All Chapters of Kiss me 2.1: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

144 Chapters

Chapter 81 — The Sacristy

GABRIELThe door slams behind me like a condemnation. The cooler air of the sacristy strikes me, but it seems laden with dust and shadow, incapable of calming the fire consuming me. I remain frozen for an instant against the wood, my hands trembling, my breath ragged.On the other side of the wall, the nave already rumbles: a confused murmur of footsteps, whispers, aborted prayers. Worried voices. Suspicions. I no longer hear a community of the faithful, but a tribunal in ferment. And yet, all of this suddenly becomes distant, almost unreal.Because Clémence enters.She leaves her pew without a word, walks past the astonished glances, and joins me. Her silhouette stands out in the shadow of the sacristy. The door closes slowly behind her, as if to seal our exile. Silence immediately envelops us, thick, cutting.She stares at me. Only her, her gaze, her eyes of the abyss. They are no longer merely burning: they engulf me. My knees buckle despite myself.— You obsess me, I breathe, in a

Chapter 82 — The Response

GABRIELDawn broke, but I did not see it come. All night, I lay motionless, eyes wide open, hands crossed on my chest like a corpse watched over by itself. Each tick of the clock struck me like a hammer blow. The night seemed endless, interminable, as if time had sworn to strangle me before delivering me to the morning.On the desk, the letter still rests. Its seal, cold, dry, seems to watch over me with mute judgment. It is only a rectangle of paper, and yet it weighs on my chest like a tombstone. I tried to flee it by closing my eyes, but it always imposed itself, there, burning, calling me.When I finally hear the first sounds of the city—a cart grinding on the cobblestones, a merchant opening his shutters, the heavy step of a labourer—I rise like a condemned man torn from his cell to be led to the scaffold.I take the envelope. It burns in my hand. For an instant, temptation overwhelms me: to tear it up, reduce it to ashes, erase the confession before it finds a reader. But alread

Chapter 83— The Engagement

CLÉMENCEI had never believed that a day would come when the Church would open its arms to us.I had prayed, yes. Begged, sometimes. But always with that feeling of daring too much, of reaching greedy hands towards a bread that was not for me. I had been afraid of losing my way, of wanting what was not permitted.And yet, this evening, the church is open for us.Not for the crowd. Not for the world. But for us alone.Candles burn in the chancel, a trembling light that caresses the ancient stones. Their flames sway gently, like breathing. The air smells of warm wax and forgotten incense. The stained-glass windows, dark in the night, let through only remnants of light, red and blue, like appeased wounds, closed scars.I walk to the front pew, and my knees already falter. Everything is so silent that I hear my own heartbeat. I am afraid that this too-loud beating might shatter the fragile balance of this moment, as if I risked profaning the grace descending upon us.Then Gabriel enters.

Chapter 84— The Announcement

GABRIELI knew this step would be necessary.After the letter, after the secret blessing, after the betrothal in the shadow of the candles… we had to face the light of day. No longer the intimate light of God, but the harsh light of men.All week, I carried this certainty like a stone at the bottom of my pocket. I felt it, heavy and smooth, each time I celebrated mass, each time I raised my eyes to the chancel. I knew: I had to speak. To tell. To hide no longer.So this Sunday, when the church fills with whispers, shuffling steps, rustling coats, I feel my legs tremble.Families settle in, children fidget, the elderly kneel. All the faces I know, all those who have seen me pray, preach, bless. Those who have entrusted me with their secrets, their dead, their births. They wait for me, confident, certain that my voice will be clear and steady as always.But today, my voice must tremble.The mass first unfolds like a familiar river: hymns, prayers, readings. My mouth articulates, my hand

Chapter 85 — The Waiting

CLÉMENCESince the announcement, my nights no longer belong to me.I close my eyes, but sleep does not come: instead, images burst behind my eyelids, too bright to disappear. Church pews filled with voices, candles that light themselves, faces that open like flowers.I do not sleep. I do not wake. I inhabit a kind of in-between, as if suspended between earth and sky. Every stone of the church, every curtain of wind in the trees, every gleam of a star seems to know before I do that a day approaches. The day.So I let it come. I walk, I sit, I catch my breath, but everything brings me back to this certainty: I am no longer only a woman waiting for her fiancé, I become the centre of a common expectation.The village women parade like messengers. They bring me fabrics, ribbons, wildflowers, sometimes just a smile or a gesture of blessing. Their hands rest on my shoulders, on my hair, even on my belly, as if I carried a promise larger than myself.— You are becoming not just his wife, one

Chapter 86 — The Night of Vigils

CLÉMENCEThe house sleeps.But within me, nothing sleeps.I lie down, I close my eyes, and already my temples beat like procession drums. The crumpled sheets become altar cloths, the shadows on the wall twist into silhouettes of angels or demons.Each time I think I am sinking, I start awake.I dream without sleeping: a nave flooded with light, but still empty; a veil that lifts, a silence so heavy it weighs more than a thousand cries.I rise, barefoot, and wander through the house. My fingers glide over the whitewashed walls, over the closed doors, as if to gather the secret blessings of this place. I open the window: outside, the night is vast, pricked with stars.They seem to look at me, too. As if the heavens had taken their place in the front row.Then I whisper:— Lord, I come to you without adornment. Do not reject me.And a breath passes through my hair, like an invisible caress.---GABRIELThe bell fell silent long ago, but its echo still resonates in my bones.I am alone in

Chapter 87— The Dawn of Gestures

CLÉMENCEThe crowing of the rooster pulled me from sleep like a clash of cymbals.My eyes open wide in an instant: I know. Today is the day.My heart beats too fast, so fast it seems to want to break my chest. I sit up, I run my hands over my cheeks, over my dishevelled hair. My body trembles, but it does not want to flee: it wants to stand straight, to offer itself.Already the village women are there. They enter through the door without knocking, as if the house had become a common sanctuary. They carry fabrics, needles, flower crowns, strings of ribbons.They all speak at once:— Tie this.— Lift your head.— Breathe.— Do not cry yet, save your tears for the altar.Their hands brush against me, adorn me, guide me. I am no longer alone. I am a bride, but I am also their daughter, their sister, their prayer made flesh.I raise my arms, they adjust the dress around me. The white fabric glides against my skin like pure water. When they place the flower crown on my hair, a silence fall

Chapter 88 — The Breath Before the Light

CLÉMENCEEach step towards the church is a vertigo. The white of my dress blazes in the rising sun, but each reflection seems to dance on my skin with an intensity I had never known. The wind slightly lifts the panels of the fabric, as if to remind me that nothing is immutable, that everything can tip over. My heart beats at a cadence I no longer control. It is no longer my heart: it is the very rhythm of this day, that of a world in suspense, ready to explode.The village women still surround me, adjusting each fold, each ribbon. Their fingers are precise, their gestures measured to the millimetre, but behind each smile, I sense a shiver, an expectation. Their voices are a choir intertwining with my own breath:— Stand straight.— Breathe in.— Do not forget who you are.And I strive to remember. But a shiver runs down the back of my neck. Something lurks. No tangible threat, just an awareness of the fragility of this moment. Like a breath passing through crystal, which could shatter

Chapter 89— The Apotheosis and the Night

THE BELLSThey all burst forth together, furious, triumphant, flooding the sky with a tumult of bronze. Their vibration rolls over the hills, rushes down into the fields, sweeps through the village like a wave of fire. Each stroke resonates in the flesh, shakes the windows, swells the chests. Children shout, women laugh, men raise their arms to the sky as if to harvest this thunder of joy.The whole village is drunk. Faces light up, hands wave, hearts race. The procession advances, a human torrent saturated with colours, flowers, songs.The church waits, open, saturated with light and scents.---CLÉMENCEI walk slowly, placing one foot after the other on the carpet of petals. The flowers crunch under my sole, releasing their heady fragrances. My dress blazes in the sun, each fold reflecting bursts of whiteness that seem to radiate from me.I feel the gazes. They envelop me, pierce me, burn me. Each breath I take is a vertigo. The women follow me with their eyes, the men murmur, the c

Chapter 90 — End: The Dawn of Oaths

GabrielSilence has retaken possession of the room. The candles have almost all gone out, leaving only a few flickering flames, ready to dissolve into the dawn already filtering through the narrow window. The air is still warm, charged with our sweat, our gasps, the cries and sighs of the night past. The sheets stick to our still-damp skins, but we do not seek to free ourselves. We remain entangled, one against the other, as if the slightest movement could break the spell that holds us.Clémence is curled up against me, her breath caressing my chest, her heart beating in rhythm with mine. Her dark, damp hair spreads like a wave over my skin, sometimes tickling my lips, sometimes hiding her face which I reveal with a tender gesture. I gaze at her, incapable of looking away. Her eyelids half-open, heavy with fatigue and ecstasy, and her gaze comes to rest on me with an intensity that pierces me.— Gabriel… she murmurs, in a hoarse and fragile voice.I answer with a kiss on her forehead,

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