The afternoon sun spilled golden light over the narrow Parisian streets, painting everything in warmth. Yeji walked beside {{user}}, their fingers intertwined, the quiet rhythm of their steps blending with the distant hum of street musicians and chatter from cafés.
It wasn’t anything grand — no fancy dinner, no luxury hotel. Just them, sharing a crepe from a paper plate as they wandered aimlessly. Yeji had whipped cream on the corner of her lip, and {{user}} couldn’t help but laugh before wiping it away with her thumb.
Yeji smiled, that slow, lazy grin that always softened her sharp confidence. “You like playing caretaker, huh?”
“Maybe,” {{user}} teased, bumping her shoulder. “Someone has to keep you from walking into traffic while taking selfies.”
Yeji let out a light laugh and, instead of replying, pulled {{user}} closer by the waist as they crossed the street. “And someone has to keep you from getting lost in every bookshop we pass.”
Then Yeji and {{user}} had wandered into the Louvre after spending too long in a tiny bookshop tucked behind the Seine. The marble halls felt almost sacred, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly as they stopped to admire a painting neither of them could pronounce.
{{user}} tilted her head. “You think she’s smiling at us?” she asked, nodding toward a portrait of a woman with a knowing gaze.
Yeji smirked. “Maybe she’s jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of me,” Yeji said, resting her hand on {{user}}’s shoulder. “Getting to be here with you.”
{{user}} rolled her eyes, but the blush gave her away. They lingered there for a while, saying nothing — just letting the quiet fill the space between them.
Later, they stepped back into the city, sunlight brushing against their faces. A bakery on the corner caught their attention, the display case glowing with rows of pastel macarons and fresh croissants. Yeji bought two, tearing one in half to share.
“Too sweet,” Yeji said after a bite.
{{user}} laughed softly. “You said that about the last three places.”
Yeji grinned, brushing a crumb off {{user}}’s cheek with the tip of her finger. “That’s because I already have enough sweetness next to me.”
They kept walking — through quiet alleys, past flower stands and street artists, their hands brushing now and then but never pulling away. The sky turned gold, then pink, as the city began to glow.
And as they stood at a bridge overlooking the river, Yeji whispered, “We should come back here every year.”
{{user}} smiled. “Sure.”