Five years || Timothée Chalamet

Timothée held Dahlia's hand tightly as they walked through the cobblestone streets of Bordeaux. The late afternoon sun bathed the city in golden light, casting long shadows across the charming cafés and boutique shops. Dahlia skipped happily beside him, her curls bouncing with each step, while Timothée's heart swelled at the sheer joy radiating from her.

They arrived at a small ice cream shop nestled on a quiet corner. The scent of freshly made waffle cones wafted through the air as they stepped inside. Dahlia's eyes widened at the array of flavors displayed in the brightly lit counter.

"Look, Dad!" she exclaimed, pointing to the colorful assortment. "There are so many flavors!"Timothée laughed as he crouched down to her height. "Yes, jolie fille. What flavor do you want to try?"

Dahlia pressed her face against the glass, her little finger moving back and forth as she debated her options. "Je veux... fraise et pistache!" she declared with a decisive nod.

Timothée smiled, standing to place the order. "Une fraise et pistache pour elle, et je prendrai chocolat noir," he told the server. As they waited for their cones, he glanced down at Dahlia, who was now swinging her stuffed animal in a playful rhythm.

When they stepped outside, each holding their ice cream cones, Dahlia took a big lick and giggled. "C'est si bon!" she exclaimed, her lips already tinged with pink from the strawberry.

Timothée laughed, his own ice cream forgotten as he watched her. "Tu sais, Dahlia, tu es la personne la plus mignonne que j'ai jamais rencontrée."

She looked up at him, her cheeks puffed out from a big bite of ice cream. "Merci, papa," she said sweetly, the word papa rolling off her tongue naturally, as if she had been saying it all her life.

Hearing her call him papa felt like a dream. He knelt down again, brushing a stray curl away from her face. "Dahlia, tu sais que je suis très content d'être ici avec toi, n'est-ce pas?"

She nodded, licking her cone again. "Moi aussi, papa. Tu es drôle."

Timothée laughed, his heart lighter than it had been in years. They strolled through the city, pausing occasionally to admire street performers or peek into shop windows. Dahlia chattered away about her favorite cartoons and toys, her words a mix of innocence and curiosity that captivated him.

As they walked past the Garonne River, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the water, Dahlia tugged on his hand. "Papa, est-ce que tu vas rester ici avec moi et maman ?"

The question caught Timothée off guard, and he stopped walking, crouching down again so he could look her in the eyes. "Dahlia," he began softly, "Je veux être avec toi autant que possible. Je ferai tout pour que cela se réalise. Mais je vis à New York et j'y travaille. Mais je ferai de mon mieux pour passer du temps avec toi."

Dahlia tilted her head, her expression serious for a moment before she smiled. "D'accord. Je te montrerai mes jouets quand nous rentrerons à la maison!"

Timothée grinned, hugging her tightly. "bien sûr, ma jolie."

As they made their way back toward Rhia's house, Timothée's mind was already racing with plans. He needed to mend things—not just with Dahlia, but with Rhia as well. For Dahlia's sake, he had to prove that he could be the father she deserved and the person Rhia could trust again. One step at a time, he told himself. For now, he was just grateful for this precious first day with his daughter.

The sun was dipping lower in the sky as Timothée and Dahlia made their way back toward Rhia's house. The streets of Bordeaux were quieter now, the evening calm settling over the city. Dahlia, her ice cream cone nearly finished, held tightly onto Timothée's hand, occasionally stopping to point out little things that caught her attention—whether it was a pigeon fluttering by or the colorful window displays of local shops.

Timothée smiled at her curiosity, marveling at how much he had missed in these five years. He had been living in a haze of regret and confusion, but seeing Dahlia—truly seeing her—was like waking up from a long, exhausting dream. He wished there had been more time, more moments like this.

They walked in comfortable silence, Dahlia now humming a little tune as she skipped beside him. Timothée's mind was still reeling from the afternoon. He had spent his whole life thinking about the career, the fame, the glitz and glamour, but now, with Dahlia by his side, everything else seemed so insignificant. She was what mattered.

As they approached the house, Timothée felt a knot in his stomach. He didn't know what to expect when he returned to Rhia's doorstep. Would she be angry with him for taking Dahlia out? Would she welcome him back, or would she shut him out again? The fear of rejection gripped him, but he pushed it aside. This was about Dahlia now. He could deal with everything else later.

They reached the door, and Timothée hesitated for a moment, looking down at Dahlia. She smiled up at him, her face still flushed with happiness from their ice cream outing.

"Tu veux que je t'ouvre la porte, papa?" she asked, holding up the key Rhia had given her earlier.

Timothée chuckled softly and nodded. "Oui, s'il te plaît, ma belle."

Dahlia ran ahead, unlocking the door with a flourish, and they both stepped inside. The familiar, cozy atmosphere of the house enveloped them as they walked into the living room. Rhia was sitting on the couch, her expression unreadable as she looked up from the book she had been reading.

Timothée froze for a moment, unsure of how to start. Dahlia, however, was all smiles. She immediately ran over to Rhia, holding up her empty ice cream cone. "Maman, papa et moi, on a mangé de la glace!" she exclaimed, clearly proud of her outing.

Rhia smiled faintly, though there was a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. She stood up, walking over to Dahlia and ruffling her hair. "Ça a l'air délicieux, ma chérie. Alors, comment s'est passé votre sortie?"

Dahlia nodded enthusiastically, talking a mile a minute about everything they had seen, the ice cream, the birds, the trees. Timothée watched her with a sense of awe—how easily she had accepted him, how effortlessly she had embraced him as her father. It was more than he could have hoped for in this first meeting.

Rhia, still standing nearby, looked at him, her gaze a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "How did it go?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

Timothée took a deep breath. "It went... well," he said slowly, his voice soft. "She's incredible, Rhia. I never imagined this—imagined her. But now that I've met her, I can't let her go again."

Rhia's expression remained unreadable, but she nodded, biting her lip. "I didn't want her to get hurt, Timothée. She's been through enough without—without all this chaos."

Timothée's heart clenched. He could hear the years of pain in her voice, the fear of what his reappearance could bring. He knew he had no right to ask for her forgiveness, but he had to try.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "For everything. I know I don't have the right to ask you for anything, but I swear I'll do whatever it takes to make things right—for Dahlia, for you. I can't change the past, but I can be here now."

Rhia looked at him for a long moment, as if weighing his words. Finally, she sighed and walked over to the window, looking out at the fading light. "You have to understand, Timothée. This isn't going to be easy. Dahlia's life—my life—was fine without you. I wasn't sure I was ready for this, for you, to be part of her life again."

Timothée's heart sank, but he nodded. "I know. And I'm not expecting everything to be okay overnight. But I'm here, Rhia. I'm here now."

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Dahlia, content with her ice cream and the attention from both her parents, was already half-distracted by her toys again. The silence between Timothée and Rhia was heavy, but for the first time, it felt like there was a chance—small, fragile—but a chance for them to rebuild something. For Dahlia's sake, for their sake.

Rhia finally turned back to him, her expression softening. "We'll take this slow, okay? For Dahlia."

Timothée gave a small, relieved smile. "Slow is all I ask for."

With that, he sat down next to Rhia, and the three of them shared a quiet, tentative moment together. In that small, fragile moment, there was a sense that—despite everything—their story wasn't over yet. It had just begun.