The first light of dawn crept into the room. I turned my head slightly and gazed at the man sleeping beside me. Morning light traced the contours of his face, every feature absolutely perfect. It was the kind of face that had captivated me from the very first glance.
The way Jude and I met was something straight out of a storybook. I was at a bar, cornered by a group of pushy guys who wouldn't take a hint. I was seconds away from shoving them off with a cocktail glass when Jude appeared. On instinct, I slipped into the damsel-in-distress act, tears at the ready.
We got to know each other and slowly fell in love. It wasn't until later that I found out he wasn't just charming—he was also the sole heir to one of the wealthiest families in the city. But our different backgrounds never got in the way. I never felt the need to suck up to him, and Jude never threw his status in my face.
After three years together, we got engaged with everyone's blessing—family and friends alike. Our wedding was set for early the following month. Every day that passed brought me closer to what felt like forever.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed Jude was already awake. His long lashes fluttered, and then he slowly opened his eyes.
“Why didn't you wake me?” he murmured, his voice soft.
“You're probably hungry,” he added before I could answer, already tossing off the covers and climbing out of bed.
Jude had been raised in luxury, a gentleman through and through. He was born into privilege, and it showed. He wasn't the type to bother with everyday chores. But for me, he made exceptions—day after day, year after year. He insisted on making breakfast himself.
He wasn't much of a cook, but the man could make oatmeal. It was always perfect—soft, warm, and comforting. Every time he made it, I couldn't help but finish every last bite.
In the days that followed, Jude set aside all his work and threw himself entirely into planning our wedding. The flowers, the desserts, the invitations, the venue—he handled it all. He took care of every little detail without putting any of it on me.
Even when I was choosing my wedding dress, the store attendants couldn't help but whisper, “In all my years, I've never seen a groom more invested than the bride. He notices every detail—the hem, the neckline, the lace.”
Jude heard them and leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “My Elia deserves the most beautiful wedding dress,” he whispered. “And she's going to be the most radiant bride.”
I smiled back at him, feeling light and happy. Everything was falling into place perfectly.
Then, out of nowhere, just three days before the wedding, Jude suggested we postpone it.
“Postpone the wedding? Just like that?”
“Did something happen?”
Jude lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his pensive face. “There was an unexpected situation. I need to head to Paris for an art exhibition, and I won't be back for a while.”
I didn't press. I'd never meddled in Jude's business. Besides, a slight delay to the wedding wouldn't hurt. But Paris... What a fascinating city it must be.
The day after Jude left for Paris, I did the same, booking a ticket to follow him. People often thought I had it easy—that tying myself to Jude, a prominent figure in high society, guaranteed me a life of luxury and ease. But I never intended to rely on anyone.
I've always poured myself into my love of finance, achieving modest but meaningful success through my own efforts. Not long ago, a leading company in Paris extended a tempting job offer to me. Accepting it would have meant uprooting my life to another country for years. With our wedding on the horizon, the thought of being separated from Jude for that long didn't sit right with me. After a lot of back-and-forth, I politely turned it down.
But now, with nothing urgent tying me down, I decided to seize the opportunity—visit the company in Paris, broaden my horizons, and maybe even surprise Jude by showing up.
