Author’s Note: I would like to thank everyone for your support and for taking some of your time to leave comments.
❤️
Thank you.
It really encourages me and motivates me to keep going.
And now, I’ll leave you with the chapter.
😁
Marinette returned five minutes later.
Exactly five minutes — Leo had counted them because he had nothing else to do.
She returned with a woman behind her, a woman with dark blue hair, warm eyes, and the kind of smile that made you feel as though you had known her for years, even if you were seeing her for the first time in your life.
“This is my mother,” Marinette said.
“Sabine.”
Sabine did something Leo hadn’t expected — she extended her hand and shook his warmly, saying something in French that Marinette quickly translated.
“She says welcome.”
“Thank you,” Leo said directly to Sabine.
Sabine’s smile grew wider as she said something else.
“She says the spare room upstairs is empty, and you can sleep there tonight,” Marinette translated, then quickly added, as if explaining it to herself before explaining it to him, “My mom is always like this.
She doesn’t ask many questions.
She sees someone who needs help, and she helps them.
That’s all.”
Leo looked at Sabine.
Then at Marinette.
Then back at Sabine.
“Thank you very much,” he said with complete sincerity.
“That’s…
very kind of you.”
Sabine said something in French in a playful tone.
Marinette laughed and hid her smile behind her hand.
“What did she say?” Leo asked.
“She said…” Marinette hesitated.
“She said your face makes it obvious that you didn’t expect your day to turn out like this.”
Leo looked at Sabine, who was watching him with amused eyes, waiting for his response.
“She’s absolutely right,” he said, his face trembling slightly.
Sabine laughed and returned to the kitchen, saying something else as she left.
“She says dinner will be ready in an hour,” Marinette translated.
They sat alone again.
Marinette picked up her sewing.
Leo looked at the table and thought.
A room to sleep in, food, and a family that didn’t ask too many questions.
Two out of three problems solved in a single day.
But honestly, this was better than he had expected.
“Leo.”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to look for your bag tomorrow?”
He looked at her.
The fictional bag he had invented on the street.
“Yes,” he said.
“Tomorrow.”
“Do you know where to look?”
“I have an idea.”
She looked at him with the expression of someone who didn’t completely believe him but had decided not to ask any more questions.
“Okay,” she said, returning to her sewing.
Then:
“Marinette.”
“Yes?” she answered without raising her head.
“Seriously, thank you.”
The needle stopped for a moment.
Then continued moving.
“You’re welcome,” she said in a normal tone, though there was something quietly warm beneath it.
Exactly one hour later, Sabine called from the kitchen.
Marinette immediately stood up and gestured for Lio to follow her.
The kitchen was too small to comfortably fit three people — yet it was filled with food, voices, and movement in a way that made it seem larger than it actually was.
A man was sitting at the table — tall and broad, with a wide smile.
He looked at Lio when he entered and immediately extended his hand.
“I’m Tom,” he said in English with a clear French accent.
“You’re Lio?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” He said something to Sabine in French that made her laugh.
“He says the house needed a guest,” Marinette translated, in the tone of someone accustomed to translating her father’s comments.
“My dad is always like this.”
Leo sat down.
And dinner began.
Dinner was chaotic in a way Leo wasn’t used to.
Tom spoke loudly and laughed at his own jokes before even finishing them.
Sabine passed the food around and added comments in French that made Marinette laugh and hide her face in her hands.
Marinette herself — quiet at the bakery, completely different here — laughed louder and responded to her father with the same energy.
Leo sat there eating and watching.
A real family.
With all its chaos, warmth, and noise.
Something moved inside his chest in a way he didn’t notice at first.
The word kept echoing in his mind.
In the middle of dinner, Tom asked him something in French.
Marinette translated:
“He asks which city you’re from.”
Leo thought for a moment.
“From a very distant city,” he said.
Marinette translated.
Tom laughed and said something.
“He says every city is far away until it becomes close,” Marinette translated, then looked at Lio with the expression of someone apologizing for her father’s comment.
Leo looked at Tom.
“He’s right,” he said with a smile.
Tom smiled broadly and said something to Sabine with obvious approval.
“He says he likes you,” Marinette whispered to Lio in a completely neutral tone.
“I like him too,” Lio replied in the same tone.
Marinette looked at him.
Then hid a small smile and returned to her plate.
After dinner, Marinette showed him to the spare room upstairs.
A small, clean room with a window overlooking the street.
A bed, a table, and a chair — everything he needed.
“The bathroom is at the end,” Marinette said, pointing down the hallway.
“And if you need anything—”
“I won’t need anything,” Leo said.
“Thank you, Marinette.”
She looked at him for a second.
“Okay.
Good night, Leo.”
“Good night.”
She closed the door.
Leo sat silently on the edge of the bed.
He looked out the window — Paris at night was different.
Lights, faint sounds, and a sky where you couldn’t see many stars because of the city lights.
He took out the watch.
“One day,” he said quietly to it, “and I’m in a room belonging to strangers who fed me and gave me a bed without asking too many questions.”
“I don’t know yet if this is good luck or bad luck.”
He looked at the inactive watch in his hand.
“But at least — it’s better than staying in the alley and living like a miserable rat.”
End of Chapter Eight