Selene's POV
It was one of those golden evenings in Paris—the kind where the sky bled orange and lilac over the wrought-iron balconies, and the scent of brewing coffee drifted through the open windows of our kitchen. I stood at the sink, rinsing a bowl of strawberries, when Antonio strolled in, tossing his keys into the wooden tray near the door with a loud clink.
"Long day?" I asked, glancing at him from over my shoulder.
He loosened the top buttons of his white shirt and leaned against the counter, watching me with a certain glint in his eyes. "Not too bad. Productive."
I turned off the tap, wiping my hands on a towel. "You've got that look," I said knowingly.
He tilted his head. "What look?"
"That I'm-about-to-drop-something-on-you look."
He chuckled, then reached into his satchel and pulled out a thin folder. "Okay, you got me." He set it on the counter. "Lille. Three days. A.S. Enterprises is hosting a strategic collaboration summit there, and I'm heading it."
My brow lifted slightly. "Lille? That's only two hours from here."
"Exactly," he said with a smile, stepping closer. "Which is why I was thinking you should come with me."
I raised an eyebrow. "Business trip plus me?"
"Why not?" He brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "It's been weeks since we've had time away from the usual. You've been working so hard at the hospital and your design studio… I thought a little change of pace could be good. We'd be in meetings during the day, but the evenings—dinners, old town strolls, the river—those are ours."
"You want me to tag along to your CEO meetings?"
"I want you to tag along to the life I'm building—with you in it. Besides…" he leaned in and whispered near my ear, "I miss seeing you in hotel robes."
I smacked his chest with a laugh. "You're impossible."
He shrugged. "And yet, irresistible."
I opened the folder. Inside was a printed itinerary, already highlighted.
"You called my shift coordinator again, didn't you?"
He just smiled smugly, confirming my suspicion. "Mira was happy to adjust your duties."
I shook my head in disbelief, my heart blooming with warmth. "You don't play fair, Mr. Reyes."
"I play for keeps," he replied.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, the busy world faded. Just the hum of Paris and the soft curve of his smile held me in place.
"I'd love to go," I finally said. "We haven't had time outside the city in a while."
His smile deepened. "I booked the hotel already. And there's a quaint riverside art district you might want to explore. Who knows—maybe a sketch or two will make it to Ayra's next design."
I leaned into his chest. "God, I love you."
"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss into my hair. "Now let's eat before we both end up late to bed… in the wrong way."
"Antonio!"
He grinned, grabbing the salad bowl. "You've got forty-eight hours to pack. I expect that sketchpad of yours and a few dresses you want to show off."
"And I expect chocolate croissants every morning."
"Done."
As the light dimmed into the violet shadows of Parisian twilight, something about this trip felt like more than a detour. It felt like another promise—just as steady and quiet as his love: constant, and ever unfolding.
Next day,
The road to Lille stretched ahead like a silver ribbon under the evening sky. We had chosen to drive instead of taking the train—Antonio said it gave us more privacy, and I didn't argue. Sometimes silence with him in motion felt more grounding than a thousand words. The hum of the engine, the occasional soft music playing in the background, and the comfort of his presence behind the wheel made everything else fade away.
I sat in the passenger seat, adjusting the hem of the long, flowing black dress I had finished just two nights ago. It shimmered subtly under the car's interior lights—satin with lace accents along the neckline and an open back that dipped elegantly. It was dramatic, but understated in the exact way I liked.
"You keep fidgeting," Antonio said, eyes still on the road but voice laced with a smile. "Nervous about the summit?"
I smirked. "Nervous you'll steal all the attention in that suit."
He laughed, deep and warm. "It's your design. If I steal attention, it's only because you made me look like a god."
"You always look like that," I muttered under my breath, pretending to fix my earring.
"Say that again?"
"Nothing." I turned to the window with a blush.
Truthfully, the suit did fit him like a second skin—midnight black, sharp lapels, a subtle sheen. The collar bore a tiny stitched detail only I could recognize—my initials, hidden like a secret promise inside the fabric. And he wore it with the kind of confidence that left my heart racing.
He glanced at me briefly, eyes softening. "You look… breathtaking. You know that?"
"I should," I teased. "You've only said it five times since we left."
"And I'll say it five more before dinner."
I chuckled, but his gaze lingered a little longer this time. "Seriously, Selene. You're glowing. You designed the dress, the suit—hell, this whole moment is yours."
I blinked slowly, touched. "It feels surreal."
"It's not surreal, love. It's what you've earned. What we've built."
We arrived just before twilight. The hotel, a historical chateau turned modern luxury, sat like a dream along the river's edge. As we stepped out of the car, I could feel the crisp evening breeze play with the fabric of my dress.
Antonio stepped beside me, adjusting the cuffs of his suit, then offered me his arm. "Shall we dazzle Lille tonight?"
I took his arm with a soft smile. "Let's start with dinner. Then maybe, we'll dazzle."
As we walked through the golden-lit foyer of the hotel, heads turned. We didn't try to command attention—but we held it effortlessly. Like two threads that were always meant to be stitched together.
He leaned down and whispered near my ear, "If you keep walking like that, I'll have to cancel tomorrow's conference and lock us in the suite."
My cheeks heated as I swatted his chest lightly. "Behave."
"I'm wearing a suit you made me. You really think I can behave?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop smiling.
And as we disappeared down the hallway together, hand in hand, I realized something—this wasn't just a trip or a getaway. It was a prelude to a life we were threading one elegant moment at a time.