Their tête-à-tête had eventually borne fruit, more than Fathim could have imagined. Axel was her half-brother. She could hardly believe it. But ultimately, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Now, all she had to do was convince Michel to cooperate with "the enemy."
Back home, she checked on the children. They were fast asleep. She gazed at them for a long moment. How beautiful they were! Under different circumstances, she would gladly admit her best friend was lucky. However, perhaps it was better this way. Especially now, with the father's identity confirmed. Genetics never lie.
They had her brother's features. The little one had the same gray eyes as their father, while the boy had their mother's. And she was their aunt. This story would soon come to an end. Patrick Wilbert would be nothing but a distant memory, thrown into oblivion. They would be reunited, stronger than ever. She was convinced of it. Hope shone in her heart.
Lost in her thoughts, Fathim didn't notice her roommate, who had been watching her from the doorway for a while.
"What are you thinking about?" he remarked, making her jump.
"Oh! Sorry, I didn't realize you were there!" she replied, cheeks flushed.
"So?" he insisted.
"Well, nothing special! I was just thinking about what's to come! Speaking of which, I have something to tell you."
They left the room, making sure to close the door, and headed to the living room.
"I've found the key piece of our investigation!" she started
"Really?" Michel was excited, although he didn't show it.
"But before I tell you, promise me to approach this matter rationally and listen to me until the end!"
She was genuinely concerned about his reaction.
He nodded, perplexed.
The young woman sighed and began to explain her recent discoveries and what she had undertaken to do. He flinched but, true to himself, remained impassive.
"This goes far beyond simple revenge or a thirst for power. Our respective parents were colleagues. This Jacob Kennedy whom Patrick Wilbert destroyed everything ... That's my mother's version of the story. And she also revealed to me that I have a half-brother, Wilbert's son, you see, the father of the twins..."
Michel felt his blood boil. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The tormentor of his best friend was, in fact, the half-brother of this woman in whom he trusted. Now, she spoke of him so casually.
"... I decided to meet him this morning."
She mentioned every detail of their conversation to him.
"As perceptive as he is, I knew he had already discovered things about his father. I laid out the information that belonged to us, and he finally agreed to ally with us. He is our key player. He holds more information than us and, even though it pains me to admit it, more power. With the three of us, it's easier to stop Wilbert."
That was the last straw. Michel exploded.
"How, how could you do this behind my back? You know he's the cause of her suffering! Damn it, and you want us to cooperate? With a murderer? Brother or not, I'll never let him get away with it, he'll pay for his actions!"
Fathim was taken aback. She expected him to be angry or upset, but not to explode in anger. He, who was usually calm and composed, had just lost his temper. She could only understand him. In his place, she would have reacted the same way. The most important thing was to let him calm down and think things through.
"You're right, and I haven't forgiven him for that, but we really need him; that's why I warned you from the beginning. For now, I'll leave you to it. I hope you can reflect on what I've just said."
Then she turned away and left.
***
The night had fallen long ago, but Michel had not yet returned, which began to worry the young woman. She paced back and forth, glancing at the clock from time to time. Eleven o'clock, eleven-thirty, midnight. She had called him several times but always reached his voicemail. What if something had happened to him? She had no idea where he could be.
"His office!" a light bulb suddenly lit up in her head.
She called his work phone, only to reach the sleepy voice of his secretary. The call had been automatically forwarded to him, as he was not answering his phone. She quickly apologized for disturbing him at such a late hour before hanging up.
Anxiously, she could only pray to the heavens for his safety. Sleep eventually numbed her, despite her struggle to stay awake. She was later awakened by a noise. Fathim sat up, realizing she had dozed off. The lights were off, although she could not remember turning off the one in the room where she was.
On guard, her first instinct was to check on the twins' room. To her surprise, she saw the young man standing by the crib, gazing up at the clear sky on this full moon night. He had heard her come in, but he did not flinch.
Thinking he was drunk, she approached stealthily. It was only when she was near him that she realized she was wrong. He did not smell of alcohol. He was tall! The moonlight made each of his features more irresistible. Yet, he had his back to her.
"Planning on staring at me for long?"
His voice made her jump.
"Uh, I, um..." She did not know what to say, embarrassed.
He turned to face her. They were close, very close, closer than she would have liked. At least the darkness could hide her blush, but he still noticed that she was avoiding his gaze.
Michel remembered the night he had kissed her. He often maintained a certain lucidity when he was drunk, and that night had been no exception. Yet, he had wanted to forget that moment. It had happened accidentally, on impulse, as a way of trying to push away his feelings for Arele. But he could not.
Gradually, her image had replaced Arele's in his mind—her voice, scent, presence. He did not want to accept it. Arele had always been the only woman who had a place in his heart. She was and would remain the person he loved. Well, she was the one he was supposed to love.
However, since he learned she was pregnant, that love had started to fade. Although he did not want to admit it, it was not just simple jealousy; he knew she would never be his again. It took him a while to accept it.
Nevertheless, she would always be his friend, his sister. And then there was this woman, Fathim Mahed. She had an effect on him, he could not deny it. She was his opposite in many ways, yet she could read him like an open book. And living under the same roof only complicated things further.
After much reflection, knowing that the man he despised was related to the young woman reassured him. Despite his anger, he was now convinced that it could have been worse. Because the root of the problem remained Wilbert. It did not matter who he had used to eliminate his target. Arele was the target, and he would have succeeded in his scheme, the cunning man that he was.
He already knew part of the story, but if they wanted to succeed, they had to gather all the pieces. Fathim had indeed managed to find the missing piece. It was a twist of fate that their parents' pasts were intertwined. What a joke of fate!
Although it recommended joining forces with a criminal, the adage still held true: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
He had trusted her judgment from the beginning, so he might as well continue until the end. For Arele. "As for feelings, we'll deal with that later!"
"I've thought about it," he finally said, "I trust you."
"What!" Fathom was afraid she hadn't understood. "Does that mean you accept?"
He didn't answer, merely offering a barely perceptible smile in the darkness. He lowered his gaze, trapping hers, while his face leaned gently towards hers. The young woman didn't move, hypnotized by this sudden change.
"You understood correctly!" he whispered.
"What, what!"...
The brunette didn't know where to put her feet. She was so relieved that she wanted to express it. But his proximity made it hard to breathe. Seized by a sudden impulse, Michel grabbed her neck and crushed his lips against hers.
Stupefied, she allowed it. His kiss was a bit aggressive but pleasant. He was kissing her like the last time. But this time, he was sober, right? So why? She was so confused that she didn't react. He eventually pulled away from her, still looking into her eyes. Understanding his mistake, he turned her head away, breaking their closeness. He covered his face, apologizing bitterly.
"Sorry! Forget it, I got a bit... Carried away!" Then he slipped away.
Fathim stood there, in a daze. Why? That was the question tormenting her mind. She sighed. In the end, she would never understand men. Although his behavior frustrated her, she decided to overlook it. She didn't want a new argument. After all, he had accepted, which was a miracle. Feelings could wait. She also left the room to go to hers.