After completing all the portraits he’d been commissioned to paint, Naoaki left the town in haste—without even accepting payment.
The need to escape felt more urgent than any payment.
He traveled to America, relying on the kindness of a friend who helped him start over.
Though he loved painting with every fiber of his being, making a living from art proved nearly impossible.
Reluctantly, he decided to treat it as a hobby and enrolled in a college economics program while working part-time to support himself.
His new life was modest—a cheap apartment in a rough neighborhood, long hours at a menial job, and the constant struggle to make ends meet.
But at least it was his life—free from the complications that had driven him from France.
──────────
One night, as he returned home from work exhausted and drained, he noticed a figure huddled near his building.
His muscles tensed—this neighborhood wasn’t safe after dark.
Then a familiar voice called out through the darkness.
“Naoaki…”
Under the harsh glow of the streetlamp, her face came into view.
It was Sarotte.
“Why did you disappear without a word?” she said, her voice breaking as tears began to fall. “Do you really hate me that much?”
Naoaki stood frozen in shock. She was trembling—whether from cold or emotion, he couldn’t tell.
Concerned for her safety, he led her into his apartment to calm her down.
“I owe you this,” she said, pressing a check into his hand with trembling fingers. “I wanted to see you. I really did. But now that I see your face, I realize I was just bothering you. So I’ll go home now.”
She turned to leave, but Naoaki remained frozen, clutching the check.
The thought that she—who barely spoke English—had traveled all this way alone and waited for him in the dark, in this dangerous neighborhood, made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t name.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the night air outside his window.
Naoaki rushed outside to find a man fleeing the moment he appeared.
Sarotte sat on the ground, crying and clearly shaken.
When she saw Naoaki, her tears came harder.
He gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly.
To see proud, willful Sarotte reduced to tears—shaking and vulnerable like a frightened child—broke something deep within him.
──────────
Back in the safety of his apartment, they spoke more calmly as she recovered from the shock.
When Naoaki said they needed to contact her family, Sarotte revealed that she had run away.
Her family had forbidden her from seeing him again, and she had left France with barely anything.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” he asked, still shaken by how close she had come to real danger.
Still crying, yet managing a smile through her tears, she said,
“I told you—we’re the same. I knew you’d be here.”
When he looked into her deep blue-hazel eyes, he saw his own heart reflected back at him.
Despite everything—despite all his resistance—he couldn’t help it.
He fell completely and irrevocably in love with her.
──────────
Naoaki immediately moved them to a safer apartment, using money from the generous check Sarotte had brought him.
The amount shocked him, but she only grinned and said,
“The De Valois family is very wealthy. This is nothing. We have enough money to find you wherever you go.”
I’ve been completely outplayed, Naoaki thought.
But by then, he loved her too much to care.
──────────
Life became easier—and infinitely sweeter.
They lived quietly but happily, building a world that belonged only to them.
Naoaki finished his degree and found a steady job at a respectable company.
Sarotte often encouraged him to return to painting, recognizing the artist’s soul that still burned within him.
As a gesture of love, Naoaki bought her a small piano and placed it in their tiny apartment.
When she saw it, she burst into joyful tears.
One day, Sarotte told him she was pregnant.
They were both overjoyed—their happiness complete.
When their daughter was born, she inherited Sarotte’s striking eyes and golden hair.
Naoaki gave her a name that honored both parents: Nao from his own name, and Sa from Sarotte’s—Naosa.
“In Japan, it’s traditional to include a character from the parent’s name,” he explained. “My own name includes a character from my father’s. Is that acceptable to you?”
Sarotte smiled, her eyes bright with tears of happiness.
“It’s beautiful.”
Little Naosa was enchanted by her toy piano from the very beginning.
Her face would light up whenever Sarotte played, tiny hands reaching toward the keys as if trying to capture the music itself.
The three of them formed a perfect circle of love and contentment.
──────────
But just after Naosa’s third birthday, their world began to crumble.
Naosa suddenly fell ill with a mysterious sickness that left her weak and fading before their eyes.
Doctors ran countless tests but couldn’t identify the cause—much less provide a cure.
Naoaki and Sarotte could do nothing but watch helplessly as their vibrant little girl grew paler and weaker each day, clinging to life by an increasingly fragile thread.
Then one day, a letter arrived from France.
It bore the seal of the De Valois family.
The message was brief and commanding: Sarotte must return immediately—and bring her daughter with her.
Naoaki was adamantly against it.
Naosa was far too ill to travel, and he suspected the family’s motives were not purely medical.
But Sarotte had already made up her mind, driven by a desperation only a mother could understand.
The three of them returned to France—carrying their dying child back to the place where their love had begun.
──────────
© 2024 reminise. All rights reserved.