Three months Later
In that time, he'd drifted through cities like Avignon, Nice, Bordeaux—camera slung across his shoulder, coffee in one hand, and a quiet ache in his chest. The blog was doing well. His photos were getting noticed. He even made some new friends. But Selene…
Selene became a memory. A soft, almost unreal one. Like a song you loved once but don't hum anymore.
He had convinced himself it was all just a magical moment. Something fleeting. Beautiful, but not meant to stay.
Lyon, Early Morning
Evan stood near the fountain at Parc de la Tête d'Or, his camera in hand, sipping lukewarm coffee from a paper cup. The park was quiet—just a few joggers, the occasional cyclist, and the golden light of early morning casting soft shadows through the trees.
A young couple approached him, smiling.
« Excusez-nous, vous pouvez nous prendre en photo ? »
"Excuse us, could you take a picture of us?"
Evan gave a polite nod and smiled.
« Bien sûr. »
"Of course."
The couple posed in front of the fountain. He clicked a few shots, giving gentle direction like a pro.
« Un peu plus à gauche... oui, parfait. »
"A little more to the left... yes, perfect."
The girl giggled and whispered something to her boyfriend. Evan lowered the phone and smiled softly.
« Voilà, c'est fait. »
"There you go, all done."
The boyfriend leaned in to check the pictures.
« Elles sont super ! Merci beaucoup ! »
"They're great! Thank you so much!"
Evan handed them back the phone.
« Avec plaisir. Profitez bien de votre journée. »
"My pleasure. Enjoy your day."
As they walked away, Evan lifted his own camera again, wanting to catch the light reflecting off the leaves.
Then—
his lens landed on someone sitting on a distant bench.
He stilled.
Zoomed in.
A familiar face
Writing in a notebook. Alone. Lost in her thoughts.
The world around him blurred.
For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
Her hair was tied up messily. She wore that same soft sweater he remembered. She didn't look up.
Was it really her?
He walked slowly like someone approaching a ghost. A gust of wind lifted the edge of her notebook page.
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
And the world went completely, terrifyingly silent.
Evan stood there, his chest rising with a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Words? Gone. Time? Slowed. That moment? Eternal.
He had told himself he had moved on.
He had laughed, drank, wandered streets, kissed strangers, chased cities, and slept under unfamiliar ceilings.
He had told himself that if he ever saw her again—
his heart wouldn't stutter.
His breath wouldn't catch.
His body wouldn't forget how to be still.
But there he was.
And there she was.
And his whole world, once again, tilted toward her.
Selene slowly stood up, her notebook still in her hands. Her eyes didn't leave his.
Neither of them spoke.
Evan took one hesitant step forward. Then another.
And when he was close enough to see the little smudge of ink on her fingers—he finally whispered, barely audible,
"Selene..."
Her lips parted as if she might speak, but no sound came out.