Chapter 30
Corine
It was one of those rare mornings where the sun didn't feel like an intruder through the window but a gentle invitation.
I stood in front of the mirror, my hair still slightly damp from the shower, Astrid babbling on the floor behind me as she played with the lid of her sippy cup. Kyle was already dressed, mismatching his socks like he always did, waiting by the door with a grin that stretched from one chubby cheek to the other.
"Mommy, are we going to get pancakes now?" Kyle asked, tugging on my hand. “The big kind, not the tiny ones Nana makes.”
I smiled, brushing some lint from his little hoodie. "The big kind, I promise. With whipped cream and strawberries too. Today’s just for us, okay?"
“Yay!” He jumped and then paused. “Can we go to the park after? I wanna show Astrid how I push the swing.”
My throat caught slightly as I nodded. “Of course. Let’s do everything today.”
We left the house, no security team, no nanny, no publicist. Just me and my kids—something I hadn’t felt strong enough to do in years. The last few days since leaving the facility had been careful, quiet. But today, I felt good. I felt…alive.
The pancake place had big glass windows and walls scribbled with children’s drawings. Kyle chatted away as he ate, getting syrup everywhere, while Astrid mashed pieces of fruit in her hands and squealed whenever I wiped her face.
“Mommy?” Kyle said around a mouthful of pancake.
“Mhm?”
“Is Daddy coming next time?”
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. My heart thudded once—hard—before settling into a dull ache.
I set the fork down gently. “No, baby. Daddy’s not coming today.”
He seemed to think about that, frowning a little. “He used to come before. We had milkshakes, remember?”
I nodded slowly. “I remember.”
“But he’s… busy now?” His voice was too small, like he was trying not to push me.
I inhaled slowly through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. “Something like that.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to break him either. So I let the silence settle between us like an old sweater—worn, but familiar.
Kyle reached over with his tiny hand and squeezed mine. “It’s okay, Mommy. You’re here. I like it when it’s just us.”
That made my eyes burn.
After breakfast, we went to the park. Astrid clapped happily when Kyle pushed her gently on the swing. I took pictures, real ones, not posed. Just the kind of memories you want to bottle up in a snow globe and shake on rainy days.
We were just leaving, Astrid already falling asleep in her stroller, when I heard it.
The sound of shutters.
Fast. Loud. Too many.
I turned and saw them—paparazzi. Two, maybe three of them, appearing from what felt like thin air near the edge of the park. They didn’t scream my name or throw questions like they used to. But the click-click-click of the cameras was enough.
I covered Astrid’s face with the light blanket and grabbed Kyle’s hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get to the car.”
He didn’t say anything. He just squeezed my hand tighter.
By the time we got home, my phone was buzzing nonstop.
Missed calls. Emails. Notifications.
I tucked Astrid in her crib and sat on the edge of the bed, opening the message from Julian—my agent and the only one who had stayed loyal through it all.
Julian:
You’re trending. It’s everywhere.
But this time it’s good, Cor. Really good.
You were spotted with the kids. You look healthy. Glowing.
I’ve already had five calls from major outlets asking for interviews.
And guess what?
NYFW wants you back. Runway. Prime slot.
I blinked at the screen.
New York Fashion Week?
After all this time?
Julian called a second later, and I picked up.
“Please tell me you’re sitting down,” he said, breathless like he’d run a marathon.
“I am. I just got your messages.”
“They want you back, Cor. The industry wants you back. Vogue’s talking. Elle’s inquiring. And this wasn’t a stunt—you were just being a mom. They saw it, and they’re eating it up.”
I rubbed my temple. “I didn’t mean to be seen. I just wanted a day with my kids.”
“And you got that. But it also reminded the world who you are. You’re you, Corinne. The girl who took over Paris by nineteen. The girl who survived everything and came back stronger. You didn’t even have to try.”
I was quiet for a moment. “I’m scared, Julian.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But I wouldn’t let you fall again. Not this time.”
I heard Kyle laughing softly from the living room, probably watching cartoons. The sound grounded me.
“I’m not ready to jump into chaos,” I admitted. “But maybe I’m ready to be seen again. Not as a model. Just as… me.”
Julian’s voice softened. “That’s all you ever needed to be.”
I smiled faintly. “Alright. Let’s talk about NYFW.”
He practically whooped into the phone, and I laughed—a real one, one that didn’t feel foreign anymore.
Later that night, after dinner and baths, I tucked Kyle into bed. He curled into his blanket, his face soft and peaceful.
“Mommy?” he murmured.
“Yes, baby?”
“You’re pretty. You looked like a princess today.”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
He closed his eyes. “I wanna be like you when I grow up.”
“You already are,” I whispered.
As I closed the door and walked into the hallway, I paused by Astrid’s crib. Her tiny chest rose and fell, her fists curled like she was holding dreams.
It wasn’t the life I had planned, but maybe it was the life I was finally strong enough to live.
And tomorrow?
Well, tomorrow the world would remember my name.
But tonight—I was just Mom.