Bonjour, New Life

The scent of freshly baked croissants and strong coffee had become my morning perfume, a far cry from the sterile, ink-stained air of my old office. Paris, oh Paris, you’d worked your magic on me. It had only been a few weeks since that fateful midnight encounter in Montmartre, a few weeks since Antoine Dubois had swept into my life like a rogue wave, pulling me from the wreckage of my old existence and into a dazzling, sun-drenched sea. And now, here I was, sipping my *café crème* at a small bistro table, the city buzzing around me, and Antoine’s hand resting warm and firm on mine.

“You are thinking,” he stated, his eyes, the colour of a summer sky after a storm, twinkling with amusement. He had a way of seeing right through me, a talent that both thrilled and unnerved me.

I smiled, a genuine, unrestrained smile that felt as natural as breathing now. “Just… marveling. At all of this.” I gestured vaguely with my free hand, encompassing the lively street, the charming architecture, the sheer, intoxicating *aliveness* of it all. “It’s so… different.”