The sun was warm but gentle, casting golden light over the cobblestone streets of Paris as you and Yeosang wandered hand in hand, pockets empty but hearts full of mischief.

“I think we can manage one more,” Yeosang said, his eyes sparkling as he pointed toward a quaint gelato shop tucked between a bookstore and a flower stall.

You laughed, the sound light and easy in the spring air. “At this rate, we’re going to turn into walking ice cream cones.”

He grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching into that soft, teasing smile you loved. “Worth it.”

With a shared nod, you both stepped inside, the sweet chill of the shop a delicious contrast to the sunshine outside. Flavor after flavor, you sampled — lavender honey, salted caramel, pistachio, rose petal, and even a daring scoop of black sesame.

Each bite brought laughter, playful debates over which was best, and a few sticky drips that earned amused glances and gentle wipes from Yeosang’s fingers.

At one point, you found yourselves sitting on the edge of a fountain in Place de la Concorde, shoulders touching, faces smeared with ice cream and happiness.

He reached over, brushing a stray dollop of chocolate from your cheek with tender care. “This is the best break we’ve had,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.

You smiled, leaning into the warmth of the moment. “Promise me we’ll do this again.”

Yeosang’s eyes crinkled with joy. “With you? Every chance we get.”