The contact under the table in the library had left Élisa in shock. The line between what was allowed and what was forbidden had blurred, leaving her in an abyssal confusion. Adrien hadn't approached her that way since, but his memory burned beneath her skin, and his gaze had become an invisible thread constantly connecting them. Each time she crossed paths with him, the tension was palpable, the library having transformed into a silent battlefield where an unacknowledged desire bound them.
One afternoon, while tidying old family albums her mother had sent her from France, Élisa stumbled upon a yellowed snapshot, tucked between two pages of one of Clara's books. Her heart stopped. In the photo, Clara was laughing, radiant, her arms wrapped around Adrien's neck. Her lips pressed against his. It was a kiss. Their kiss. Élisa's breath caught. So it was true. Their relationship had gone beyond friendship, far beyond. A bitter, unexpected pang of jealousy twisted her insides.
But looking closer, a detail struck her. Adrien. His body was stiff, his hands slightly raised, as if he was about to push her away. His expression was a mix of surprise and... reluctance? Why? If Clara was kissing him with such fervor, why did Adrien seem to push her away, however subtly? The scene didn't match the passionate descriptions in the journal. The puzzle grew more complex, and Adrien's face, so unreadable, became an even greater enigma.
She searched for him, finding him at dusk on the university's rooftop terrace, from where the city lights began to twinkle under Casablanca's changing sky. She held the photo in her hand, her heart pounding. "What does this mean?" she asked, her voice trembling, holding up the picture like an accusation.
Adrien slowly turned. His gaze fell on the photo, and a shadow crossed his face. His usual mask of coldness returned. "You're looking for answers where there are none," he said, his voice empty.
Frustration, confusion, and that strange suppressed attraction exploded within Élisa. "Stop! Stop playing with me! Tell me the truth! Who was she to you?!" She took a step towards him, her eyes shining with tears of rage and despair. His refusal to answer, that apparent indifference, drove her mad. Adrien reacted instantly. In a swift, violent motion, he pinned her against the rough wall of the rooftop terrace, his hands on either side of her head, trapping her. The shock stole her breath. He fixed her with his gaze, his dark eyes burning into hers, an animal intensity that chilled her blood and excited her at the same time. His proximity was overwhelming, the tension suffocating. She felt the weight of his body against hers, the contained rage emanating from him. "You want the truth, Élisa?" His voice was a raw, dangerous whisper, close to her ear. "The naked truth?" His gaze grew sharper, almost wild. "I could break you," he breathed, a finger tracing the line of her jaw with deceptive softness. "Or worship you." The dilemma was there, brutal, a proposition she understood without truly comprehending.