Episode 1285 of Here It All Begins opens in a heavy and melancholic atmosphere. In the early morning, the sun’s rays barely pierce through the steamy windows of the Auguste Armand Institute. In the kitchens, silence reigns—an unusual, almost oppressive silence. Jim, focused on his preparation, tries to mask the inner turmoil consuming him. After weeks of tension, he wants to believe that this day will mark a new beginning. A reconciliation. A long-awaited peace. But the Institute, as is often the case, is never kind to those who dream of peace.
The young man has carefully prepared for this moment. The night before, he spent the night perfecting a symbolic dessert, a dish inspired by his childhood memories, a tribute to lost sweetness. He poured his heart into it, convinced that this culinary gesture could repair what words could not heal. He wants to prove that he has changed, that his anger has subsided. Yet, behind this apparent calm, the wounds are still there, ready to reopen at the slightest word.
At the same time, Jasmine, visibly troubled, joins the brigade. Her gestures are precise but mechanical, her gaze often lost. Between her and Jim, the atmosphere remains tense. They pass each other without speaking, brush past each other without looking at each other. Memories of their last argument still hover, like shards of glass in a room too quiet.
Teyssier, true to himself, observes everything with a keen eye. He knows that the fragile balance of the Institute often rests on uncontrollable passions. And he enjoys provoking them, like a conductor playing on dissonance to bring out the truth.
— “Jim, your dish will be the first to be tasted today. I hope you’re not planning to seduce your audience with just good feelings,” he says sarcastically.
Jim clenches his fists, takes a deep breath, then gets back to work. He wants to prove his worth, no longer through rage, but through sincerity. This dish is his forgiveness in action. A bridge to those he’s hurt, a silent message: “I want to start over.”
But at Here It All Begins , emotions aren’t fixed with a quick whiplash or a pinch of sugar.
A little later, the tasting begins. The jury—Teyssier, Clotilde, and Olivia—sits down. The students watch, tense. Jim brings his dessert: a revisited citrus tart, a perfect balance between acidity and sweetness, between burning and soothing. Quite symbolic.
Teyssier tastes, impassive. Clotilde nods. Olivia, more emotional, seems touched. And for a moment, Jim believes it. He tells himself that maybe, this time, everything will be better. That the fleeting glances will turn into sincere smiles. But the illusion doesn’t last.
From the shadows, Jude watches the scene. He can no longer stand Jim’s double-dealing, this facade of goodwill that still hides unhealed scars. As the class leaves, he confronts him.
— “Do you think one dessert is enough to erase everything? To make you forget what you said?”
— “I’m doing what I can, Jude. I just want to move on.”
— “Then start by telling the truth.”
These words hit like a slap. And for Jim, it’s the beginning of the fall. Because this truth, the one he’s trying to escape, always comes back.
Meanwhile, Berenice tries to ease the tension. She sees Jim sinking deeper into his illusions and wants to help him open his eyes. But her own doubts prevent her from being objective. She, too, struggles with her wounds. Between her loyalty to her friends and the fear of being betrayed again, she wavers.
In the dining hall, the atmosphere is icy. Conversations revolve around rumors. Some think Jim and Jasmine might reconcile, others that all is already lost. Billie, true to form, observes with disarming lucidity:
“Love at the Institute is like a soufflé: it rises quickly, and falls even harder.”
And indeed, the metaphor is confirmed. In a scene of rare intensity, Jim finds Jasmine in the greenhouse. He still believes they can start all over again. He steps forward, his gaze full of emotion, and offers her a flower, a fragile symbol of their shared past.
— “I get it, Jas. I get that I hurt you. But I want to change. Just give me a chance.”
His words resonate sincerely. But Jasmine, despite the tears in her eyes, can no longer believe them. Too many wounds, too many silences.
— “Jim… it’s too late.”
The world stops around him. The sound of the wind in the leaves, the scent of the flowers, everything seems to fade away. He remains there, alone, in the middle of the greenhouse, his heart in pieces.
The criticism of this episode rests on this duality: hope and disillusionment. The writing aptly explores the complexity of human emotions, the difficulty of rebuilding oneself after having destroyed everything. The acting, of uncanny accuracy, gives this plot a depth rarely achieved in the series.
The nuanced staging plays on contrasts: the golden light of the kitchens against the shadows of the greenhouse, the sweetness of sugar against the bitterness of rejection. Each shot underlines the fragility of feelings, each look betrays a truth we don’t want to admit.
The underlying question is: can we really redeem ourselves, or is forgiveness just an illusion?
The end of the episode leaves the viewer reeling with raw emotion. Jim, alone, returns to the dormitory. He looks one last time at the photo hanging on the wall: him and Jasmine, smiling, carefree. He gently tears it down, then puts it in a drawer, like burying a memory.
In the hallway, Teyssier meets his gaze. Not a word, but a muted understanding. For he, too, knows the pain of regret.
The camera pans away, leaving Jim in the gloom, his hands covered in flour, his heart empty. The sound of a whip echoes in the distance—the sound of work, of resilience, but also of loneliness.
Thus concludes episode 1285 of Here It All Begins : poignant, sincere, and driven by writing of rare sensitivity. Jim believed in reconciliation. But at the Institute, as in life, some wounds refuse to heal. And sometimes, wanting to repair means reopening the wound.
