—the very place where it all began upon her arrival on Earth.
Watching the engineer through her car window, Shirine was overcome with deep concern. His haggard appearance told her he hadn't eaten or slept since she had disappeared. Her love for him overrode her caution. She decided to intervene. Slipping behind a truck, she altered her molecular structure to assume the familiar features of Samia, her office colleague.
She approached him in the station’s parking lot. Fortunately, Fred was so exhausted and consumed by his search that he didn't seem overly surprised by Samia’s strange presence in such an isolated spot. As she joined him, Shirine felt a surge of intense happiness; she had missed him terribly. She realized she could no longer run from him.
As they began to talk, Fred revealed—almost inadvertently—that he was tracking a specific GPS signal. Shirine was shocked to discover that he had secretly planted a tracker on her mobile phone. Yet she didn't hold it against him; she knew Fred had acted out of suspicion regarding the real Caroline’s murky past, not out of malice toward her. Tracing the signal, Shirine was astonished to find it leading straight to the very hotel where she and Adam had taken refuge.
When they finally arrived outside the building, Shirine—still in the guise of Samia—took the lead to ensure Fred didn't ruin everything at the front desk.
"Leave this to me, Fred. Stay here. I’ll question the manager at the desk; I should be able to get the room number and even the key."
Exhausted, Fred simply nodded. Shirine entered the lobby. Seizing a moment when no one was looking, she assumed the appearance of the hotel receptionist, who was just about to go on break. Shirine clearly recalled that the guests in the room next to hers had checked out that very morning. Disguised as the employee, she slipped the key card for that empty room into her pocket, then quickly stepped back outside to rejoin Fred, reverting to her Samia persona.
"Got it," she said, showing him the key. "Follow me."
When they pushed open the door to the next room, Fred surveyed the empty space. Seeing sheer despair wash over his weary face—realizing he thought he had arrived too late—Shirine grasped the depth of the love he felt for her. Fred swayed, on the verge of collapse, overcome by exhaustion and sorrow.
Shirine knew the only remedy that could save him in that moment was to return his partner and son to him. She decided it was time to put an end to this absurd flight and take her place by his side again.
"You really don't look well, Fred," she said in a soothing voice, noting his pallid complexion. "You haven't eaten a thing since Caroline disappeared. Stay right there—don't move. I’ll go down to the lobby and get you a snack from the vending machine. It’ll get your blood sugar back up."
She stepped into the hallway and immediately slipped into the room next door, where little Adam was waiting patiently. In an instant, Samia’s features faded away, giving way to Caroline’s face. At that precise moment, Caroline’s phone—resting on the nightstand—began to vibrate and ring. She glanced at the screen: the call was from Fred, making one last attempt to reach the woman he loved from the room next door.
Shirine didn't answer. She gently picked Adam up, held her son close, and stepped out into the hallway.
She softly pushed open the door to the room where Fred stood, his phone still pressed to his ear, his gaze fixed on nothingness. Hearing the baby’s faint whimper, the engineer spun around abruptly. Shirine stood in the doorway, wearing Caroline's appearance, her son nestled against her heart, offering the tenderest of smiles.
The creature’s panic intensified when she saw Fred trace the trail to the exact landing site of Shara’s ship. He was onto something solid. Shirine followed him at a safe distance to the remote gas station—the very place where it all began upon her arrival on Earth.
Watching the engineer through her car window, Shirine was overcome with deep concern. His haggard appearance told her he hadn't eaten or slept since she had disappeared. Her love for him overrode her caution. She decided to intervene. Slipping behind a truck, she altered her molecular structure to assume the familiar features of Samia, her office colleague.
She approached him in the station’s parking lot. Fortunately, Fred was so exhausted and consumed by his search that he didn't seem overly surprised by Samia’s strange presence in such an isolated spot. As she joined him, Shirine felt a surge of intense happiness; she had missed him terribly. She realized she could no longer run from him.
As they began to talk, Fred revealed—almost inadvertently—that he was tracking a specific GPS signal. Shirine was shocked to discover that he had secretly planted a tracker on her mobile phone. Yet she didn't hold it against him; she knew Fred had acted out of suspicion regarding the real Caroline’s murky past, not out of malice toward her. Tracing the signal, Shirine was astonished to find it leading straight to the very hotel where she and Adam had taken refuge.
When they finally arrived outside the building, Shirine—still in the guise of Samia—took the lead to ensure Fred didn't ruin everything at the front desk.
"Leave this to me, Fred. Stay here. I’ll question the manager at the desk; I should be able to get the room number and even the key."
Exhausted, Fred simply nodded. Shirine entered the lobby. Seizing a moment when no one was looking, she assumed the appearance of the hotel receptionist, who was just about to go on break. Shirine clearly recalled that the guests in the room next to hers had checked out that very morning. Disguised as the employee, she slipped the key card for that empty room into her pocket, then quickly stepped back outside to rejoin Fred, reverting to her Samia persona.
"Got it," she said, showing him the key. "Follow me."
When they pushed open the door to the next room, Fred surveyed the empty space. Seeing sheer despair wash over his weary face—realizing he thought he had arrived too late—Shirine grasped the depth of the love he felt for her. Fred swayed, on the verge of collapse, overcome by exhaustion and sorrow.
Shirine knew the only remedy that could save him in that moment was to return his partner and son to him. She decided it was time to put an end to this absurd flight and take her place by his side again.
"You really don't look well, Fred," she said in a soothing voice, noting his pallid complexion. "You haven't eaten a thing since Caroline disappeared. Stay right there—don't move. I’ll go down to the lobby and get you a snack from the vending machine. It’ll get your blood sugar back up."
She stepped into the hallway and immediately slipped into the room next door, where little Adam was waiting patiently. In an instant, Samia’s features faded away, giving way to Caroline’s face. At that precise moment, Caroline’s phone—resting on the nightstand—began to vibrate and ring. She glanced at the screen: the call was from Fred, making one last attempt to reach the woman he loved from the room next door.
Shirine didn't answer. She gently picked Adam up, held her son close, and stepped out into the hallway.
She softly pushed open the door to the room where Fred stood, his phone still pressed to his ear, his gaze fixed on nothingness. Hearing the baby’s faint whimper, the engineer spun around abruptly. Shirine stood in the doorway, wearing Caroline's appearance, her son nestled against her heart, offering the tenderest of smiles.
Chapiter 22
Revelation and the new world
Silence settled over the dim hotel room, heavy with revelations. Shirine stood before the bed, her body still taut from the strain of her confession. Opposite her, Fred sat holding little Adam firmly yet gently against his chest, as if anchoring himself to reality. Shirine had just laid out the unvarnished truth: her origins, her usurpation of Caroline’s identity, and the nature of her mission.
A natural-born geek raised on science fiction, Fred possessed an open mind that had always leaned toward the possibility of extraterrestrial life. Indeed, his first question came out with an almost childlike curiosity, devoid of anger:
"So... you really are an alien?"
Shirine nodded slowly and briefly recapped her origins.
"Yes, Fred. I am an alien—or more precisely, a hybrid—biologically adapted to mate with an Earthling and ensure my species' survival."
Fred glanced down at the baby before looking back at her.
"And your feelings for me... were they programmed from the start?"
"My mission was, yes," she explained softly. "But over time, living by your side, I developed my own personality and genuine feelings—emotions my people don't experience. My behavior was initially modeled on the Caroline you knew, but beneath that facade, I have been absolutely sincere with you ever since we began living under the same roof."
Fred gazed into Adam’s eyes. The child, possessing an Olympian calm, stared back at his father with unsettling intensity, as if he understood the gravity of their thoughts. Overcome with remorse, Shirine sank to the floor. She knelt before Fred, tears in her eyes, and whispered:
"Forgive me, Fred... Please."
Fred gently laid Adam down on the bed. He leaned toward her, cupped her face in his hands, and wiped away her tears with his thumb. For the very first time, he spoke her true name:
"Shirine..."
He looked at her with infinite tenderness.
"What is your true appearance? What do you really look like?"
Shirine slowly rose to her feet, hesitating.
"Are you sure you want to see it?"
Fred nodded, his gaze resolute.
Shirine closed her eyes. In an instant, her molecular structure shifted, releasing her original form. When she opened her eyes, she stood revealed in her true guise: a creature of ethereal beauty with porcelain skin, long hair of dazzling white, delicately pointed ears, and large, luminous, magnetic violet eyes, clad in a biomechanical suit shimmering with silver and blue hues.
Fred did not recoil. He appeared neither shocked, nor frightened, nor even surprised. He simply stood up, cupped her alien face in his hands, and kissed her. It was a kiss of absolute fervor, fueled by the same heart and passion as when she had worn the features of Caroline. Shirine closed her violet eyes, feeling at last fulfilled, accepted, and reassured.
Fred pulled back slightly to gaze at her features. A smile spread across his lips.
"You are magnificent, Shirine." She lowered her head, offering a slightly embarrassed smile."I understand your choices and your actions," Fred continued in a calm voice. "The existence of an alien race is complex to grasp, but... I am mostly surprised—and deeply touched—that you chose me. I’ve always found myself so ordinary, so unremarkable... insignificant."
Shirine placed a finger on his lips to stop him.
"You are unique, Fred. It was a mathematical certainty, but it became a certainty of the heart. I fell in love with you. These feelings I discovered on Earth—the love I have for you, as well as for Adam and our future daughter—are the most intoxicating things I have ever known."
Fred sat back down on the edge of the bed and invited Shirine—still in her true form—to sit on his lap. He held her close. They remained like that for a long time, wrapped in the silence of the room, under little Adam’s watchful gaze. Shirine could sense Fred’s mind racing.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked.
Fred then laid out the plan he had just devised:
"We’ll leave the city. We’ll settle in the countryside, in an isolated house, to raise our children. There, away from prying eyes, you can keep your original form for as long as you wish. To the outside world and society, you’ll continue to be Caroline. As for me, I’ll ask for an arrangement to work from home—at least until the children are older."
Shirine thought the plan was wonderful.
"And your people?" Fred asked. "What will become of them?"
"It doesn't matter where Adam and our daughter grow up," she replied gently. "The main thing is that we are by their side. Our race will live on through them." In principle, I was supposed to leave with Shara, but the appointed time had passed. We wouldn't hear from them again for a very long time.
Together, they returned to the room Shirine had rented. She temporarily resumed Caroline’s appearance for the journey. They settled Adam into his small travel cot, where he quickly fell asleep.
Once quiet had returned, Fred turned to her.
— Please, go back to your true form.
Shirine complied. She kissed him with infinite tenderness, then began to undress him gently. Fred let her do it, fascinated. They made love that night, and for Shirine, it was a moment of pure grace: she was finally offering her true body—without masks or lies—to the man she loved. She also noticed that Fred embraced her with even more passion and fervor than when she wore Caroline’s appearance.
A natural-born geek raised on science fiction, Fred possessed an open mind that had always leaned toward the possibility of extraterrestrial life. Indeed, his first question came out with an almost childlike curiosity, devoid of anger:
"So... you really are an alien?"
Shirine nodded slowly and briefly recapped her origins.
"Yes, Fred. I am an alien—or more precisely, a hybrid—biologically adapted to mate with an Earthling and ensure my species' survival."
Fred glanced down at the baby before looking back at her.
"And your feelings for me... were they programmed from the start?"
"My mission was, yes," she explained softly. "But over time, living by your side, I developed my own personality and genuine feelings—emotions my people don't experience. My behavior was initially modeled on the Caroline you knew, but beneath that facade, I have been absolutely sincere with you ever since we began living under the same roof."
Fred gazed into Adam’s eyes. The child, possessing an Olympian calm, stared back at his father with unsettling intensity, as if he understood the gravity of their thoughts. Overcome with remorse, Shirine sank to the floor. She knelt before Fred, tears in her eyes, and whispered:
"Forgive me, Fred... Please."
Fred gently laid Adam down on the bed. He leaned toward her, cupped her face in his hands, and wiped away her tears with his thumb. For the very first time, he spoke her true name:
"Shirine..."
He looked at her with infinite tenderness.
"What is your true appearance? What do you really look like?"
Shirine slowly rose to her feet, hesitating.
"Are you sure you want to see it?"
Fred nodded, his gaze resolute.
Shirine closed her eyes. In an instant, her molecular structure shifted, releasing her original form. When she opened her eyes, she stood revealed in her true guise: a creature of ethereal beauty with porcelain skin, long hair of dazzling white, delicately pointed ears, and large, luminous, magnetic violet eyes, clad in a biomechanical suit shimmering with silver and blue hues.
Fred did not recoil. He appeared neither shocked, nor frightened, nor even surprised. He simply stood up, cupped her alien face in his hands, and kissed her. It was a kiss of absolute fervor, fueled by the same heart and passion as when she had worn the features of Caroline. Shirine closed her violet eyes, feeling at last fulfilled, accepted, and reassured.
Fred pulled back slightly to gaze at her features. A smile spread across his lips.
"You are magnificent, Shirine." She lowered her head, offering a slightly embarrassed smile."I understand your choices and your actions," Fred continued in a calm voice. "The existence of an alien race is complex to grasp, but... I am mostly surprised—and deeply touched—that you chose me. I’ve always found myself so ordinary, so unremarkable... insignificant."
Shirine placed a finger on his lips to stop him.
"You are unique, Fred. It was a mathematical certainty, but it became a certainty of the heart. I fell in love with you. These feelings I discovered on Earth—the love I have for you, as well as for Adam and our future daughter—are the most intoxicating things I have ever known."
Fred sat back down on the edge of the bed and invited Shirine—still in her true form—to sit on his lap. He held her close. They remained like that for a long time, wrapped in the silence of the room, under little Adam’s watchful gaze. Shirine could sense Fred’s mind racing.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked.
Fred then laid out the plan he had just devised:
"We’ll leave the city. We’ll settle in the countryside, in an isolated house, to raise our children. There, away from prying eyes, you can keep your original form for as long as you wish. To the outside world and society, you’ll continue to be Caroline. As for me, I’ll ask for an arrangement to work from home—at least until the children are older."
Shirine thought the plan was wonderful.
"And your people?" Fred asked. "What will become of them?"
"It doesn't matter where Adam and our daughter grow up," she replied gently. "The main thing is that we are by their side. Our race will live on through them." In principle, I was supposed to leave with Shara, but the appointed time had passed. We wouldn't hear from them again for a very long time.
Together, they returned to the room Shirine had rented. She temporarily resumed Caroline’s appearance for the journey. They settled Adam into his small travel cot, where he quickly fell asleep.
Once quiet had returned, Fred turned to her.
— Please, go back to your true form.
Shirine complied. She kissed him with infinite tenderness, then began to undress him gently. Fred let her do it, fascinated. They made love that night, and for Shirine, it was a moment of pure grace: she was finally offering her true body—without masks or lies—to the man she loved. She also noticed that Fred embraced her with even more passion and fervor than when she wore Caroline’s appearance.
In the days that followed, Fred put his plans into action. Leveraging his skills as a telecommunications engineer, he secured a transfer to a position that allowed him to work remotely full-time, requiring only very occasional business travel.
Three months later, the small family settled into an isolated house on the edge of a small suburban town, far from any immediate neighbors. In this haven of peace, Shirine could spend most of her days in her true form—free and fulfilled. She only assumed the guise of Caroline for rare trips into town or to keep up appearances before Fred’s circle of acquaintances.
Nine months after that night of revelation, in the warmth of their new home, Shirine gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby girl—a magnificent hybrid infant with curious eyes whom she and Fred decided, quite simply, to name Eve.
Comments
Post a Comment