Carla’s Stroke: Rose and Bérénice are devastated, the end is near… Their pain is immense (SPOILER – episode ahead)
Tragedy strikes the Auguste Armand Institute hard. In this devastating episode, Here It All Begins plunges its characters into an ocean of emotion and distress. What should have been a simple malaise for Carla turns into an absolute nightmare. Love, guilt, and fear intertwine in a deluge of tears and revelations. The walls of the Institute, silent witnesses to so much joy and passion, now resonate with the shock of tragedy: Carla has suffered a stroke.
It all begins the day after the wedding fiasco. Bérénice, devastated, wanders the corridors, consumed by remorse. The scene from the day before continues to haunt her: her refusal to marry Carla, the screams, the tears, then the inert body of her beloved collapsing in front of her. Since then, she hasn’t slept a wink. Each image comes back like a slap in the face. She blames herself terribly, convinced she plunged Carla into this state. Rose, also in shock, tries to keep her composure, but her face betrays worry. Constance, who stayed with Carla all night, brings some less than reassuring news: the young woman is in critical condition and has been rushed to the hospital in Arles.
The hours tick by in heavy silence. The news of the stroke spreads like a shock wave through the Institute. The students, distraught, gather in small groups, unable to find the words. Some blame themselves for not having seen the warning signs: Carla’s fatigue, her headaches, her exhaustion during the wedding preparations. Others, like Jim or Penelope, refuse to believe it. How could such a strong young woman, so full of life, have been struck down so brutally?
At the hospital, the atmosphere is stifling. Rose, sitting by Carla’s bed, squeezes the young woman’s hand, hoping for a sign, a breath, a flutter of an eyelid. Opposite her, Bérénice is devastated. The doctors have explained the situation with clinical coldness: the stroke was severe, the next 48 hours will be decisive. Any hope seems to hang by a thread. Carla’s silence, her livid face, give rise to a visceral fear. Bérénice whispers her name, imploring her to wake up, to forgive her, to give her another chance. But Carla remains motionless, trapped in her body.
Rose, in tears, tries as best she can to comfort Bérénice, but she herself is wavering. She thinks back on everything she’s said, her sometimes harsh words, her judgments about their relationship. Guilt eats away at her, as does helplessness. She realizes that, behind the arguments and tensions, Carla has always tried to exist, to be loved for who she is. And now that she’s lying there, unconscious, Rose realizes the immense void her absence already creates.
Meanwhile, at the Institute, classes are suspended. Teyssier, visibly affected, makes a rare departure from his intransigence: he allows everyone to leave to support their friends. Even he, usually so cold, cannot hide his pain. Behind his harsh words, he feels a sincere affection for his students. “Carla is a fighter, she will get back up,” he affirms with forced conviction. But his gaze betrays a worry he desperately tries to hide.
The hours pass, endless. Doctors multiply tests, loved ones hold their breath. The diagnosis is alarming: the after-effects could be serious. Rose and Bérénice, devastated, must face the unthinkable—and each experiences it in their own way. Rose tries to cling to reason, to medicine, to the possibility of a miracle. Bérénice, for her part, gradually sinks into bottomless distress. She talks to Carla, tells her about their memories, their plans, their laughter. She accuses herself, cries, promises to repair everything she has broken. Her love is both her strength and her burden.
A moment of hope arises when a slight reaction is observed. Carla’s finger moves, her heart reacts to Bérénice’s words. Rose jumps up, convinced that she is regaining consciousness. But the illusion lasts only a few seconds. Hope immediately fades, shattering like fragile glass. The doctors remain cautious. “It’s still too early to say anything,” they explain. The pain is becoming unbearable.
Constance, for her part, strives to support everyone. She becomes the pillar, the reassuring voice in the storm. Yet even she struggles to contain her emotions. She knows how much these young women have loved each other, supported each other, and built each other together. Seeing their story collapse so brutally upsets her deeply. She confides in Rose her fear of seeing Bérénice collapse as well. “She won’t hold on if Carla doesn’t pull through,” she says, her voice trembling.
Memories flood back, and so do regrets. Rose recalls Carla’s early days at the Institute, her fiery temperament, her way of living everything at a hundred miles an hour. She also thinks back to their arguments, to Carla’s fierce desire to be recognized, respected. “She always wanted to prove she could do it alone,” murmurs Rose, her gaze vacant. Bérénice, for her part, recalls their first meeting, their first kiss, the moments of complicity that gave meaning to her life. The contrast with the silence of the hospital is unbearable.
Night falls, heavy, oppressive. Outside, the rain begins to fall gently, as if to accompany Rose and Bérénice’s tears. In the room, one last hope remains: a flutter of eyelids, a deeper breath. The doctors bustle about, Constance squeezes Rose’s hand. “Wait… she’s reacting!” one of them murmurs. Hope is reborn, fragile, uncertain. Perhaps Carla hears their voices? Perhaps she’s still fighting?
But this episode promises no certainty. The viewer remains suspended between fear and hope, torn between tragedy and faith in a miracle. Rose and Bérénice, united in grief, understand that they will have to face together what life imposes on them. The future is hazy, uncertain. But one thing is certain: nothing will ever be the same again.
In this heartbreaking episode, the series aptly explores the fragility of life, the strength of bonds, and the power of love in the face of death. Carla fights, Bérénice collapses, Rose resists—three women bound by a shared grief and a shared hope.
