This is a ma vie en rose fic. It is my second fic ever written. I loved the movie and wish there were more fics written about it. This is set around 9 years after the movie ended. I feel it could be better, so if anyone would ever like to help please feel free to contact me. Happy reading!

Standing before the full-length mirror, smoothing my dress against my chest and stomach, I couldn't help but stare. I found myself doing it quite often, just staring and staring, my reflection staring back. Even then, at sixteen, I still saw myself as a small child, despite nearly being an adult. I would lift my chin, tilt my head back, and admire my jaw line and high cheekbones.

Granny would sit beside me and dust rouge on the apples of my cheeks, and tell me that with a little work and a lot of care, I could turn heads anywhere I went. I remember sitting next to her with my eyes shut as she taught me her trick for when her age caught up to her and she wished to be young again; it was her acceptance and curiosity that I so loved about her. I remember how she made me feel good inside, how she made me feel normal.

Even when Mama would lose her head, Granny would always be there to try to make things better. She taught me many things with few words, one of which was to love myself for who and what I was, and that if I did, the ones I loved would love me back. I wasn't always sure I believed her, but soon I would learn that she was right.

"Lu-ce." My brother nudged the door open carelessly, his hands in the air in annoyance. He took one look at me and glanced away, rolling his eyes and seeming shy. "You're not even dressed yet? We have to go."

"Ten more minutes," I told him calmly, covering my bra and slip with the dress.

He huffed some reply and scuffed his shoe against my floor.

"Hey, stop it," I shouted, using my foot to push his away. "Has Zoe left yet?"

"Yes." He paused. "Are you wearing that?"

Something in his voice made me concerned. I looked up at him, really looked at him, for the first time that day. He had been crying. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's just that it's a little…"

"Yes?" I asked him. "Tell me. It's a little what?"

He ran a hand down his mouth and sighed. There, in the pit of my stomach, a familiar feeling suddenly spilled into my entire system. The hair on the back of my neck stood up on end, and my jaw clenched.

"Jean?"

"Nothing," he said finally, but then pointed to his wristwatch. "Hurry."

"Ten minutes," I said quietly, waiting. A small smirk found the corner of his mouth. Even during the worst of times, he always tried to be a big man, act like nothing in the world bothered him.

"Nine," he said, suddenly very serious, and then turned and rushed out of the room, fixing his tie.

Zoe's hand was cold and wet in mine. Her veil was down over her eyes. I hadn't worn a veil of my own, though neither had Mama.

Elisa, Zoe's daughter (named after Granny), cooed weakly in her husbands arms. It was almost as though she understood what was happening. I blankly watched her for a moment, and then turned my attention back to the casket as it was lowered into the earth.

Mama's mascara was running, and although she had a handful of tissues, she didn't bother to use them. She cried into Papa's shoulder, shaking violently.

It was strange, really, with as much daydreaming I did as a child that it should have seemed so unreal to me. I remember feeling as though I were only asleep, as if any moment I would wake and find Granny at my side, stroking my hair and comforting me with song. It wasn't long before the sobs rose in my throat, and the tears flowed freely.

Thom and Jean lead Mama back to the car; her knees had given out and she needed to rest. As Zoe and I stood there, Papa appeared behind us, wrapping an arm around us both. There was no hesitance in his actions, not like years ago. He kissed both our cheeks, nuzzled both our necks.

It sounds an awful thing to say, but Granny's illness and ultimately her death brought us closer together than ever before.

Eventually even Zoe left with her husband and Elisa. At that point, Mama was in the front seat, a cigarette in her hand. Papa waited patiently outside while Thom and Jean sat quietly in the back seat, their ties loosened and cuffs undone. They were waiting on me, again, but wouldn't dare say so.

I tried to recall the song about angels she sang to me so many years ago, but I could not, and I remember feeling awful. I rushed back to the car and rode home silently, my mind a mess. It wasn't until the will was read that I everything really hit home. As it turned out, Granny left everything to us, with a particular stash of money left solely for me; to be used in whatever manner I so chose when I turned 18.

I remember an intense feeling inside, sort of a tingling sensation that started in my stomach and made my entire body warm. Could it be? I wondered. Could it really be? Had my Granny actually left me a sum of money, which only I could use, and on anything I desired? It occurred to me then that there are many things in life that you cannot change, such a death, but that there were certain things I could change about myself.

The name 'Ludovic' means 'famous fighter.' I remember thinking what a mistake of a name that was for me, at least until I found out what it meant. Looking back on how severely stubborn I was growing up, I think that it would have been the perfect name for me, had I been a boy. But the truth is I'm not a boy.

I never was a boy.