Marinette is assigned to be Felix's secretary at the Agreste Inc. against both of their preferences. He's rude, inconsiderate, and worst of all, trying to make her quit. Not only is Marinette dealing with the stress of her boss, but she also has to...
Emilie's POV - 22 years ago - before meeting Mr. Agreste
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No matter where I am, what I do, or how great my accomplishment is, there's apart of me that feels it is all for nothing.
Wasting.
That's the only way I can describe this feeling. When I am standing in line at the grocery store. When I am on the stage at one of my performances in front of thousands of people. When I am playing board games with my friends. When I am having dinner with my mother and sister. When I am alone. Wherever I am. It follows me.
What is this disease or disorder called? It prevents me from fully enjoying myself or living in the moment. Wherever I am, I wonder if there is somewhere else I should be. This overwhelming urgency to be great and do something amazing makes me feel small - it makes everything in my life seem worthless. Until I achieve that "big" thing (whatever it is) everything is for nothing. All is a waste.
There is so much more in me. Is it that I'm not living up to my fullest potential? Am I missing out on the fame? Does my stage need to be bigger? Do I need to be playing in front of more people? What will give me peace?
Where is that place? The place I feel I am meant to be. The place I no longer wonder. The place I no longer waste. How do I get there? Before I run out of time.
But wait. I don't have time. I'll never get there. My life is already a waste and it's barely just begun.
"Emilie," a unfamiliar male voice said, snapping me out of my darker thoughts and back to the miserable present - the doctor's office.
I'd been waiting for the past fifteen minutes, staring at these creepy diagrams of organs in the human body pinned on the blindingly white walls. Now I was face-to-face with vibrant green eyes, hair as black as coal, and cotton skin.
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"Dr. Moulin is out for a family emergency. I'll be covering for him as his PA," the man said, sitting at a red swiveled chair and logging onto a computer.
"And you are?" I questioned, swinging my legs from the check-up bed.
"Dr. Decente. You can call me Adrien if you'd like," he said as his long fingers typed, most likely pulling up all my private information.
I crossed my legs and arms, feeling a rush of blush shoot through my face. I didn't want him to learn all my secrets.
"I refuse to be seen by anyone other than Dr. Moulin. So, I'll be leaving," I said, attempting to stand.
One soft look from him caused my body to freeze. He offered me a kind smile that caused the corners of his oval eyes to squint. It felt as if a sack of powder had tipped over in my stomach. Strange.
"Ms. Emilie, from my understanding you need your evaluation weekly. So, there's no need to be embarrassed. Please remove your wig," He said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, my eyes landing on the fellow skeleton in the corner.
