Aimée Villard, fille de France

On a chilly Easter Sunday, Aimée Villard rises before dawn, the wind still rattling the hills that cradle her modest farm at Genett. The house, built of stone and warmed by a deep hearth, hums with the routine of rural life: the red wooden clock ticks, the bread‑kneading trough sits ready, and a polished cherry table reflects the early light. As she moves through the kitchen and the sprawling orchard, the scent of wet earth mingles with the promise of a hard day’s work.

Within the same roof live Aimée’s mother, her father Pierre, her two younger sisters, and the little boy Jean, while the eighty‑year‑old grandfather mutters wisdom from his creaking chair. The family’s bonds are strong, yet the demands of harvest, the pressures of tradition, and the lingering shadows of the past weigh heavily on Aimée. Her quiet determination hints at a resilience that will shape not only her own future but the fate of those she holds dear.