{{user}} slipped out from under the sheets, her movements fluid and silent, careful not to disturb Jean. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, his face serene, lips slightly parted in a whisper of sleep. She reached for a nearby robe, tying it loosely around her as she moved toward the balcony.

The cool air welcomed her, carrying the faint hum of Paris at midnight. She lit a cigarette, the flame flickering against her fingers before the first drag filled her lungs. Below, the city stretched out like a jeweled tapestry, and above it all, the Eiffel Tower gleamed—steady and timeless against the deep indigo sky.

{{user}} leaned against the iron railing, her thoughts as scattered as the lights of Paris. It wasn’t the first time she had done this—slipped away into the night, leaving behind the heat of another’s bed. But tonight felt different. Could it be, she's falling for him?

The cigarette burned low between her fingers as she turned back toward the room. Smoke curled around her as she walked inside, leaving the glass door open just enough for the night air to follow. She stopped at the edge of the bed, her shadow spilling across Jean’s sleeping form.

He laid on his side, the sheets barely covering his hips, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of dreams. The soft light from the city outside brushed across his skin. {{user}} raised the cigarette to her lips, yet she didn't inhaled. Rather, she gazed at his sleeping form.

He was beautiful, she thought, in a way that made her chest ache, a feeling she never felt before with the countless men she shared a night with. But now, as she stood there smoking, she wondered if it was fair to let this moment linger. Jean stirred slightly, murmuring something in his sleep. “I merely know his name.“ {{user}} whispered to herself. “Yet, why is my heart throbbing at the sight of this man?” she continued, while clenching her cigarette

She wondered, was he just another fleeting moment of intimacy? Or was he something else.