Page 145 of The Substitute Fiancée

I haven’t been this happy in a long time.

Unfortunately, reality catches up with me brutally when I return to the office on Monday morning.

Our teams detect an alarming drop in active users: –15%. The number flashes on the meeting room screen like a warning signal. After growth of 8% instead of the expected 12%, the situation is more than delicate.

David and I exchange a look. We both know what it means.

The crisis meeting with the board of directors is tense.

I have two weeks to turn things around before the mandatory announcement to shareholders. Two weeks to identify the problem, find a solution, and implement it.

The timing couldn’t be worse.

Meetings pile up. Data analysis. Debriefings with the product teams. Calls with developers. Communication strategies. The days stretch longer and longer.

I barely have time to eat or sleep. And even that’s a struggle.

Takeout containers pile up on my desk. Coffee becomes my closest ally. I feel the fatigue settling into my shoulders, behind my eyes.

Hang in there. Just a few more days.

But despite the pressure, the urgency, and the worried looks from the board, Sam remains my priority.

Every evening at six, I’m there.

I shut down my computer, ignore the notifications still buzzing in my pocket, and head straight to the Artémis hall. We paint frames. We talk. We laugh. Sometimes, we even go out to dinner at a small neighborhood restaurant.

Those hours with her become my anchor. My refuge.

At night, when I get home, I’m tempted to get back to work. The laptop sits on my coffee table, calling to me like a siren.

Just one hour. Just a few emails. Just checking the latest numbers.

But I don’t.

Working myself to exhaustion won’t help me move faster or more efficiently. In the past, I pushed myself to the breaking point to solve a crisis. That’s no longer the case.

I want to keep a reserve of energy for Sam. To be there if she needs me. To avoid showing up depleted, drained, incapable of offering her anything but an exhausted body and an overloaded mind.

And that’s how, without even realizing it, she helps me balance my life better.

She gives me a reason to set boundaries.

My schedule has never been tighter. Yet, paradoxically, I feel more in control than ever.

*

Wednesday, May 29. D-1.

Emelyne, Mara, Matthieu, Oliver, David, and I bring Sam’s works back to MatchMapping. It creates a huge buzz, and many employees come by to take a look. Some even film us as we mount the paintings in their frames. The women handle the watercolors; we take care of the oil paintings. The final result is magnificent, and Sam is thrilled.

But time is running out. We load up the cars, and the whole team meets at Richelieu.

On site, Sam gives her instructions for placing the paintings. We form pairs to optimize the hanging. Matthieu teams up with Oliver; David works with me.

Mara and Emelyne meticulously check the alignment of each frame with spirit levels.

“A little more to the left,” Sam tells us, stepping back to judge the overall effect. “No, too much. Come back two centimeters.”