Élisa's fever subsided as quickly as it had risen, leaving her weak but lucid. The night had been a whirlwind of sensations, of dreams so real that she still felt her skin tingling. Had Adrien stayed? Had he truly brushed her lips, her neck? She dared not believe it, but the doubt lingered, persistent. Clara's journal, resting beside her bed, now seemed to scream truths she didn't want to hear.
She found him later that day, sitting alone in one of the university's inner gardens, away from the student bustle. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine, but the tension between them was even denser. He watched her approach, his face unreadable, as if he had been waiting.
"You look better," he said, his voice neutral, betraying nothing of the past night. Élisa took a deep breath. "You were there last night. In my room." A slight raise of an eyebrow was his only response. His silence was more eloquent than any confession. He didn't deny it. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Adrien looked away towards the fountain, his expression darkening. "Because you're getting closer to the truth, Élisa. The truth about Clara." He fixed his gaze on her again, his dark eyes probing hers. "You think you know what happened to your sister. You're wrong. There are things... no one else knows."
Élisa's heart skipped a beat. A secret. A secret he held, he alone. A missing piece of the puzzle. Hope and terror mingled within her. "What? Tell me!"
He stood up, approaching her, closing the distance between them. His gaze was intense, with an unexpected vulnerability. "Clara confided in me, only me." His voice grew softer, intimate, almost a whisper. "She was afraid. Not of death. But of what came after."
In that moment of raw revelation, Adrien's cold facade cracked. His face betrayed a deep pain, a regret Élisa had never imagined. Overwhelmed by emotion, by this truth she felt at her fingertips, Élisa reached out, driven by an irresistible impulse, and her fingers brushed his arm. Adrien didn't flinch. Instead, he gently grasped her, pulling her close. They embraced, a moment of shared vulnerability, their bodies seeking mutual comfort in the shadow of the secret. Élisa felt his warm breath against her neck, his solid body pressed against hers, a desperate and charged embrace. Her hands slid into his hair, pulling him even closer. It was a surrender, an instant where the lines blurred between pain and desire. Then, abruptly, without a word, Adrien pushed her away. His eyes regained their usual coldness, a mask of distance falling over his face, the moment of tenderness vanished like a breath. The brutality of the rejection left her gasping, her heart heavy and her body empty. He had closed himself off, more hermetic than ever.