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A Kiss in Paris
Category: Romance
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.