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A Kiss in Paris
Category: Romance
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.