The plane had stopped vibrating, and the ensuing silence felt almost suffocating. Victor and Maëlle slowly descended the jet bridge, each step taking them further away from their familiar world. The airport tarmac, deserted and scorching under the relentless sun, welcomed them like a foreign land. The warm air, laden with fine dust, enveloped them instantly, a striking contrast to the coolness of the airport’s air conditioning. The heat was not just a physical sensation; it seemed to penetrate their bones, numbing them under the weight of the impending adaptation.The landscape unfolding before them was a blend of modernity and tradition, yet every detail seemed deeply rooted in a reality different from what they had known. The airport buildings, sleek and modern, quickly gave way to a more rugged and authentic scenery. The sky, a brilliant and uninterrupted blue, was a stark contrast to the thick, gray clouds of Paris. Here, the sky seemed almost tangible, an endless canvas stretching beyond the horizon, bordered only by the distant mountains that emerged as dark silhouettes against the bright sunlight.
A convoy of black cars awaited them, each immaculate, with tinted windows reflecting the sun’s rays. The vehicles moved like shifting shadows, their shiny finish and angular shapes contrasting with the softness of the surrounding sand dunes. A driver in traditional attire stepped forward to open the door of one of the luxurious SUVs, an imposing vehicle that would become their mobile cocoon through this arid world.
Victor, with his usual reserved demeanor, entered first, his movements precise and calculated, as if he were measuring each step against the responsibilities weighing on his shoulders. Maëlle followed him, her thoughts still troubled by the last moments spent in Paris, by the heart-wrenching goodbyes and cherished memories she was leaving behind. Ely and Summer, their loyal dogs, were carefully placed in a vehicle specially adapted for them, their comfort being a priority for Maëlle. She knew that the transition would be difficult for them as well, and providing them with a secure space was a small comfort in this new and unfamiliar world.
The vehicle started smoothly, and the journey began. Through the tinted window, Maëlle watched the landscape slowly transform. The wide, straight road seemed to disappear into the vastness of the desert, its lines blending with those of the distant dunes. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see, its vast golden expanses undulating like waves frozen in time. The dunes, sculpted by the wind into hypnotic shapes, appeared to move under the sun, casting shadows and reflections that danced across the sandy surface.
The sky, a brilliant blue, stretched endlessly, a cloudless celestial ocean. Each gentle breeze lifted small whirlwinds of sand that danced around the vehicles like fleeting ghosts. Maëlle was entranced by the raw and relentless beauty of the desert. She felt that each grain of sand carried ancient stories, secrets buried under centuries of silence. The intense heat, although oppressive, was also fascinating in its purity. It was a landscape both magnificent and intimidating, a backdrop that seemed almost unreal.
Victor, sitting beside her, gazed at the horizon with focused intensity. The mountains, barely visible in the distance, stood out with geometric precision against the sky. They seemed immutable, like sentinels watching over the vast plains. Victor took a deep breath, trying to embrace all the grandeur of this place. "It's incredible, isn't it?" he murmured. "Everything is so different from what we know."
Maëlle nodded silently. She was too absorbed by the magnitude of the change to respond coherently. Her thoughts drifted between the land she had left behind, with its green fields and familiar scents, and the arid world unfolding before her. Every detail of this new environment was novel; every sensation was a brutal contrast to her past.
The drive to the palace lasted several hours, during which the landscape continued to unfold, revealing the region's diversity. They passed picturesque villages where time seemed to have stopped. The traditional houses, made of stone and adobe, blended harmoniously with their surroundings. The villagers, dressed in colorful traditional clothing, moved with a tranquil fluidity, performing their daily tasks in a sort of dance rhythmically synchronized with the heat and sand.
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Between our hands
RomanceEnglish version* This story tells of Maëlle and her family's disrupted fate when an unexpected revelation changes their lives. In a peaceful daily life, marked by farm tasks and family bonds, Maëlle discovers that her family is connected to an influ...