The city woke slowly.

Muted bells rang in the distance. Somewhere down the narrow street, a baker opened his shutters and arranged golden croissants in the window. Paris, in all its timeless rhythm, moved like a quiet breath through the streets below.

Inside their suite, Sophie lay beneath a linen sheet, bathed in soft light. The warmth from the morning sun glowed across her skin as she blinked awake, her lashes fluttering against her cheek.

She didn’t move immediately. She only stared at the ceiling and listened.

There was something about mornings here — an elegance in the silence, like the world knew to be gentle. Beside her, Alexander was...