Chapter Text
Nathalie barely registered the driver calling after her as she slammed the car door. The world around her was muffled, distant, like she was underwater. Her chest was so tight it ached. Her breath came fast and shallow, her fingers ice cold.
Amelie’s house was the only thing ahead of her. Warm light spilling from its windows, a softness to it that didn’t feel real. She hadn’t planned to come. She hadn’t planned anything. She had just moved. Instinctively. Desperately.
And then, before she even reached the steps, the door opened.
Amelie.
And Nathalie ran.
Her breath hitched the second their eyes met, her legs moving on their own. And then she was wrapped in arms that smelled of jasmine tea and safety.
She broke.
The sob that tore from her chest was not quiet. It was messy, ugly, full-bodied. She clung to Amelie like she might disappear, burying her face into her shoulder, choking on the pain she had swallowed for far too long.
“I—” she gasped, “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Amelie held her tighter. “I’ve got you darling, let it all out, you’re exactly where you need to be.”
They didn’t speak as Amelie guided her inside, fingers never leaving hers. They didn’t need to. Nathalie collapsed onto the couch like something hollow, and Amelie wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders and pressed a warm mug of tea into her trembling hands.
And only then, once the weight of everything finally landed, did Nathalie begin to speak.
“The council… called me. There was a meeting.”
She didn’t look up. Her voice was low, cracked and tight.
“The first time since I died. Since everything. And the first thing my father said? ‘We need you back.’ No apology. No—‘I’m glad you’re alive.’ Just… duty. Again.”
She laughed bitterly. “He disowned me, Amelie. When I failed to get the Miraculouses. Told me I was an embarrassment. That I’d brought shame to the family. I was like nineteen.”
Amelie reached over and took her hand in both of hers, gently, carefully.
“He said I’d let emotions cloud my judgment. That I got too close to the Agrestes. That I was weak. And then Gabriel—” Her voice darkened, her eyes narrowing. “Gabriel picked up where my father left off. Made me feel like I mattered. Gave me a place in that family. But it was all the same thing. He didn’t care about me. Not really.”
Nathalie stared into the fire, eyes glazed but burning.
“And then I died,” she said flatly. “I died for him and because of him. Alone. In pain. And he brought me back not because he cared about me. Not because he was sorry. But because Adrien needed someone. And who's more competent than a loyal assistant to play glorified nanny.”
She set her tea down with shaking fingers.
“That’s all I’ve ever been, Amelie. A tool. A function. A placeholder. Someone to clean up after the wreckage these men leave behind.”
Amelie moved closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You are so much more than that Nath.”
Nathalie laughed again, harsh and hollow. “Am I? Because now I’m Adrien’s guardian and I don’t know what I’m doing. I look at him, and all I see is me.”
Her voice cracked with emotion.
“He smiles all the time. But his eyes—his eyes are like mine used to be. Hollow. Measured. Careful. Like he’s calculating how much of himself he’s allowed to show before it gets used against him.”
She clenched her fists. “He thinks Gabriel loved him. Still. After everything. And I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell him the truth or keep the illusion alive. Because I don’t know which lie hurts less.”
Amelie stayed quiet, giving her space to fall apart without judgment.
“I see the way Adrien tries to be perfect even if he no longer needs to,” Nathalie said. “The way he puts everyone else before himself. That was me. That is me. I was raised to perform. To achieve. To earn affection that never came.”
She looked up suddenly, eyes wet but fierce. “And now I’m supposed to teach him how to be something I’ve never been. To be free. To be safe. To be loved.”
She blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek.
“But what if I can’t? What if I ruin him the way they ruined me?”
“You won’t,” she whispered. “Because you already see what he needs. That’s more than they ever gave you.”
“I don’t know how to love right,” Nathalie said. “I only know loyalty. Obedience. Silence.”
“You know how to run when your heart is breaking,” Amelie said softly. “You knew to come here. You knew to feel this, instead of burying it. That is love, Nathalie. It’s messy. But it’s real.”
“I’m not enough.”
“You’re more than enough. You’ve already broken the cycle. You’re trying. That’s what love looks like.”
“I’m still so afraid,” Nathalie whispered.
“I know. And I’m here. You’re not carrying this alone anymore.”
She kissed Nathalie’s cheek, slow and soft, lingering just long enough to ground her.
“I’ve got you,” Amelie whispered again.
And for the first time, Nathalie allowed herself to believe it.