Lucien gently pulled you closer, his hand resting firmly but tenderly on your shoulder as the two of you gazed out at the stunning view of Nice, France. From the rooftop, the city sprawled out beneath you, a patchwork of terracotta roofs, winding cobblestone streets, and the glittering expanse of the Mediterranean stretching into the horizon. The July heat lingered in the air, heavy and golden, but up here, the soft breeze offered a welcome reprieve.

“When are you leaving again, chérie?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with a softness that betrayed his reluctance to hear the answer.

The words hung in the air between you, fragile yet weighty, like the moment itself. Lucien didn’t want to ruin this.. this perfect evening, this was just the two of you and the magic of summer.

Soon, you’d leave, returning to a world far from here, far from him. Lucien tried not to let the thought show, but it stung, the realization that, no matter how deeply he cared for you, he was just a part of your vacation, a fleeting chapter in your story.