I was sitting on the couch in our mansion in France. My face was puffy and my eyes were red. When I heard the footsteps of my grandfather, I began to blink rapidly to get rid of the tears and rub them away from my eyes.

“What’s wrong Zack?” My grandfather, Pietro, asked as he saw me. His voice was both gentle and carried a worried undertone.

“N-nothing,” I stammered out. I tried my best to cover it up, however, I was not as good as I am now. Pietro’s eyes narrowed as he was able to spot my real feelings. He walked up to me slowly before taking a seat and gently placing his hand on my face, wiping away the tears.

“Are you upset that your mother and father didn’t show up like last year?” Pietro asked as his hands brushed against my smooth, baby-like cheeks.

It was my tenth birthday. They told me that they were going to spend the day with me, but like the last three years, they just left. This time, however, they didn’t even say a word. When I woke up in the morning, they were gone.

I nodded quickly. My cheeks were flushed from embarrassment and guilt as he immediately caught onto my real feelings.

Pietro warmly chuckled. “My boy, you’ve matured quite a bit.”

I turned to face him and stared in confusion. At the time, I didn’t know what he meant. Matured? I didn’t feel any different from before. Aside from hitting a decade old, I was still the same. Nothing was different, even down to my birthday.

Yet looking back, I now know what he meant. As kids, we cried to get our parent’s attention. When we got older, we began to hide our tears to hide our struggles from them, to stop them from worrying. The act of maturing is figuring out what’s important in life. You don’t want to hurt those that you care about, so we put on a façade of happiness. The moment you start hiding your feelings is the moment you mature.

“You’ll understand when you grow older,” He answered me. At the time, that didn’t do anything to help me understand, but I simply nodded as if they did.

“A year ago, you told me that people would disappoint me,” I began while trying to compose myself. “I shouldn’t be acting like this.”

Pietro sighed as he moved his hand to my lap. “I should’ve told you this, but just because you know people will disappoint you shouldn’t mean that you stop caring. Even if you know the ending, you still have the right to cry.”

“Then why did you tell me that?” I asked. “If it doesn’t change anything, why tell me?”

“If you know someone is going to die soon, you’ll have more time to accept it. When it eventually happens, you’ll still feel grief, however, you’ll feel sentimental from the time you’ve spent.”

I carefully considered his words. It seemed that every year on this day was disappointment after disappointment. Yet despite it, I valued the time that the two of us spent together. Time and experience that couldn’t be experienced again.

“Tell me about your French studies,” Pietro said to distract me as he ruffled my hair.

My eyes lit up in the way that a kid’s does when you ask him about his accomplishments.

“I’m doing well with the grammar, writing, and reading, but my pronunciation needs work,” I said passionately. “I’m also learning a lot about the culture and history.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” A warm smile appeared on his face as he rose up from the couch. “Come along, I have a surprise planned.”

“Surprise?” I repeated as my eyes gleamed in giddy excitement. I sat up with a jolt of energy. Pietro laughed at my actions and began walking outside to the car. I followed him, practically hopping up and down on the walk there.

When we arrived, I saw that our driver was already waiting inside. Pietro walked over to the door on the passenger side and opened it, waiting for me to go in before he did.

He closed the door and we began to drive towards an unknown destination.

----------------------------------------

When the car finally stopped, Pietro rolled down the window and quickly looked out before opening the door and exiting. I followed his lead and stepped out.

In front of us was Mémorial de Caen. At the entrance hung the flags of the Allies on a green field. The actual building was a brownish-gray color. It looked quite busy with crowds of people going in to view the museum.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Pietro started walking towards a man similar in age to him. I slowly followed behind, unsure of where he was going.

“Bonjour!” The man greeted them as they finally met.

“Ciao Gabriel!” Pietro returned the greeting and walked over with his arms spread for a hug. The two shared one before Pietro turned over to me.

“Uh, hi,” I greeted uncertainly.

“Is this the grandson you’ve been talking about?” Gabriel asked.

“Indeed, he is,” Pietro responded proudly. “Gabriel, this is Zack. Zack, this is Gabriel.”

The man bent his knees down so that we were face to face. “Hello young man, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I said slowly as I faced Pietro, unsure of how to proceed.

“Zack, Gabriel here was a resistance fighter.”

My eyes widened and lit up as I heard that. Any kid would be excited to meet someone like that. “R-really?”

“I was,” Gabriel said and chuckled. “I’ve heard you’re learning about France’s history. Tell me what you know.”

“La Résistance was made up of men and women from all different parts of society from émigrés to Catholics to fascists,” I began with great enthusiasm.

“They provided crucial intel for the Allies on D-Day and sabotaged their war efforts. After Normandy, the resistance was officially recognized as the French Forces of the Interior. By VE Day, it had 1.2 million men,” I said before frowning. “That’s all I read about.

“That was impressive!” Gabriel clapped. “Not many kids your age are that well-informed.”

He reached into his backpack and began to pull something out. When he brought it in front of me, I saw it was a book. He handed it to me and I reached out immediately. He gently placed it on my hand before I pulled it towards me. I began to read the title aloud.

“Méditations poétiques ?” I said, unsure of my pronunciation. I looked up to him for confirmation, which he gave when he nodded his head.

I stared at the book with a small gleam, eager to begin reading. “Merci !”

Gabriel laughed at my use of French. “Is this your third language?”

“Fourth,” I said proudly. “English, Spanish, Italian, and French.”

“My my, aren’t we impressive,” He said as he faced Pietro. “He certainly is impressive.”

“I did tell you he was,” Pietro said with a smirk. “At only ten too.”

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel said with sudden realization. “Happy birthday Zack!”

I nodded as my eyes began to water again. This time, it was happiness. Gabriel, a man I had never met until five minutes ago, had done more on my birthday than both my parents. The gift he gave me, while not being expensive or luxurious, still felt better than my other gifts. It was one from the heart, one that was made after deliberation.

They both noticed the tears but didn’t do anything this time. They both knew that it shouldn’t have them concerned but rather touched.

I began to wipe my tears before they fell and ruined the book.

“Zack, do you know what this museum is?” Pietro asked me.

“We’re in Normandy, so a World War II museum?” I guessed.

Pietro nodded. “We’re going to tour it with Gabriel here and you can ask him all the questions you want.”

“Really?” I said as my eyes danced with happiness and excitement. Despite being a museum, I was surrounded by people that cared about me. It isn’t the location that makes memories but rather the people you’re with. I loved Pietro and Gabriel being a resistance fighter filled me with awe and respect.

“Really,” Pietro said as he nodded his head. I faced Gabriel and he nodded as well. He gained a joyful smile as he saw my genuine excitement.

“Well, we have no time to waste if we are to see it all,” Gabriel said as he began to lead us.

I reached out to Pietro for his hand, looking for one that would never leave me. He immediately grasped onto mine as a warm feeling passed through my entire body.

----------------------------------------

“Zack!” Michael’s voice suddenly snapped me out of my haze. “Are you okay?”

My eyes squinted as I shook my head. “I think I just had a flashback.”

“What?”

“Never mind, I think it’s just the stress,” I said as I rose up from our seat. We were currently sitting at a café, eating breakfast together.

Michael stared at me with concern before also rising up. We left a fifty euro note on the table as we began to walk down the street. “Heh, I’m quite stressed out too.”

“Well, it’s made or break for us in the next minute,” I said as I checked my watch. It was 11:59, one minute away from everything.

The two of us looked up in unison at the giant clock tower that was in front of us. The second hand slowly and slowly moved as it inched towards 12.

57

58

59

It moved in slow motion between 59 and 0. I watched with nervous anticipation until the clock displayed 12:00.

With my shaking hands, I pulled out the walkie-talkie. “Gentlemen, are you there?”

“Yes, we are,” All four other voices responded.

“It’s time to begin Operation Lupin,” I declared.

“Copy that,” They said. I closed my eyes as the sound of explosions could be heard both around us and in Versailles.

Sounds of people yelling in panic flooded the air before everything went silent. I opened my eyes and looked at all the screens in the city as they displayed one singular feed.

"Let the game begin," I said with a sadistic smile.