Chapter 22

By the time we made it to the kitchen, I had mostly recovered from Monique’s teasing—mostly. She set to work preparing breakfast, making something more elaborate than usual. Scrambled eggs with fresh herbs, crispy toast, fresh fruit, and rich coffee.

She was clearly trying to impress me, and I loved it.

I leaned back in my chair, watching her move around the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the cool tile. “Trying to prove something?” I mused.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “I have to make sure you know I can cook. That way, when you’re better, you’ll want to cook for me.”

I chuckled. “I love cooking, and once I’m back to full strength, I plan on spoiling you.”

She set a plate in front of me and kissed my temple. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Breakfast was slow and filled with easy conversation, but beneath it, I could feel the weight of what was coming. The Gendarmes would be arriving soon, and though I didn’t have much to tell them, the unknowns still sat heavy on my chest.

By the time we finished eating and cleaned up, we were both composed and put together, ready for whatever came next.

At exactly ten o’clock, the doorbell rang.

Monique opened the door, greeting the officers politely before leading them into the living room. I sat down, keeping my expression calm.

“Thank you for seeing us, Monsieur Moreau,” one of the officers said as they settled in.

I nodded. “Of course. I wish I could be more helpful.”

One of them pulled out a notepad. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? Tell us everything you remember.”

I exhaled slowly. “I had gone for a ride on my cycle. The weather turned—rain came in fast. I was making my way back home when...” I paused, trying to summon the memory, but it was hazy. “I remember the impact. I remember my bike sliding. But that’s it. I don’t remember seeing the vehicle that hit me.”

The officers exchanged glances before one of them spoke again. “You didn’t hear anything before the impact? An engine? A horn?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. One moment I was riding, the next ... I was on the ground, hurt.”

They took a few more notes, their expressions neutral but focused.

“We’ve reviewed the accident site,” one admitted. “Unfortunately, there were no security cameras in the area. No witnesses came forward. We’ve checked local garages for any vehicles coming in with damage, but so far, nothing.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “So, what you’re saying is ... you have nothing.”

The officer hesitated before nodding. “Not much, no. We’ll continue looking, but without any leads, we can’t guarantee we’ll find who did this.”

I sat back, absorbing the words. I had hoped there would be something—a clue, a trace, anything to bring me closer to understanding what had happened. But now, it seemed more and more likely that I would never know.

After a few more questions, they thanked me for my time and stood to leave. Monique walked them to the door, exchanging polite farewells before closing it behind them.

She turned to find me still sitting there, lost in thought.

“John?” she asked softly, stepping toward me.

I looked up, my chest feeling tight. “I might never know who did this to me.”

She nodded, kneeling beside me, taking my good hand in both of hers. “I know.”

There was a long silence before I exhaled. “And I think I have to be okay with that.”

Monique squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to be okay with it today. But you will be, eventually.”

I studied her for a moment before nodding. “You’re right.”

She smiled. “I usually am.”

A small chuckle escaped me, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. I might never get the answers I wanted, but sitting here, with Monique beside me, I realized something else—I had survived.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.