That evening, Mylova had done the unthinkable.
Her beloved had just returned from Paris, where he had been studying for several months. The moment he set foot back in the city, he rushed to shower Mylova with gifts, as if to make up for the time they had lost. The very first was a stunning pastel-blue dress, fit for a princess.
She was determined to wear it to please him — and she was right to do so.
Louis was dazzled by the beauty of the girl he cherished so deeply.
How could he not love her?
Mylova carried that gentle, almost unreal grace of a fairy-tale heroine. She was the princess one dreams of living happily ever after with.
They were an extraordinary couple — so in tune, so harmonious, that everyone in the neighborhood believed they were soulmates.
If only they knew…
That night, they strolled through the park not far from her home. Together, they spoke of the future, of their shared dreams, of all they could build far from prying eyes.
— My love, let's get out of here! Louis suddenly blurted.
— You don't like the park anymore? she asked, surprised. We used to come here all the time, and nothing has changed.
— No, my life, you don't understand… I mean, let's leave New Orleans. Let's go somewhere else — another country. A place where we could live our love freely, far from the judgment and chains of this society.
Mylova fell silent for a moment before answering in a trembling voice:
— But Louis… what are you saying? You know we can't just leave. At least, I can't. My whole life is here… and so is my family.
I wish our love could be accepted, recognized, even celebrated. But I doubt we'd find a place better than this. Besides, that absurd rule you despise didn't begin in New Orleans… it's rooted everywhere in the world.
Louis, there is nothing I want more than to shout to the world how much I love you — how my love for you defies the impossible.
But doing so would be suicide.
Louis let out a long sigh.
— It's 1994… and yet people remain so blind.
— We have to face the truth… she whispered.
They eventually calmed down, hearts still heavy but soothed by each other's presence. In silence, they admired the few timid stars that had begun to pierce the peaceful night sky.
They were together. And that was all that mattered.
---
Meanwhile, back at the Dumas household, Mylova's mother paced the hallway. She could not find rest. Her voice still trembling with emotion, she murmured, head in her hands:
— Good heavens… what have I done?
She had just raised her voice at her daughter — a rare event in the Dumas family. In their home, no one ever went to bed angry. It was a golden rule, passed down from generation to generation.
Determined to make things right, Mother Dumas approached her daughter's bedroom door, ready to knock and speak calmly, mother to daughter. But that night, she had no idea what she was about to find.
There was no sign of Mylova in the room.
— Oh no… am I dreaming?! She mocked me?! she exclaimed, her voice a mix of worry and anger.
Oh, she will pay for this…
But deep in her heart, she knew this night would be unlike any other.