The summer sun poured over the cobblestone streets of Paris, bathing the city in golden hues as you strolled leisurely toward the crosswalk. Your camera hung loosely around your neck, and the soft hum of life in the city surrounded you—a street musician playing the accordion, the chatter of tourists, the faint clinking of coffee cups from a nearby café. Paris was everything you’d dreamed of, and more.

As you waited at the corner for the light to change, your gaze wandered, taking in the elegance of it all. That was when you saw him. He walked with the effortless confidence of someone who owned the world—or at least this part of it. His crisp white shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the sunlight highlighting the sharp planes of his jaw and the unruly dark hair that looked like it had been styled by the wind itself. Cargo pants hung low on his hips, casual yet refined in a way only someone with absurd wealth could pull off.

You froze, your breath hitching. He was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made the world seem to pause for a second longer just to admire him. Your heart leapt in your chest as your eyes locked onto him, and suddenly, the sounds of the city faded into the background.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. The heat of the pavement, the distant honking of a car—all of it vanished as your entire existence narrowed down to this one man crossing the street with casual grace. Then, reality came crashing back in the form of screeching tires.

You barely had time to process the sound before a speeding car came into view, barreling toward the crosswalk at an alarming speed. The driver was an older man, his face twisted in a reckless grin as if he were testing the limits of his engine on a racetrack rather than the quiet streets of Paris.

Panic set in as you realized you were still standing in the middle of the crosswalk, your feet rooted to the spot where you’d seen him. Every instinct screamed at you to move, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. It was like your mind was stuck replaying the sight of him over and over again, a dangerous distraction that could cost you your life.

Before you could even register what was happening, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you out of harm's way in one swift, decisive motion. The world blurred as you were yanked backward, your heart slamming against your ribs as the car sped past, the rush of air whipping against your face.

“Mon Dieu,” a smooth, accented voice murmured close to your ear. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, mon ange?” Your head snapped up, and there he was.