The smell of baked croissants and fresh jasmine drifted through the apartment as Aurélie stirred her coffee. She sat by the window in an oversized cream sweater, legs curled up on the couch, and a leather-bound notebook open on her lap.
Today marked one year since she signed that contract.
The contract that had changed everything.
The one that began with calculated terms and a deadline—twelve months, public appearances, no emotional attachments.
And yet here she was. Still married. Still in love.
But with no contract left to bind them.
Only choice.
Only devotion.
Only them.
---
Elio stepped into the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy, running a hand through his messy hair. He wore a soft gray T-shirt and sweatpants, looking nothing like the polished CEO the world saw.
Elio: "Is that the fifth cup?"
Aurélie: "Fourth. Don't exaggerate."
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
Elio: "Happy anniversary."
Aurélie: "Happy no-contract day."
He chuckled, sliding onto the couch beside her.
Elio: "I still can't believe it's been a year."
Aurélie: "I still can't believe you wore a pink tie at our wedding."
Elio: "You made me."
Aurélie: "You looked like a high-end flamingo."
Elio: "And you looked like the reason I forgot how to breathe."
She paused, looking up at him.
Even now, his words still made her heart stumble.
---
Later that afternoon, they headed to Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, a quiet green hill tucked in a corner of Paris that had become their favorite escape.
They brought a picnic. No assistants. No photographers. No obligations.
Just Elio, Aurélie, and a woven basket full of strawberries, baguette, and cheese.
They spread a blanket beneath a willow tree and lay side by side, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky.
Aurélie: "Do you ever think about how different things would've been if I said no?"
Elio: "Every single day."
Aurélie: "Would you have found someone else?"
Elio: "Probably. But I wouldn't have found you."
She turned her head.
Aurélie: "And you still would've run your empire, built your hotels, made your billions."
Elio: "Maybe. But I wouldn't have learned how to laugh at 2 a.m. I wouldn't have learned how to dance in the kitchen. I wouldn't have felt what it's like to come home and know someone's heart is waiting for you."
Her throat tightened. She took his hand.
Aurélie: "So... what now? We've ended the contract. We've passed the one-year mark. No more pretending. No more time limits."
Elio smiled slowly.
Elio: "Then we start over."
She blinked.
Aurélie: "Start over?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. Inside was a new contract—but this one was different.
No clauses. No bullet points.
Just two words handwritten across the top:
"No expiry."
Underneath, a single line:
"Do you choose me again—without force, without fear?"
Aurélie looked up, heart pounding.
Elio: "This time, I'm not asking you to be my wife on paper. I'm asking you to be my partner. My best friend. The person I wake up to, not because we agreed—but because we want to."
She covered her mouth, tears forming.
Aurélie: "Is this your version of a second proposal?"
Elio: "I never did it properly the first time. No rings, no speech. Just panic and business terms."
Aurélie: "I did kind of blackmail you for a better apartment."
Elio: "You did. And I've never loved anyone more for it."
She laughed, even as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Then she picked up the pen he offered.
Aurélie: "You already know my answer."
She signed her name.
No lawyers. No fine print.
Just love.
---
The evening turned golden. They walked hand in hand down the quiet streets of Montmartre, stopping for gelato, watching street performers, and sharing small whispers of memories they hadn't told anyone else.
At one point, Elio stopped in front of a small bookstore. He pointed at the window.
A copy of a book sat proudly on display.
The title read:
"The Assistant Who Rewrote the Rules" — by Aurélie Moreau
Her cheeks turned red.
Aurélie: "I didn't know it was in stores already!"
Elio: "They launched early. I may have paid the clerk to move it to the front window."
Aurélie: "Elio!"
Elio: "It's my favorite book."
She looked at the cover—an illustration of a young woman in a Paris café, holding a pen, her heart wide open.
---
That night, they sat on their apartment balcony, city lights flickering beneath the stars.
Elio: "You changed me."
Aurélie: "I didn't want to change you. I just wanted you to see yourself... the way I saw you."
He reached for her hand.
Elio: "You made me want to become someone worthy of that gaze."
A long pause.
Aurélie: "Do you think we'll still be like this in ten years?"
Elio: "No."
She looked at him, surprised.
Elio: "I think we'll be even more. Stronger. Messier. But still choosing each other. Every single day."
She leaned into his chest, closing her eyes.
Aurélie: "Then let's write a new kind of contract."
Elio: "Go on."
Aurélie: "Clause One: Breakfasts in bed on Sundays."
Elio: "Agreed."
Aurélie: "Clause Two: No going to sleep angry."
Elio: "Even if you're wrong and I'm right?"
Aurélie: "Especially then."
They laughed.
Aurélie: "Clause Three: No matter how hard it gets—we stay."
Elio nodded, pulling her close.
Elio: "And Clause Four: We never forget how it began... but we never stop writing what comes next."
---
The wind carried the sounds of Paris through their window: music, laughter, the hum of stories in motion.
But inside, beneath soft blankets and warm hands, two souls had already found their forever.
No contracts.
No pretenses.
Just love—lived and chosen—again and again.