Before Our Dawn| ongoing

thirty-five

Chapitre trente-cinq
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Later that afternoon, Isra decided to visit Marie's shop. Given the recent events, she felt like she owed it to Marie to explain her absence as well as how things had ended-permanently-between her and Colette.

She had navigated the bustling streets with care, her senses acutely attuned to the movements of German officers who prowled like vultures, searching for any semblance of resistance. Safely reaching the familiar doorway, she stepped inside, only to be met with a disheartening sight: the shop was now a scene of disarray.

Isra carefully moved through the shop, her footsteps echoing on the floor, her gaze taking in the mess. Fabric bolts were scattered, patterns lay strewn about, and the glass shards from a shattered mirror glinted ominously. The windows had been boarded up and only a miniscule amount of light slipped through the cracks.

Following a faint sound, she approached the dressing room, and there, she found Marie holding a broom in her hand.

Isra's entrance into the shop had taken Marie by surprise, an instant of wide-eyed recognition flashed between them. The broom, held loosely in Marie's trembling hand, fell to the ground with a soft clatter, and Marie threw her arms around her.

"Madam," Isra whispered, a lump forming in her throat. "What happened here?"

"Isra," she stammered, "you won't believe what's happened. The Germans came, and they took Jacques, Gabriel, Emil, and Lea. Colette, she's... she's gone. They... they just vanished, Isra."

Marie pulled out of their embrace first, her weary expression lending her the appearance of someone who had aged by decades. Silver strands of hair streaked through her once-dark locks. "I don't know how the Germans found this place. I truly don't."

Isra adjusted the strap of her handbag on her shoulder and looked down at the scuffed flats adoring her feet. "I don't... either."

She watched her restless pacing, her own guilt eating at her conscience. She knew that it was her actions that had inadvertently led to their capture, but she couldn't bring herself to confess.

"Why, Isra, why didn't we see this coming? We've been so careful! All those secret meetings, the code words, the precautions we took... It just doesn't make any sense!"

She couldn't escape the haunting images of Colette, the gun, and the chilling spread of blood on the floor. Those memories were imprinted into her mind like a dark stain.

Marie finally stopped pacing, massaging her temples. "At least you're safe. I'm glad."

"Y-Yes." She gave her a trembling smile. "I had been stopped by an officer on my way to work that morning. He demanded to look at my papers. Moments later, chaos erupted, and I saw them all being dragged out. I was just lucky."

Marie hugged her tightly, repeating her relief again and again.

Then, unexpectedly, Isra asked a question that had been weighing on her mind since the day of the arrests. "Marie, are you... a communist?"

Marie, taken aback by the sudden inquiry, nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. But why do you ask?"

She was walking a very fine line-one that would expose her if she lost her balance.

"Marie, you need to understand that communists are dangerous. Their ideology, it leads to... terrible things. You should reconsider your beliefs."

Her brows furrowed deeply, forming a crease between them, as her lips tightened into a thin, straight line. The corners of her mouth turned downwards in a fierce scowl, and her jaw clenched, causing her usually soft features to take on a hardened and unyielding aspect.