Morning awoke slowly over Lyon: golden light slid between the red rooftops of the Fourvière hill.
Élise walked slowly through their small apartment in the Croix-Rousse district, one hand resting on her round belly, ready to bring new life into the world. Every step felt heavy, yet she whispered gently:
— “Hold on, little one… not much longer, and we’ll finally meet.”
But Marc, her husband, didn’t even look at her.
Ever since Élise became pregnant, the man who had once been attentive and full of promises had turned into a stranger. He complained about everything: the smell in the kitchen, the noise she made at night, her shortness of breath. He treated her as if pregnancy had made her invisible.
One evening, while Élise was lovingly folding the baby’s clothes, Marc threw a sentence at her that shattered her heart:
— “Next month, you’ll give birth at your parents’ place in Annecy. Everything is too expensive here. Over there, a midwife will take care of you for a fraction of the cost. I’m not throwing my money out the window.”
Élise stared at him, tears welling in her eyes.
— “But Marc… I’m nine months pregnant. The trip is long… I could give birth on the way…”
Marc shrugged coldly.
— “That’s your problem. At least I won’t have to hear your complaints anymore.”
That night, Élise understood that the man she loved no longer existed.
Two days later, throat tight, she boarded the TGV to Annecy, holding an old suitcase in her hand.
At the station, her mother, Madame Fontaine, was waiting. When she saw how pale her daughter was, she wrapped her tightly in her arms.
— “My baby… you’re home now. Mom will take care of you.”
Meanwhile, the moment Élise left Lyon, Marc rushed to see Chloé Morel, his young assistant.
She was pregnant too… and she had told Marc with certainty that she was expecting a boy.
Marc felt like the luckiest man alive.
— “Finally, an heir!” he boasted.
He spared no expense: a private suite at the Saint-Antoine Clinic, luxury care, more than €8,000 already paid.
On the day of the birth, Marc arrived with a huge bouquet of tulips.
When the baby was born, he immediately sent a photo to every one of his WhatsApp groups:
— “My son! He looks exactly like me!”
But his joy didn’t last long.
A nurse called him in to sign some paperwork. Marc strutted toward the neonatal unit, proud as a peacock.
But when the door opened, his smile froze.
Standing there was Madame Fontaine, arms crossed, her eyes cold as ice.
— “M… Madame Fontaine? What are you doing here?” Marc stammered.
The woman calmly set a box of baby formula on the table.
— “I came to visit my son-in-law. And that boy you’re so proudly showing off.”
— “You misunderstand… Chloé is just a friend I’m helping…” Marc began, growing visibly nervous.
Madame Fontaine raised her hand, signaling for him to stop.
She took an envelope out of her purse.
— “Do you know what this is? A DNA test. I requested it as soon as the baby was born.”
She opened it slowly, savoring each second.
— “And guess what… this child is not yours, Marc. Not even a drop.”
Marc turned pale, frozen on the spot.
— “That’s impossible… Chloé told me…”
Madame Fontaine let out a short, bitter laugh.
— “You drove my daughter out because she was expecting a girl. You sent her away to save a few euros. But for this woman, you spent thousands. And what did that bring you? You’re raising another man’s child.”
She slipped the documents back into her purse and headed toward the door.
There, she turned back one last time:
— “Élise is fine. She gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. And don’t worry… she has a father. But it’s no longer you. From this day on, my daughter and my granddaughter have no need for a coward like you.”
The door closed behind her. Marc collapsed onto a chair.
A newborn cried down the hallway—
the same cry that had sounded like a miracle only hours before.
Now it felt like mockery.
A few weeks later, the clinic informed him that the bill had exceeded €12,000.
Chloé had vanished, leaving all debts in his name.
The apartment Marc had bought for her was seized.
His savings were gone.
His pride was in ruins.
Meanwhile, in Annecy, Élise slowly regained her strength.
The evening sun shimmered over the turquoise lake as Madame Fontaine watched from the terrace, her daughter gently rocking the baby in her arms.
— “See, sweetheart? Life always puts people where they belong. You received love. He… has nothing left but his mistakes.”
Élise softly kissed her baby’s forehead, a tender smile touching her lips.
A warm wind drifted down from the mountains, rustling the leaves of the apple trees in the garden.
And for the first time in a long while, Élise took a truly deep breath.