Chapter 5 A Hollow Promise

Ariane stirred, the sterile scent of the hospital pulling her from a heavy sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent light making her wince. A dull ache throbbed in her abdomen, a cruel reminder of her loss. As her vision cleared, she felt a warm pressure on her hand and turned her head to see Olivier seated by her bedside, his fingers wrapped around hers. His face was softer than she'd seen in weeks, his dark eyes shadowed with something she couldn't name-guilt, perhaps?

"You're awake," he said gently, his voice a stark contrast to the roar that had echoed in their apartment yesterday. "You've been sleeping for almost two hours. I didn't want to wake you."

Ariane blinked, her throat dry as she processed his presence. She'd expected to wake alone, Olivier's absence in her earlier hours at the hospital a confirmation of his indifference. Yet here he was, holding her hand like the man she'd married under Abidjan's stars. Her heart twisted, torn between longing and fear.

"I... I didn't expect you here," she whispered, her voice raw from crying. She pulled her hand back slightly, the motion instinctive, but his grip tightened just enough to keep her there.

Olivier's face crumpled, his shoulders sagging. "Ariane, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "This... this is my fault. The baby, our baby, I pushed you, and I'll never forgive myself for that.

I brought you a bouquet of lilies, and some fresh croissants, just the way you love them. I wanted to show you I care, even if I've failed you terribly.

I love you, you have to believe me. I've been so distant, I know, but it's not you. It's the pressure from my new position at work. I'm trying to fit in, to prove myself, and balance being a good husband. Honestly, none of these excuses the fact that I've been pushing you away. I've failed you, but I swear I'll do better."

His words hung in the air, heavy with remorse. Ariane glanced at the bedside table, where the lilies stood in a simple vase, their scent mingling with the buttery aroma of the croissants. The gesture tugged at her heart, a flicker of the Olivier she'd fallen in love with in Abidjan. Yet her grief was a raw wound, the memory of her loss too fresh, and the fear of his anger too real. Could flowers and croissants mend what he'd broken? She touched her Ivorian bangle, the etched patterns a silent comfort, and swallowed hard, her chest tight with the weight of her conflicting emotions.

"The doctor came by while you were asleep," Olivier continued, his tone shifting to something lighter, as if eager to move past the weight of his apology. "She said we can leave whenever you're awake. Let's go home, Ari. We can start over."

Ariane's breath caught, her chest tightening at the thought of returning to the Marais apartment, the gilded cage where her dreams had shattered. She sat up slowly, the hospital gown crinkling, and met his gaze. "Olivier, I'm scared," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I'm not sure I want to go home with you. I love you, I do, but I think you need space to balance everything, to decide if you still want me. I live in fear with you now. Everything I do... it disgusts you. I can't keep feeling like that."

Olivier's eyes widened, a flicker of panic crossing his face. He leaned closer, taking both her hands in his, his grip firm but not bruising this time. "No, Ariane, please," he begged, his voice thick with desperation. "Don't say that. I don't need space, I need you. I've been a monster, I know, but I can change. I'll get help, I'll take time off work, whatever it takes. You're my wife, my everything. I can't lose you. Please, come home with me. Let me make this right."

Ariane's heart ached, torn between the man she'd once loved and the danger he'd become. His words were a siren song, pulling at the part of her that still longed for the fairy tale they'd promised each other in Abidjan. "I don't know if I can trust this," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, her voice trembling with the weight of her doubt. Every promise he'd made in the past had crumbled under his anger, how could this be different? The hospital room felt smaller, the walls closing in as she grappled with her fear and the faint hope his words ignited. "But... I'll come home. Just... please, Olivier, don't make me regret this."

Olivier's face lit with relief, and he kissed her hand, his lips warm against her skin. "You won't," he promised, his voice fervent. "I'll prove it to you, Ari. I swear."

As he helped her out of bed, gathering her things, Ariane felt a wave of exhaustion, her body still weak from the ordeal. The hospital room's antiseptic smell clung to her, the cold tiles chilling her bare feet as she changed into her clothes. She moved slowly, each motion a reminder of the pain she'd endured, her heart heavy with grief and uncertainty. Olivier hovered nearby, his presence both comforting and unsettling, a paradox she couldn't untangle.

"I ordered your favourite soup from that African restaurant you love, Le Petit Dakar in the 4th arrondissement," Olivier said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I thought we could stop by on the way home to pick it up for dinner. Something warm, something to remind you of home, to make tonight a little easier."

Ariane's stomach churned with unease as she slipped into her shoes, the hospital air cold against her skin. She clutched her bangle, longing for her mother's embrace and her sister's laughter, wishing her family was by her side to comfort her. She'd chosen to go back with Olivier, but the fear in her heart whispered that this promise might be as hollow as the city of lights outside her window.