Mon histoire

Previously

…Then, a knock, tentative yet firm, echoed through the stillness. Her heart, a tightly wound spring, jolted. It was him. Julian. He stood on her doorstep, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand, their petals a riot of unpretentious joy. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, held a question, a gentle inquiry into the silence that had fallen between them. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep within her. “I was walking by, and I… I saw the