Incidentally His

Loïc:

It wasn't a joint nation with France. It wasn't an island either. And according to the vast media, it was the wealthy people's playground.

Of course, they were right and as a native, having lived there my whole life, I'd seen so much more to life than ever could meet the eye, I'd gone numb. That made people think I was snobby, uptight, rude and proud, but when you've ridden in more Porsche and Cadillac Ubers than the average person, nothing tends to amuse you anymore.

And especially the westerners. They were always a funny catch.

Now, don't get me wrong I loved the U.S so much, and had one of the times of my life there, but I was way more eager to go back to the French scene, the cliché croissants, the macarons that i believed were an acquired taste, and the flashy streets of Monte-Carlo.

Monaco was my home.

And I was headed back.

As the days grew shorter and summer began to wane, I found myself amidst a whirlwind of excitement and packing. It had been several months since I left Monaco to stay with my grandmother in the United States

I lifted my eyes at the sound of my grandmother cooking just a few doors away. The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on my half-empty suitcase. Clothes, toys, and cherished memories of my time in the U.S. filled the room.

"You'll be back here one day, right? " she asked, her eyes twisted in concern. I wore a reassuring smile, but my heart felt heavy with the thought of leaving her. But then, I had to leave. I'd done what I was sent to. And even more. My stomach twisted into knots at the thought of leaving the very reason I had agreed to come here in the first place, and that alone has become the bane of my existence.

I looked over to thee bedside drawer at the little framed picture of us, he in his custom-made tux and I in the same one but with a tail

cut-out. It was our late prom picture we had shot together. I had still been in Monaco when the real prom had taken place, but, for good measure we still had a photo taken even several months later.

Soon, the departure time arrived, and we headed to the airport with my bags in tow. I gazed out the car window, taking in the familiar sights of American streets. At the airport, long lines of travelers bustled around, each on their unique journey. I'd spotted a gay couple holding hands while sexily sporting their matching beach outfits.

Probably headed for Bali,

I mentally shrugged.

I clung to my grandmother's hand as we navigated through security, the process feeling like a blur.

Once on the plane, I settled into my seat by the window, the engine's hum, a comforting lullaby, filling my ears. As we soared into the skies, I watched the world transform beneath me, the vast Atlantic Ocean stretched endlessly below, a reminder of the distance between my two homes.

My thoughts drifted between the memories I had made in the U.S. and the anticipation of reuniting with my mother in Monaco. I had left her quite abruptly, after a small argument and I sat troubled hoping we would have a smooth recovery as I returned.

It never felt nice to be on no-speaking terms with her although i reached our every breathing day from America either through texts or calls. Some she responded to and others, I carried unanswered back to our own little corner of Monte-Carlo. Now, I had hope of a possible reunification, but of course if things never went well, I always had a home in my best friend.

The descent into Nice Côte d'Azur Airport brought a rush of excitement. Monaco was now within reach. We disembarked, and the airport's familiar Mediterranean charm greeted me. The scent of fresh sea air and the sound of French being spoken all around warmed my heart.

The flight had bridged the physical gap, but there was still a sense of reacquainting myself with the place I called home. As I stepped out of the airport, the azure waters of the Mediterranean gleamed in the distance, and the winding streets of Monaco beckoned. My journey had come full circle, and with each step, I felt a sense of belonging returning.

I was finally home.

As the plane touched down at Monaco's chic airport, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement.

Man, it's been way too long!

After grabbing my bags, I hopped into a cab, telling the driver to take me to my family's place. The ride was quick, but it felt like forever as I took in the sights of Monaco – the fancy cars, the palm trees, the whole glamorous deal.

Once I got to our villa, I paid the cabbie and practically burst through the front door. And there she was, my mom, waiting with open arms.

We hugged like we hadn't seen each other in a lifetime, both of us tearing up a bit.

She immediately yanked my jet-lagged ass into our living room, and we plopped down on the couch. She started gushing about her fashion designing gig, showing off her latest creations like they were pure magic while still asking about my stay in The United States. She had this way of talking about her work that made it sound like the most exciting thing on the planet.

After a little chat, I hurriedly went to the guest room bathroom and took a shower feeling the energy drain out of me slowly. I wasn't in a rush to see my old room again just yet. There was a lot of time to spare and I preferred to do it while I was alone at home without mom's pestering gossip.

Speaking of gossip... I ran out after the getting ready to meet with mom again.

We settled in the living room, catching up on old times. Mom had a twinkle in her eye as she shared the latest neighborhood gossip.

"You won't believe what happened while you were away," she said, excitement lacing her words. She leaned in, as if sharing a juicy secret. "Agnes, you know, our oh-so-rude neighbor? Well, karma finally caught up with her. She lost her house and her job!"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the poetic justice.

Mom continued, "She got scammed big time. Fell for some get-rich-quick scheme. Poor Agnes had to pack her bags and leave Monaco." We both shared a wicked grin at that.

"Is that really what we should grin at, sweet mother?" I laughed as I teased her hair, twisting it with my indexes.

She protested, "You were loving the tea just a minute ago." She'd be me fluent with modern expressions I noticed and I could but smile at that. There was a bit of silence for a while.

"Guess what, though?" Mom added with a sly smile. "Some of the folks who left Monaco moved to our neighboring country, France, and other started new businesses. Martini, Diallo, Jean-Claude... they all moved."

My eyes shot open in surprise,"Jean-Claude finally moved? " She nodded." That's amazing. How'd he do it? "

"His girl, Tia, linked him up with the Prince."

"Get outta here, Mom" I scoffed but she was dead in serious.

I gasped "The Prince? Oh my God isn't he only the hottest guy? I've had the BIGGEST crush on him-"

"Ok, ok, Troye Sivan. Hold it there." she hushed me. I was a bit thrown aback that she even knew who Troye was but I decided I was done with the teasing for a bit so I said nothing about it. "Did you not notice the name I used in the expression?"

"Ok, mom, snap out of it, you're 35 please stop. Plus you've never been that cool." I mocked.

She scoffed and nudged me hard in the shoulder and I laughed. She pointed to the bustling street outside, where a charming bakery named "La Pâtisserie de Paris" had taken root. Across the street was a trendy hair salon called "Chez Beauté." And just down the corner, there was a pet accessories shop named "Le Chien Chic."

"Those belong to Corrado, Gabriel and Massimo." she added. We shared a chuckle, making up stories about the 'brave souls' who embarked on these new ventures. It seemed like our neighborhood had turned into a mini France right here in Monaco.

Amid our laughter, I noticed a stack of delivery boxes cluttering the living room.

With an exaggerated sigh, I turned to Mom, "You really need to hire a delivery organizer, Mom. This place is starting to look like a storage room."

She smiled and handed me an apple from the table in the center of the living room. "You're right, but you know what? How about you be my little helper today?"

I nodded, taking a bite of the apple as I began to move the boxes, one by one, into her tailoring room. It felt good to be back, helping out and making our home feel even cozier.

As we worked together, we chatted about my time away and her life in Monaco. It was just like old times, with a dash of excitement from the changing neighborhood dynamics and a sprinkle of mischief in our storytelling.

I smiled at the happy thought of our reconciliation and imagined the fun days ahead.

Now I could live out again. And only a matter of time before we were together again.

Life had never felt easier, now, what could possibly go wrong?