At this point, I don't make any connection between the facts, between the father and the son. Maybe Laurent's right, maybe Paul does hate me, maybe it is my fault, maybe I have done something wrong. I try to understand what I've done, what I've failed to do. I haven't been giving him as much attention recently, I have to admit. I've been there the whole time but I've been a little distracted. I've been writing my book. You don't have space for anyone when you're writing. And then there were the girls. At first, I didn't say anything to him. But in the end, we had a chat. Not right away, not about the first girl, nor the second, but the third girl he met in passing, he liked her. He said, Why don't we go on holiday with her, that would be nice. But we'd just broken up, I told him we couldn't, I explained. I asked him whether he already suspected something, whether it bothered him. He already suspected something, it didn't bother him. We went out, he took my hand, we went to get a soda at la Palette downstairs, we were both in a good mood, we often were, come to think of it. We carried on as before. There were the weeks where he stayed with me and I took care of him, then there were the weeks where he stayed with his dad, and I took care of the girls. I was always careful. Everything was going well. I know it was. Some things you just know.