Evan leaned against the soft headboard of a small boutique hotel in Le Marais, the windows cracked open to let in the muted Parisian night—the echo of laughter from a nearby wine bar, a dog barking in the distance, and the faint hum of the city still breathing.
He had smiled more today than he had in weeks.
But still… the emptiness hadn't left.
It sat in his chest like something forgotten and important. Something he didn't want to look at too closely.
He opened his laptop. The familiar soft glow of his blog greeted him like an old friend. He uploaded the pictures—warm, rich tones of Paris. A street musician laughing with a child. The foamy heart on his coffee. Lena posing with a crooked peace sign in front of a metro sign.
Then he typed:
A City Full of Light
There's something strange about this place. The buildings whisper stories, the streets remember love, and even the air feels like it's known heartbreak.
I walked with no destination, took pictures of strangers, drank overpriced wine, and talked to someone who made me laugh.
But the truth is, even here, in a city made for romance and rebirth, I carry this weight inside me. I think I'm learning that healing isn't about forgetting. Maybe it's just about noticing beautiful things again.
More soon.
– E
He posted it.
Then closed the laptop.
The next morning, his phone buzzed furiously against the nightstand.
10 missed calls.
3 texts from Lena.
Lena: ARE YOU GHOSTING ME??
Lena: Get up, I have pastries.
Lena: Meet me at Pont Alexandre III in 30 minutes or I'll make friends with pigeons instead. They're more reliable than you.
Evan laughed, eyes still half-closed, and texted back:
Evan: On my way. Don't give my spot to a pigeon.
The sun hit the Pont Alexandre III in a golden blur when he arrived. Lena was leaning against the balustrade, oversized sunglasses on, and a paper bag of croissants in her hand.
"Thought you'd never show up," she said, tossing him one of the pastries. "You're lucky I don't hold grudges before 10 a.m."
"You're lucky I still don't know how to say no to people with food," Evan muttered, taking a bite.
"So I had another crazy idea," she said, brushing crumbs off her coat. "Let's get out of Paris for the day."
"To where?"
"Giverny. It's like a little dream. Monet's gardens. Paintings come to life. And there's a river. And flowers. And cheese."
Evan blinked. "You had me at cheese."
They hopped on a train, and within the hour, they were in Giverny—the town small and beautiful, straight out of an impressionist canvas. Lena was right. It did feel like a dream. The air smelled of wildflowers and soil after rain.
They strolled through Monet's gardens, paths winding between lilies and roses. Lena tried to pose like a painting; Evan took her photo, laughing. He didn't say it out loud, but in his mind, he thought Selene would've loved this.
They had lunch at a café by the water—simple bread, honey, and creamy camembert.
"You know," Lena said, licking honey off her thumb, "for a guy who sulks like a sad poet, you make surprisingly decent company."
Evan chuckled, raising his glass. "To sad poets and spontaneous trips."
Lena grinned.
They clinked glasses.
They sat outside the small café, sunlight slipping through the lace-like shadows of the trees. Evan sipped the last of his wine, while Lena poked at her half-finished slice of apple tart.
Her phone buzzed across the table. She glanced at the screen and smirked.
"Shhh," she whispered dramatically, leaning across the table. "It's my boyfriend. Let's pretend I'm somewhere I'm not supposed to be."
Evan grinned. "Technically, you are."
Lena pressed the phone to her ear and spoke sweetly, with a hint of playful sarcasm.
"Hii, so you finally remember me," she said, rolling her eyes at Evan and making a mock gagging face.
A few mumbled words came from the other end, and she stood up from her seat. "I'll be back before you miss me."
Evan gave her a lazy two-fingered salute.
She returned a few minutes later, swinging her coat over one shoulder.
"I'm so sorry to tell you this," she said, with a pout that wasn't entirely sincere, "but my crazy boyfriend wants me back in Paris."
Evan leaned back in his chair with a fake sigh. "So I'm going to get killed for stealing his girl?"
"Oh please," Lena said, waving her hand. "Sometimes I think he's married to his work and I'm just the side piece. In it for his handsome face, orgasm skills, and Paris—definitely Paris."
Evan burst out laughing, drawing a look from a nearby old couple. "You're absolutely unhinged."
"Why, thank you."
They paid the bill and made their way back to the station, walking side by side. By the time they reached Paris again, the city was washed in warm twilight.
As they stepped off the train, Paris greeted them with its familiar chaos—voices, wheels dragging across cobblestones, the scent of espresso and cigarette smoke hanging in the morning air.
Just beyond the gates, a tall man in a navy coat stood waiting—hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd.
Lena's face lit up.
"Julien!" she shouted, immediately dropping her bag and running to him.
She leapt into his arms with a kiss and a laugh, her energy wrapping around him. He smiled faintly and hugged her, steady but reserved.
Evan lingered behind, watching the reunion with a small smile tugging at his lips.
A moment later, Lena pulled away and turned, motioning toward Evan.
"This is Evan—the one I told you about."
Evan stepped forward and offered his hand.
"Nice to meet you."
Julien looked at him for a second before giving a polite nod and shaking his hand.
"Enchanté."
(Nice to meet you.)
It was brief, a little stiff—but enough.
Lena looped her arm through Julien's.
"We'll drop Evan at his hotel, then I'm all yours." she said, grinning.
Evan gave a light chuckle. "That's fair."
They sat in Julien's sleek black car, the air inside filled with soft jazz and the scent of leather seats. Lena talked animatedly in the front seat, recounting their trip—gesturing wildly, laughing, brushing crumbs off her coat as she went on about their café hopping and museum wandering.
Julien's fingers tapped the steering wheel lightly. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching Evan's.
« Evan, c'est quoi tes intentions avec Lena ? »
Evan, so what are your intentions with Lena?
Evan blinked, a little caught off guard, but kept his cool.
« Je suis juste un touriste. Elle m'a proposé de visiter Paris ensemble. »
I'm just a tourist. She offered to explore Paris together.
«Mais fais gaffe. J'ai pas beaucoup d'humour quand il s'agit d'elle. »
Just be careful. I don't have much of a sense of humor when it comes to her.
Evan looked out the window, letting the silence settle before replying—calm, unfazed.
« T'as pas besoin de t'inquiéter.»
You don't need to worry.
Julien's eyes darkened in the mirror.
Lena, catching the last of their exchange, raised her brows and let out a laugh.
"What just happened? Is this a fight over me?" she asked, amused, tilting her head between the two men.
Julien leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek with that same disarming grin.
"Non, mon amour. I was just telling him to take good care of you."
He looked at Evan through the mirror again. That smile didn't reach his eyes.
They pulled up outside Evan's hotel. The car rolled to a stop, Lena waved like nothing was weird.
"Au revoir, Evan!"
Evan stepped out, offered a nod, and shut the door. The car drove off.
He stood for a second, looking after them, then muttered to himself with a dry half-smile,
"What a strange, strange man."
Back in his hotel room, Evan dropped onto the bed. The room was dim, the city buzzing faintly outside his window.
He reached for his phone just as it lit up.
Lena: "Spending some time with bae will text you when I need your services."
Evan laughed—soft and tired—and tossed the phone aside.
He closed his eyes, willing sleep to take over.
But it didn't.
His thoughts drifted. Not to Lena, not to Julien.
But to a girl with wild hair, crescent moon necklace, and the kind of silence that still echoed inside him.
Selene.
She was the reason Paris still didn't feel quite enough.