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~Zia~

The gentle wisp of Paris October air seeped through my black attire, a half-sleeved, A-line knee-length dress. My hair cascades in curtains of waves over my shoulder, a smile etched on my lip as I lift my cup, taking a sip of my flat white.

The sun had just set. Amber lights flickered one by one around us and above. The outdoor table Xavier and I got at this local coffee shop on the edge of the city reminds me of a romantic scene from the last novel I’ve read.

My husband, sporting a gray turtleneck, dark jeans, and leather jacket, stares back at me, green eyes mirroring the same eager adoration I’m giving him.

“Nervous?” my husband asked, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes scanning the hotel across the street.

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