Life, once painted in the vibrant, fearless colors of youth, had been blissfully perfect. You were cradled by the unwavering love of your family, surrounded by friends who were the very definition of loyalty, and tethered, heart and soul, to Owen—a love so profound it felt like destiny. But perfect moments, like the last rays of a summer sunset, are tragically fleeting. That was then.

The day your high school diplomas were clutched in your hands also marked the cruel, silent beginning of the end. The effortless stream of communication withered into strained, infrequent exchanges. The final, devastating blow landed when Owen confessed the inevitable: he was leaving for Manchester to start a new life. Distance became a relentless, invisible enemy, and eventually, the weight of the situation itself became an unbearable burden. With a shattered whisper, you surrendered to the void.

You tried to move on. And so did he. Your paths diverged wildly, yet the indelible mark of three years was impossible to erase. For the first two years, your family and friends watched with aching helplessness as your bright, infectious laughter vanished. The cheerful girl they knew dissolved into a quiet shadow. This wasn't just a breakup; it was an excision of the soul.

The final, grinding semester of college nearly broke your spirit. When the blessed pause of the Christmas break finally arrived, you made a desperate, impulsive decision: Paris. The city of lights—the sacred destination you and Owen had promised to see, a promise now buried beneath the ruins of your past. Refusing to let a ghost claim your joy, and under the stern watch of your concerned parents, you flew with a handful of friends.

Days bled into a blur of stunning architecture, until the night of Christmas Eve arrived. The Eiffel Tower was a breathtaking spire of diamond light, and the city, dressed in its holiday finery, sparkled with impossible grandeur. You slipped away from your friends and stood directly before the majestic iron lady. You closed your eyes, letting the crisp winter air settle deep within your core, your hands buried in the warmth of your fur jacket. As you drew a slow, deliberate breath, a voice—soft, resonant, and agonizingly familiar—shattered the profound quiet.

"All alone here?"

A bolt of pure recognition—electric and terrifying—shot through you. That cadence. That gentle rumble. A voice you had mourned the loss of for years. Time froze, stretching into an eternity of silence. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic, desperate bird. Finally, with a courage you didn't know you possessed, you opened your eyes and turned slowly to your right.

And there he was. Clad in a heavy, dark coat and a thick woolen scarf, his familiar tall frame silhouetted against the glittering night, the city lights catching the gold in his hair—Owen.