(Yvette POV)
Paris mornings always smelled like bread.
Even before the sun had fully risen over the rooftops, the city carried that soft, warm scent of bakeries opening their doors and ovens beginning their work for the day.
Normally it was comforting.
Today it only reminded me of yesterday.
The bakery.
Joseph sitting across from me.
Brent joining us minutes later.
The strange gravity that had formed around our table as if the air itself had realized something important had changed.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my small apartment.
My phone rested on the bedside table.
Silent.
For once I was grateful for that.
Because if it buzzed, I wasn't sure which name I was more afraid of seeing.
Joseph.
Or Brent.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.
This is ridiculous.
Two men sharing pastries with me shouldn't feel like the center of the universe shifting.
And yet it did.
Joseph had been… different yesterday.
Quieter.
But stronger in that quiet.
