«But you'll have this place to call home, always.»
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A hospital. That was the final destination in their journey from Paris to Lyon. There was no time for any words to be exchanged between each other, because soon enough, Salma was stepping out of the car, heading straight to the entrance. He thanked the driver and grabbed the purse she'd left behind on the seat before getting out of the car and following her silhouette from the distance. The hospital doors slid open for him and that was when he could catch her at the reception. Her hands desperately moved while she asked for the information required. Pierre felt out of the loop but joined her in silence.
The woman behind the desk did not get much of a chance at replying to any of Salma's rushed inquiries because somewhere to their right another person was already calling her name. It wasn't loud as to disturb the place, but enough for the model to hear her name from a familiar voice. Her father. They turned nearly on cue, Salma already walking in the direction of the man coming her way, and Pierre staying behind glued to the desk. He watched the scene unfold before him. The way she hugged the man and he hugged her back, another girl who looked exactly like a carbon copy of Salma, except with longer hair, joined not even a minute later and awaited witness to the scene as well.
If the calculations were correct, those had to be Salma's father and sister. He looked away, feeling like he was intruding on a personal moment.
"How's Maman? And grandma? What is—what is going on?" She said breathlessly, her father holding onto her arms for support. She met Eloise's gaze from where she stood behind their dad, silently staring at a distant point.
Her father tenderly squeezed her arms. She was shaking. "Your mother is fine now. She had a transient ischemic attack?" He turned to her sister to confirm. This one focused on them and nodded. "She's stable now, and resting."
"And grandma?" Her tone broke at the end. It almost sounded like a squeak.
He breathed deeply, lips set in a thin line. "She's still in special care. We're waiting to hear any news." An awful pressure took over her chest, but she masked it with a bob of her head. "How did you make it so fast here? You look pale, sweetheart." His hand reached to caress her cheek.
Pierre. Fuck. She turned her head and they made eye contact. He seemed awkward. Her father let go of her, and she took a step back. "I...just give me a second." After a sign of silent agreement, she walked back to the driver, who straightened his posture as she came closer. "I'm sorry, I completely blanked out and didn't even thank you for bringing me here. I just ditched you in the car."
He smiled, softly, and shrugged. "That's alright, don't worry. I can tell it was urgent, there's nothing to thank me for. I wanted to ensure everything was alright, and I don't want to intrude if you feel uncomfortable with me staying...I can go."
God, she wanted to roll her eyes. Strangely with fondness. What a weird guy. "This isn't ideal but..." The hesitation ripped inside her, and she resisted the urge to peek at her father and sister to gather some courage. "Can you come with me for a second?"
"Yeah, of course." He nodded.
Her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, and he followed her steps with no problem. Her father, Salma noticed, took a glance at the way she was holding Pierre by the wrist, and she let go of him the moment they stood in front of him and Eloise. The first two seconds were stiff until she came off her own concerns and mind to go ahead with proper introductions.
In the middle of a hospital, it couldn't be written worse.
"Papa, this is Pierre, he helped me get here from Paris. He's a friend of mine." That was a new title. Friend. "Pierre, this is my dad Serge, and my sister Eloise." Her hand gestured at each of them. Her stare remained for a couple of seconds more on her sister than it was the case with her dad.
