53. Results
Samantha
Alexander comes with me to school for the announcement of the results. For the occasion, he’s wearing a black turtleneck and jeans. Despite his desire to stay unnoticed, every gaze lands on him. His natural presence and charisma draw attention without effort.
Some whisper as they look at him, clearly recognizing the CEO who walked out of a multibillion-dollar strategic meeting to be there for his fiancée. The story has gone viral.
We meet Mara and Emelyne outside the entrance.
“Good luck, girls,” Mara says, pulling us into a hug.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Alexander reassures me, kissing me softly. “Go. I’ll wait here.”
Inside, the school hallways are packed. All the graduating students are waiting to be called, tense, exchanging nervous looks.
Emelyne heads upstairs while I join my classmates. We offer each other faint smiles, all of us crossing our fingers.
Finally, the doors to our room open, and we’re called in one by one. My classmates go in, stay for a few minutes, then come back out. Some silently scream with joy, others flash a victory sign, and we celebrate for them.
One or two rush out, faces closed, disappearing without a word.
My nerves spike as the line shortens.
My heart pounds harder and harder.
“Samantha Chevalier.”
My name echoes down the hallway. I take a deep breath and step into the room.
Ms. Mainville sits at the center, flanked by Mr. Dubois and Ms. Ilse. Their faces are unreadable.
I walk forward, hands shaking.
“Good morning, Miss Chevalier,” Ms. Mainville says. “Please, have a seat.”
I sit in the chair facing them, my heart threatening to burst.
A silence settles. Endless.
Then Ms. Mainville opens the file in front of her and looks up at me.
“We greatly appreciated your creative approach,” she begins.
I hold my breath.
“Your body of paintings shows remarkable coherence. There is a maturity in your work that is rare in someone so young.”
My heart leaps. Does that mean…?
“You defended your ideas well,” Mr. Dubois adds. “That’s an admirable quality. Have more confidence in your work.”
He almost smiles.
“Your reflection on temporality is fully developed,” Ms. Ilse continues. “We were particularly impressed by your most recent pieces.”
Ms. Mainville closes the file and looks me straight in the eye.
“Congratulations, Miss Chevalier. You have earned your degree. With honors from the jury.”
The world stops.
Then it explodes.
“Really?” I whisper, barely able to breathe.
“Really,” Ms. Mainville confirms with a sincere smile. “Keep going. You have a bright future ahead of you.”
I stand up, legs trembling, a huge smile stretching across my face.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
I leave the room in a daze. The hallway moves around me like a dream. My classmates watch me, waiting for my signal.
I raise both thumbs, unable to contain my smile.
Joy lights up their faces—pure, radiant.
I run down the stairs, cross the lobby, push through the doors.
Alexander is there, talking with Mara. As if he sensed my gaze, he turns just in time to catch me in his arms.
“I got it!” I shout. “With honors!”
He lifts me up and spins me around, his laughter ringing in my ear.
“I knew it! I knew you would!” he says, setting me down, his hands framing my face. “I’m so proud of you.”
He kisses me passionately, right there, in front of everyone, not caring about the stares.
Emelyne joins us five minutes later, glowing.
“I got it too!” she announces. “With honors!”
I throw my arms around her and hug her tight.
“We did it! We made it!”
Mara joins us, and we fall into a group hug, laughing and crying at the same time.
*
That evening, Alexander takes us to a fine-dining restaurant to celebrate our degrees.
Champagne, refined dishes, festive energy.
Emelyne recounts with hilarious details how she almost spilled coffee on one of the jury members.
Alexander, seated beside me, doesn’t let go of my hand the entire meal.
Every so often, he leans in to kiss my forehead, my temple, my lips.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs for the tenth time.
“You already told me,” I reply, laughing.
“And I’ll keep telling you.”
Toward the end of the meal, his phone vibrates several times. He frowns, pulls it from his pocket.
His expression shifts. An amused smile curves his lips.
“What is it?” I ask.
He hands me his phone.
On the screen, a photo of us in front of the school. Alexander is lifting me above him, our faces glowing with joy. The moment is frozen in all its spontaneous beauty.
The post already has thousands of likes.
@ParisianLife: “AlexanderDelaunay celebrating the graduation of his fiancée Samantha Chevalier. The couple melting Paris. #RelationshipGoals #AlexanderDelaunay”
I scroll through the comments.
@RomanticParis: “Where is my Alexander?”
@TechLoveStories: “A CEO who drops everything for his girlfriend. I’m dying of jealousy.”
@StartupGossip: “Plot twist: she graduated with honors. Power couple alert.”
@WomenInArtParis: “Samantha Chevalier—remember the name. Her Richelieu exhibition was exceptional.”
I blush as I read them, touched and embarrassed all at once.
Emelyne leans over to see the screen and bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God, you’re everywhere!”
Mara looks at us with a fond smile.
“You make a beautiful couple,” she says simply.
Alexander raises his glass.
“To Sam and Emelyne. Congratulations on your degrees.”
We clink glasses, and in the warmth of that moment—surrounded by the people I love—I realize how far I’ve come.
Every doubt.
Every tear.
Every sleepless night.
Because it all led me here.
To this perfect moment.