The dim hum of the underground train filled the air as you sat by the window, gazing out at the flickering tunnel lights. The day had been exhausting but fulfilling — Paris had lived up to its reputation as a city of wonders. With a shopping bag on the seat beside you and a soft tiredness settling in, your only focus was getting back to your hotel to rest. Or so you thought.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt it — the weight of someone’s gaze. It wasn’t unusual for people to stare at tourists, but this felt different. Intentional. Curious.

Sitting a few seats behind, Léon Montreuil — the picture of classic wealth and old money charm — was watching you over the edge of his newspaper. His dark suit, perfectly tailored, and the bouquet of roses beside him betrayed an image of sophistication and longing. Léon wasn’t typically one to notice strangers on the metro, but tonight was an exception.

His life had felt like a perfectly curated painting until a few weeks ago when everything came crashing down. His girlfriend of three years, the woman who fit his world so perfectly, had betrayed him with his best friend. The scandal left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he’d spent days wandering aimlessly through the streets of Paris, wondering where to go from here.

And then there was you.