Emile felt like a walking corpse.
But she wasn't dead.
She was alive.
Unlike her husband, Gabriel.
Her highschool sweetheart, Gabriel.
The kid who sat in the back of the class, doodling instead of taking notes. His first fashion designs. He had the cutest smile, always so flustered, head over heels in love with her. Hair shaggy and uncombed, simple beige sweater and jeans.
She missed that Gabriel.
Once they left high school, once they got hitched, once they moved to Paris, that was when his career took off. She remembered when they had Adrien, how happy he had been. She remembered the late nights in the office, Gabriel drinking his sixth espresso while Emile and Adrien dozed on the couch. She remembered how stressed he had been.
But mostly, she remembered how he had drifted away.
His love, usually warm like the summer sun, was gone. He had become devoid of emotion.
Thank goodness Nathalie had been by her side all the time.
Nathalie.
Emile lifted her head, tears dripping off her rounded nose and streaming down her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror, golden hair uncombed and messy, face red and blotchy.
She would take a shower, freshen up some.
Then, she would find Nathalie.