The road to the Red Ruby Palace was anything but short—four hours of driving through the French countryside, along winding paths that curled around green hills and wide fields shimmering under the moonlight like an emerald sea.
The car glided quietly through the night, the dim interior lights reflecting softly on Bella's face as she leaned her head against the window. Her eyes took in the scenery with a blend of calm and nostalgia.
The sky was a rare celestial canvas—clear, studded with stars so bright it almost made one forget they were still on Earth.
Sometimes the road dipped into a small slope, revealing a valley dotted with scattered house lights, glowing like distant campfires in a sleeping world.
Bella murmured to herself in a low voice:
"Nothing has changed… same road, same scent… even the air feels different here… Well, it's strange that I'm speaking like this."
Amory turned toward her.
"You look like you're remembering something."
She gave a faint smile, pointing to the right outside the window.
"Over there… that open plain. There used to be a dirt field. My older cousins and I would play football there. I remember how I was always the goalkeeper because they never trusted me to attack."
She let out a soft laugh, the memory vivid as if it just happened.
"I'd come home covered in dust from head to toe, and my mother would yell the entire way before I even reached her."
Amory smiled silently, looking at her as though he were seeing the child she once was—a warm blend of fondness and nostalgia filling the car.
A few quiet minutes passed, broken only by the steady hum of the engine.
As they drew closer, the scenery shifted—hills grew taller, roads narrowed—until the palace finally appeared between the trees.
The Red Ruby Palace was exactly as people described it:
A piece of history perched atop a high cliff overlooking the forest.
Its red stone walls reflected the glow of golden lanterns lining the entrance, and its tall illuminated windows revealed the subtle movement of guests inside.
The atmosphere was grand but not loud—soft classical music, refined voices drifting from the hall, and the scent of winter flowers filling the walkway.
The car stopped at the marble staircase. A guard opened the door with a respectful bow.
Bella stepped out first, adjusting the gold buttons on her jacket. Amory followed, steady and composed, straightening his formal suit.
Bella lifted her gaze to the palace, eyes full of memories.
"How I've missed this place… even with all its stories."
Amory replied with a slight smile:
"I have a feeling tonight will be a long night."
She smiled confidently, then walked toward the grand entrance where high-ranking palace staff greeted them warmly.
The massive doors opened quietly, and the welcoming music swelled as they stepped into the magnificent main hall—the beginning of a family evening that promised far more than it appeared.
---
Bella and Amory entered the palace, and the calm inside was deeper than anything they'd grown used to outside.
Dim lights in shades of warm gold-brown and rose-red lined the corridor, casting a soft glow on their faces. It reflected gently off the walls, decorated in gradients from deep crimson to pale red, making the place feel as if it embraced them in quiet warmth.
The glossy garnet-red marble floors captured the light in a soft sheen, giving the feeling that the palace itself breathed slowly, welcoming their return after a long absence.
At a large three-way intersection stood the head butler, Serge de Lafayette, a man in his early sixties. His dark formal suit was impeccably pressed, his expression calm yet deep. His polite, practiced smile offered both trust and ease. Despite his age, his eyes were sharp and intelligent, revealing an intimate knowledge of everything that happened in the palace.
Serge approached them with composed steps and bowed respectfully to Bella. His voice warm and full of reverence:
"Good evening, my lady… and Mr. Amory. It is a pleasure to see you both again after such a long time. The palace has not been the same without you."
Bella raised her head with a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering with nostalgia.
"Serge… I missed this place. Everything looks just the same… even the scent of wood and roses. But tell me—did you change the furniture again like every year?"
Serge nodded with understanding, studying her features calmly before speaking in sincere tones:
"Yes, my lady, but not as much as in previous years. The palace has been quiet during your absence. Everyone noticed it. Even the servants spoke of you from time to time. Now, everything awaits your return, and none of the small details you're used to—and will grow used to again—have been lost."
They walked behind Serge at a steady pace as he pointed out the luxurious corners that differed from before: meticulously crafted furniture, long stretches of ornate carpet, elegantly arranged art pieces—each detail a testament to sophistication and heritage.
At another branching corridor of two paths, Serge stopped, his expression soft with warmth.
He looked at Bella with a kind smile and said:
"Here the corridor divides, my lady. The family reception room awaits you—your family elders are inside. As for Mr. Amory… I shall guide you to another location. This part of the evening is reserved for the family's senior members and the young lady."
Amory exhaled, annoyed but understanding. He followed Serge.
Bella glanced back at him, eyes glinting with subtle mischief. She waved lightly.
He returned a quick, sharp smile—holding a hint of jealousy and mild irritation—but composed himself as he walked with Serge, keeping his posture dignified. Still, the faint smile in his eyes refused to disappear.
Bella stood still for a moment at the intersection, breathing in the familiar scent of the place. She took in every detail—the tall red doors gilded with gold, the red walls adorned with gold accents, the hanging lanterns, even the meticulous blend of wood and floral fragrance.
Then she stepped toward the family reception room, her eyes full of anticipation, her lips moving faintly as she whispered to herself:
"It won't be like before, but… this place always feels like home."
It was the beginning of a quiet evening—one heavy with memories, old affection, complex family dynamics, and everything that would eventually unfold in the hours ahead.
---
Bella approached the family reception room, taking a deep breath before placing her hand on the large door handle adorned with gold and ancient engravings.
A few seconds of silence passed, then she slowly opened the door, revealing the spacious hall with its dazzling aristocratic design: the walls decorated in shades of rich red with fine golden accents, gentle touches of white highlighting the details; the lighting was warm, tinged with rosy red, slipping across the luxurious furniture and the carefully stretched carpets, every corner reflecting the refinement of the place and the strictness of the family.
The family stood assembled in the hall. Grandmother Camilla occupied a prominent place, her eyes sparkling with life despite her age, a warm smile drawn over her deep wrinkles as she awaited her granddaughter's return. Around her, the five children stood, each in their characteristic stance:
Étienne Leclair, in his dark formal uniform, stood near the table with unshakable posture, observing with rigid precision, as though evaluating Bella's every movement. His gaze carried a mixture of sternness and respect.
Geneviève Leclair, impeccably elegant in a classic dark dress, her eyes gleaming with subtle criticism, though beneath it lay a buried longing she tried to keep restrained.
Bastien Leclair, quiet as usual, tilted his head slightly in thought. His eyes followed Bella with a faint tenderness, as though trying to decipher every shift in her expression.
Claire Leclair, Bella's mother, nearly overflowing with tears. She struggled to maintain composure, her hands trembling slightly, yet she still stepped forward quickly to greet her daughter.
Gaspard Leclair, smiling with his usual humor, raised an eyebrow lightly as he observed the scene with ease, wanting to be present, comforting, with a touch of playfulness in his gaze.
Bella advanced with calm, steady steps, a soft smile on her face and a tender look for each one of them. She began by greeting Grandmother Camilla, bowing politely before placing her hand atop the elder woman's, kissing it gently, then embracing her with deep affection.
Camilla whispered in a slightly trembling voice:
"I missed you so much, my little one…"
Then Bella moved toward Étienne, the eldest son, kissing his formal hand with respect before hugging him lightly. Étienne smiled with controlled stiffness, inclining his head in approval as he tried to maintain his stern facade.
Next, Bella approached Geneviève, kissed her hand as well, then embraced her. She noticed the familiar glint of moderated criticism in Geneviève's eyes, yet it did nothing to diminish the warmth that lingered there.
Claire, Bella's mother, was barely containing herself. The moment Bella neared her, she rushed forward, tears threatening to spill, and embraced her tightly—as if trying to compensate for the long months of absence. She whispered:
"You were gone for so long… I couldn't wait any longer…"
Bella exhaled, her eyes shimmering with remorse and longing, and said:
"Mother… I'm sorry for the delay… Amory and I… there were things we simply couldn't postpone."
Claire smiled gently, trying to conceal her tension:
"I know, my dear… but you shouldn't be late like this… In any case, I'm just happy you're both here now."
Bella then approached Bastien, the third brother, kissed his hand calmly and hugged him briefly. A soft smile lit his eyes in return. It was a quiet, pleasant moment filled with concealed affection and respect.
Finally, she reached Gaspard, who dipped slightly in a playful bow. She smiled, kissed his hand, then hugged him with shared warmth. A small laugh escaped him, as though this reunion had restored a piece of his childhood.
As Bella moved between them all, she felt a deep rush of warmth and nostalgia swelling in her chest—every glance, every smile, every touch… memories and loyalty binding past to present, easing that persistent sense of distance she carried from being away from home and family.
Claire then took a deep breath and said softly:
"But I still have to scold you a little… arriving late to the family gathering isn't something you or Amory used to do…"
Bella smiled, her eyes sincere and apologetic:
"I know… we were delayed for many reasons… You're right, time matters… But we're here now, and that's what truly counts."
The family smiled back at her, and every exchanged look carried warmth. The hall regained its vibrant familial spirit after a long absence.
After a few moments of greetings and gentle reproach, Grandmother Camilla Leclair slowly rose from her seat, leaning on her ivory-and-gold cane. She lifted her head with aristocratic dignity and said in a warm tone that nonetheless carried the weight of a family decree:
"Now that everyone is finally here, we can begin the evening. Dinner means nothing without Bella… and her controversial groom, Amory."
Gaspard let out his light, familiar laugh and teased:
"Controversial? Mother, I think you mean the second most talked-about person in the family—right after you!"
A wave of soft laughter spread through the hall just as Amory appeared at the entrance, walking with unhurried steps, dressed in an elegant black suit and a deep wine-colored tie.
He raised an eyebrow theatrically as he approached, then bowed respectfully before the grandmother and said, his voice polished with a hint of playful sarcasm:
"My apologies, Madame Leclair, for the delay… It seems all of Paris conspired against us today."
Grandmother Camilla smiled, her voice blending firmness with fond amusement:
"You still speak as if you're standing on a stage, Amory… but very well. We've missed your slightly annoying voice."
Amory stepped closer to Bella and leaned in, murmuring near her ear in a theatrical whisper:
"Even your grandmother acknowledges my charm… This is a historic victory."
Bella smiled faintly and shook her head as she whispered back:
"Just try not to cause chaos during dinner this time, please."
Everyone moved toward the wide dining hall, where the long table stretched out like a glittering work of art. Candles lit the crystal glasses with a magical glow, and the plates of luxurious French dishes filled the space with warm colors and delicious aromas.
The atmosphere was a unique blend of family formality and human warmth — overlapping conversations, muted laughter, and tender glances through which Camilla relived years of grandeur and legacy.
Bella leaned toward her mother, Claire, whispering in a soft, childlike tone:
"Mom… where are my father and the others? Even my cousins — I haven't seen any of them since I entered the estate."
Before Claire could answer, Geneviève spoke in a composed aristocratic tone, firm yet polite:
"No one expected you to arrive at this hour, dear, so everyone scattered throughout the manor. As for the grandchildren… they're in the back garden, as usual — arguing about something pointless. It's a bit loud out there. I'll have one of the staff call them."
A sincere smile spread over Bella's face, lit with a gentle happiness and nostalgia.
She laughed lightly and said with childlike excitement:
"Really? Great! I thought they had already left!"
Then she gracefully rose from her seat and said playfully:
"Excuse me, but I can't sit here while they're outside! I need to reach them before Amory starts monopolizing them with his stories — and don't worry, Auntie, I'll go call them myself!"
Gaspard burst into loud laughter, waving his hand:
"Run before he starts a new drama, Bella!"
In the same moment, Bella began running, leaving the hall with quick but elegant steps.
The corridors she passed through pulsed with memories: the scent of fresh roses near the southern entrance, golden light reflecting off the marble floors, and the faint echo of childhood laughter still lingering in the walls.
When she reached the large glass door leading to the back garden, she stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and smiled.
Her features carried a mix of longing, joy, and warmth — as though every moment of waiting had finally ended.
She pushed the door lightly, and it opened onto a vibrant scene:
trees swaying under the hanging lights, the old fountain whispering with flowing water, and the laughter of the grandchildren rising over the greenery.
Bella ran toward them lightly, her voice racing ahead of her with pure, spontaneous joy:
"You lunatics! Didn't you miss me?!"
All heads turned toward her — a moment of stunned silence, then an explosion of laughter and joy, as though the entire garden had come back to life.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
The gazebo stood in the middle of the garden like a glowing jewel amid the greenery. Its soft golden lights reflected off the transparent glass, surrounded by climbing roses and cherry trees swaying in the evening breeze.
Inside the gazebo, the cousins gathered around a large round table.
Glass cups filled with lemon–mint juice and small dishes scattered before them bore witness to the chaos of overlapping conversations and laughter.
Laurentian and Corentin were fiercely arguing about who won their earlier chess match, while Olivier took photos of them with his phone, laughing as he said:
"I swear, this picture will be displayed in the family scandal archive!"
Victor sat with his back to the stone path, reading a French newspaper while mumbling dryly:
"You're all noise. This generation has completely lost its dignity."
Marceau smiled to the side, strumming lightly on a guitar resting on his knee:
"And does dignity mean becoming like your father at thirty? Don't ruin the mood, Victor. This is a family evening, not a constitutional court."
Benoît laughed as he reached for a platter:
"Leave him be — he's trying to convince us he's mature… even though he still screams when coffee spills on his suit."
Before Victor could respond, a familiar voice filled the garden at once —
Bella's lively, radiant voice:
"You lunatics! Didn't you miss me?!"
Everyone froze for a second, then Olivier, Corentin, and Tristan rushed toward her like a storm, shouting:
"Bellaaaaa!"
She laughed loudly as she opened her arms, surrounded by them like a mother among children. Olivier hugged her so tightly she almost lost her balance.
She screamed, laughing:
"You little brat! You didn't grow up — you just got stronger!"
Corentin scoffed, ruffling her hair:
"Stronger? Don't believe him. He can barely carry his schoolbooks."
Olivier protested:
"At least I don't hide behind books to avoid gym class!"
Victor spoke from behind them in a dry, sarcastic tone:
"You two still argue like idiots, wonderful… time changes nothing."
Bella turned to him quickly, smiling mischievously:
"And you still act like a defense attorney in every moment of your life, Victor."
Everyone laughed, even the serious ones, and Bella joined the table amid exaggerated applause from Benoît, who said theatrically:
"Finally, our Hollywood star has arrived! Now… who wants an autograph on their napkin?"
Bella threw a napkin at him and replied:
"Do you still dream of becoming an actor, Benoît? Because you'd fail brilliantly!"
Marceau's laughter rose from across the table, warm and soft as he looked at her:
"You look just like the last time I saw you… only brighter."
She turned to him with a soft smile:
"And you look the same… only more tired of life."
Benoît raised his glass:
"A toast to eternal exhaustion, Marceau!"
Marceau, sarcastically:
"Do you enjoy my pain—"
Benoît suddenly tensed, acting strangely and repeating absurdly:
"Who am I… bfh… impossible… bfh… why would I say that hahaha!"
They all took their seats again as conversations overlapped.
Little Tristan sat beside Bella, asking in a shy, curious voice:
"Is it true your husband Amory wears suits even at home?"
She suppressed her laughter and answered mischievously:
"Not always… sometimes he replaces them with a silk robe and sits like an eighteenth-century poet."
The younger ones burst into laughter, while Victor raised an eyebrow:
"Oh dear, this man officially competes with us in vanity."
The laughter was so loud that a passing servant paused in fear before continuing his way, pretending not to notice.
Marceau wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and said:
"Honestly, I can picture Amory sitting there in his robe, holding a cup of tea saying: Bella, life has no flavor without drama!"
Bella shouted, laughing hard:
"I swear he actually said that last week!"
Benoît collapsed onto the table from laughter, while Laurentian held up his phone, smirking:
"I'm sending him a red velvet robe for his next birthday — he needs to live the full role."
Corentin turned to Bella and joked:
"But seriously, how do you tolerate him? If I were you, I would've hidden every mirror in the house."
Bella raised an eyebrow and replied with confident sharpness:
"First of all, he's better-looking than all of you combined. Second, arrogance is part of his dramatic charm… and I like people with confidence, not people who collapse if their hairstyle gets ruined."
She shot a pointed look at Victor. He smiled faintly while adjusting his hair with two fingers:
"Were you addressing me? Because all I heard was praise."
Olivier put a hand on his forehead, sighing dramatically:
"I swear, sometimes I think every man in the Leclair family has a mirror complex."
Marceau responded quickly while strumming random chords on his guitar:
"No, we simply appreciate beauty — especially when it's right in front of us."
He glanced at Bella with a subtle side-smile. Benoît clapped sarcastically:
"Marceau, please… this isn't Romeo and Juliet. Remember you're married."
Marceau smiled coolly.
"I didn't say anything. You're the one living in drama."
Everyone laughed at the wordplay, but Bella waved her hand dismissively:
"Enough, enough… you're always the same. Start sensible, end insane."
Victor raised his glass with exaggerated seriousness:
"This is the family's official motto: we begin with logic and end with elegant chaos."
Laurentian applauded enthusiastically.
"Beautiful! I want it printed at the palace entrance."
Tristan, the youngest, was recording secret videos of them. He laughed:
"This moment is gold! I'll send it to Amory with the caption: 'Your sweet Wifey is flipping the table in your absence.'"
Bella shouted immediately:
"No! Don't you dare, Tristan! He'll start a ten-minute monologue about how dramatically he's missed!"
Corentin imitated Amory, placing a hand on his chest:
"They laughed without me? Betrayal of the century!"
Everyone burst into laughter again, even Victor cracked a smile.
Marceau leaned back in his seat and said:
"I swear, nothing in the world matches moments like these… You all are a headache, but a headache we love."
Bella smiled softly, looking at them with calm sincerity:
"You're more chaotic than anything in my life… but without you? I couldn't survive the world for even a minute."
A brief silence settled before Benoît cut through with mischief:
"Touching speech, truly. Now… who's paying for the juice Tristan spilled on the tablecloth?"
Tristan cried out:
"I was emotional! It's the proof of my feelings!"
Laughter erupted once again, shaking the gazebo with pure chaos and joy — exactly what the Leclair family always was: a storm of love, humor, and drama bound by one spirit.
---
The laughter continued echoing from the gazebo, where no one seemed to tire of joking or recalling old stories.
But Bella drifted away from the center of the conversation.
She sat on the stone handle of the large parasol, one leg propped on the ledge, the other resting on the ground.
She watched the fountain shimmer under the moonlight.
The quiet of the evening wrapped around her like a soft shawl, the sound of water blending with her steady breathing.
She heard footsteps approaching behind her. She didn't need to turn.
With a faint smile, she said:
"I knew it was you, Alphonse. Your steps are impossible to mistake."
Alphonse stopped behind her, one hand in his pocket, his voice low but steady — that steady tone that always defined him:
"You still have that sharp musical memory you had as a kid."
She turned slowly, giving him a smile warm with a hint of playful sarcasm:
"And you still act like the guardian of everyone."
He gave a faint, barely-there smile.
"Someone has to. Otherwise this family would drown in chaos."
They fell quiet for a moment.
A cool breeze brushed her hair, and the pinkish-red glow from the gazebo lit her features softly.
Their eyes met — only for a second, but a second full of things unsaid for years.
Alphonse spoke first, surprisingly gentle as he leaned slightly forward:
"The palace missed your noise… We all looked too grown-up without you."
Bella smiled, turning her gaze back to the fountain.
"You didn't grow up. You just pretended to."
He chuckled under his breath, then said quietly, almost like a confession:
"Maybe… but not everything grows up."
She lifted an eyebrow, giving him a subtly curious look:
"Like stupidity, for example?"
He shook his head lightly, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes:
"Or like old feelings that never find the right time to die."
Bella froze for a moment.
She didn't answer — just looked at him briefly before breaking the tension with playful sarcasm:
"You're becoming a late-blooming philosopher. Marceau must be rubbing off on you."
He laughed quietly and stepped a little closer.
Then he asked:
"Didn't you notice something?"
She blinked, puzzled:
"Notice what?"
He clasped his hands behind his back — the way he always did when he was about to say something serious.
"A few years ago, we were just kids running around this place… and now, in the blink of an eye, each of us has our own world. Some are in university, some still in high school… some barely finished school."
He paused, then added with a calm tone:
"We're no longer the children who fought over chocolate bars. We've changed more than we think."
Bella went quiet…
His words were simple, but they hit something deep inside her.
She looked at the garden — a place she knew as well as the lines of her own hands.
Same trees… same lights… same scents.
But the faces had changed, the voices had changed, even the laughter had changed.
Softly, she said:
"Yes… we grew up. But in a strange way. We all ran toward life like it was a race… then came back here to realize we're still carrying our younger selves inside."
Alphonse smiled faintly, stepping just a bit closer, still standing rather than sitting.
"All true… but you're the last one who gets to say 'we grew up.' You haven't changed one bit, Bella."
She looked up at him, a sly smile forming:
"That's because I know when to run from chaos when it gets too big."
He chuckled lightly:
"You think you're clever? We all know you only run when you're afraid of getting more attached."
She froze again.
Looked at him for a long moment — a look that carried a small, unspoken truth.
Then she answered lightly, using humor as a shield:
"And you… you still like pretending you understand everyone more than you understand yourself."
He smiled — an honest, disarming smile that almost felt too sincere:
"That's because I understand you very well."
Before she could respond, Laurentian's voice boomed from the gazebo:
"ALPHOOOONSE! Stop the emotional kidnapping! We need you to break up another fight!"
Then came Corentin's voice:
"It's not a fight! Victor just decided to inform Olivier that he's taking pictures of his face from angles that are unflattering to him!"
Then Victor, in his usual cold tone:
"I stated a fact. The right side of my face is far superior to the left. Art requires taste, not visual headaches."
Bella shouted from where she stood:
"Guys! Stop before this turns into a supreme court hearing! And of course I will be the judge — who else is qualified?"
She laughed as she lowered her leg from the stone edge and stood up straight, brushing off the back of her pants as if preparing to return to the chaos.
Alphonse looked at her lightly as he walked beside her.
"This family is going to be the end of me, I swear."
She replied with a smile:
"You love it. Don't pretend otherwise."
He paused for a moment before they headed back, speaking in a tone that was serious but warm:
"Bella… I'm glad you're back. Truly."
She smiled at him — small, sincere, soft.
"And I'm glad you're all still capable of bringing this place to life."
They started walking toward the gazebo together.
But before they entered, Benoît appeared, waving his hand:
"Finally! The philosophical duo has returned! Hurry up before Victor files an official complaint about the way Corentin is sitting!"
Bella laughed, Alphonse laughed, and the two of them hurried back into the heart of the chaos that had missed them more than any of them would ever admit.
To be continued…
Okay, I've finished this chapter… finally! 🎉 Now I'm going to start writing the one-shot — basically the movie, but in a novel style, so it's all just words on top of words. Just forget about the complicated details.
See you next time… hopefully without any problems, but if there are any, let laughter be your natural reaction! 😎