Esther's POV
My name is Esther Alex Besson, daughter of Alex Besson and Asael Besson.
How can I describe my life?
I'm a smiling, kind girl, always ready to help. People often say I have light in my eyes, that my good mood is contagious. Maybe it's true… or maybe it's just my way of making the world a little less harsh.
I hate injustice, brutality, people who use force to solve everything. With me, it's simple: if you love me, I love you. If you respect me, I respect you.
I'm currently in my final year in Computer Science and Management at NovaTech University in Paris, one of the most prestigious universities for technological fields. A huge source of pride for my dad, even though he keeps saying he would have preferred me to stay "within his line of sight."
Yeah… that's just how he is. Overprotective. Way too overprotective, if you ask me.
I'm an only child. After my birth, my mom couldn't have any more children.
Sometimes, it's great: all the attention, all the love, all the protection.
But other days… it's heavy.
The long silences.
The sad looks.
The unspoken "What if I'd had a brother or a sister…" hidden behind every sigh.
But we deal with it.
We're a family, even if we're a little broken around the edges.
My dad… he's a chapter of his own.
He's Moroccan, 43 years old, even though looking at him you'd think he came from another continent: light dark skin, brown eyes you simply can't ignore, and a smile that could melt anyone. He works in import-export, owns a major company, and is well known across the country.
I got my eyes from him… and his legendary sense of humor.
And his habit of talking fast. Very fast. So fast that one day Leila thought I was speaking another language. Laughs.
Dad spoils me a lot. Sometimes too much.
He wishes the whole world were a safe place just for me.
It's beautiful… but sometimes suffocating.
He gives me everything I want—except a little more freedom.
But I guess that's his way of loving.
My mom, on the other hand, is my balance.
My best friend.
My anchor.
She's Congolese, 37 years old, young, elegant, dark-skinned, and she moved to Morocco when she was young. That's where she met my dad—and I swear, their love story could make any romance novel blush.
She's gentle, sometimes strict, but never cruel. I see all the love she has for me in her eyes.
And I'm proud of her. She's a doctor and runs a hospital in Morocco, which means she travels a lot—but I don't mind. She's planning to open another one in her hometown, and I think that's amazing.
Then there's Mina.
Our housekeeper, 47 years old… but we consider her part of the family. She takes care of us and helps us so much.
Mina is like my second mom.
I tell her everything—absolutely everything—and she helps me deal with things even my mom wouldn't understand.
So much that it sometimes makes my mom jealous, which makes me laugh.
"Esther, stop stealing my friend!" she always says when I spend too much time with Mina.
And I laugh. And Mina laughs too.
And then… there's Leila.
My best friend since primary school, 19 years old. She's also in her final year, but in law. A future lawyer in the making. She takes her studies very seriously—she says she wants to defend the weak in this cruel world, and I support her 100%.
I will never let her go.
We've never been apart, and I've never needed other friends.
It might seem strange to some… but it works perfectly for me.
And finally…
There's Malik Belrose.
Yes, I know.
The son of my father's enemy.
Just saying his name could start a family world war.
But life doesn't care about adults' grudges—and our hearts care even less.
For a few months now, Malik and I have been seeing each other.
We get along.
We understand each other.
We respect each other.
As for the rest… our parents can deal with their issues themselves.
Their past is not our future.
That's me.
That's my life, with its lights, its shadows, and the people I love.
And lately… I've had a very strange feeling.
Like something is coming.
Something big.
Something beautiful… or dangerous.
I don't know yet.
But whatever it is, I'm ready to face it.
---
I was lying on my bed, legs in the air, a smile glued to my face while talking on the phone with Malik.
He has that gift—the ability to make me laugh even when I'm trying to stay serious.
But suddenly the door opened, and as if I'd been caught red-handed, I turned off my phone in one quick motion.
Mom and Dad walked in and sat on the edge of my bed.
I immediately moved closer to Mom and curled up in her arms. I love doing that… and she loves it when I do.
Dad, on the other hand, pretends to be offended every single time.
Dad crossed his arms, fake-pouting:
Dad: "And what about me? Don't I get a hug?"
His childish expression almost made me laugh, but Mom answered before I could, with her legendary teasing tone:
Mom: "So what? She's my daughter, and this is our moment. Don't come ruin it with your jealousy."
I burst out laughing.
My parents… when they start, they look like two kids fighting over the same candy.
Dad added dramatically:
Dad: "Me? Jealous? Why would I be? Everyone knows Esther prefers me anyway."
Mom rolled her eyes:
Mom: "Oh, shut up! I'm her mother. She loves me a thousand times more than you. End of discussion."
And there they go again… round two.
I sat up, took their hands in mine, and said softly:
Me: "Mom… Dad… I love you both. Very much. And—"
They didn't even wait for me to finish. They both pulled me into a big hug that almost crushed me.
But I loved it. I could feel their smiles against my hair.
When we pulled apart, Dad suddenly turned serious.
Dad: "Esther."
Me: "Yes, Dad?"
He let out a long sigh.
Dad: "We have to go to Palestine."
I blinked, surprised.
Me: "We do? You mean… you and Mom?"
Dad: "No. I mean all four of us."
My heart started racing. I used to travel a lot with my parents when I was little, but I don't like attention—especially from the media. They're always lurking, snooping everywhere. Since I was ten, I've avoided cameras as much as possible. I prefer staying discreet.
I wiped my smile away and asked anxiously:
Me: "Why all four of us? Are we going on vacation?"
But Mom shook her head.
Mom: "No, sweetheart. Not a vacation. A meeting. Your father is going to merge our company with another one, and they want it to happen in Palestine. To avoid… certain rumors."
She paused, studied me, then added gently:
Mom: "And… we want you to lead the meeting."
I froze.
Me?
Of course, I knew this day would come eventually. I'm my father's only heir.
He's been telling me that for years. I've even started learning about the files and management.
But now… it was real.
Me: "M–me?" I stammered.
Dad placed his warm hand on my cheek.
Dad: "Yes, my darling. You'll represent our company."
My fingers trembled.
Me: "But Dad… are you sure I'm ready? What if I make a mistake? And why a merger now? You never wanted one before."
He just smiled. The kind of smile that hides more than it reveals.
Dad: "Because this time… it's different. I'll explain everything later. For now, I just need you to trust your father. You'll do an excellent job. Because you're my daughter—and my pride."
I smiled widely. I love knowing my parents are proud of me.
Me: "So… when do we leave?"
Dad: "Tomorrow."
Me: "What?! Tomorrow?! I haven't packed, where are we staying, and—"
Mom: "Calm down. We've planned everything. And you don't need to bring your entire wardrobe," she smiled. "As for the place, we have a chalet by the beach. It's beautiful."
I was shocked.
Me: "Since when do you have a chalet? And why didn't I know about it?"
Dad: "We bought it during our travels. You're the one who doesn't like traveling with us, so don't blame us."
I didn't want to disappoint them.
Me: "Alright… I accept."
Mom gently pinched my cheek.
Mom: "I'm so proud of you. You're growing up, Esther… and you make us proud every day."
I took her hand.
Me: "Mom, you know I don't really like traveling."
Mom: "We know. That's why we planned everything."
Me: "Really?" I asked, shocked.
Dad: "Yes. We know how much our daughter hates cameras, so we made sure the paparazzi won't find out we're at the airport—and they won't discover our trip to Palestine either. Happy now?"
Instead of answering, I hugged them both tightly.
A soft hug that smelled like Mom's vanilla perfume and Dad's overly strong cologne.
I love my parents so much.
Then someone knocked. Mina walked in, a bright smile lighting up her face.
Mina: "I love seeing you like this. You're beautiful."
She pulled a chair closer and sat down.
Mina: "So, Esther… ready to take over the kingdom?"
I paused dramatically.
Me: "No. But I am ready for a panini sandwich with gribiche sauce, extra fries… a plain yogurt, an ice-cold Coke… and for dessert, my favorite chocolate. Triple Nutella."
Mina burst out laughing. Dad too.
Mom, however, smacked me lightly on the head.
Me: "Mom! Hey!"
She shot me a look.
Mom: "Can you be serious for one minute?"
Me: "I am serious!"
Mom: "Not at all. And look at you! With all that junk food, you'll get huge. Soon nothing will fit you—not even your wedding dress!"
My wedding?
What is she talking about now?
I smiled teasingly.
Me: "Mom… you talk as if I'm getting married in two days."
None of them laughed.
An awkward silence followed.
Mina broke it:
Mina: "Esther… you'll have to get married one day, whether you like it or not."
Mom: "Exactly."
I stared at them, mouth open.
Seriously? Were they in a hurry to get rid of me?
I turned to my last hope.
Me: "Dad! They want to kick me out! You're not going to let that happen, right?"
Dad raised his hands dramatically.
Dad: "Stop bothering my daughter! And even if she gets married, they'll live here with us. Period."
Mina widened her eyes.
Mina: "What?! Do you hear yourself?"
Mom: "Yes, great idea. Why not move in with the in-laws while you're at it?"
Dad shrugged.
Dad: "Why not? As long as my daughter stays with me, I don't care."
Mina sighed.
Mina: "Oh Lord… with the three of you, even a psychologist would burn out."
Mom: "No, a psychologist would quit."
Dad: "Or ask for a very big raise."
I fell back onto my bed, laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
We spent the rest of the day like that, laughing and joking.
"My family is crazy…" I whispered.
Dad looked at me proudly.
"Crazy, yes. But we love you."
And I realized that despite their arguments, their excesses, their shouting, their suffocating hugs…
I would never want another family.
---
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