Chapter 3 A collision of the past and present

Eva had spent the rest of the evening convincing herself that Paris was big enough for both of them. It had been a decade, after all. She could go about her life, take her photographs, and live without running into Nathaniel Leclair again.

And yet, as fate would have it, the very next morning, Paris proved her wrong.

The sun was still rising when Eva stepped into Café Laurent, a charming little spot she had once frequented. The scent of freshly baked croissants and rich espresso filled the air, mingling with the hum of quiet conversations. The place had hardly changed since she'd last been there, and for a moment, nostalgia hit her like a wave crashing against the shore.

She ordered a café au lait and a buttered croissant before settling into a corner table, her camera resting beside her. She planned to spend the morning wandering the streets of Montmartre, capturing the essence of old Paris.

Just as she took her first sip, the door chimed. The sound was ordinary, something she wouldn't have paid attention to-until she looked up.

And there he was.

Nathaniel Leclair.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit, his presence commanded attention even in the relaxed atmosphere of the café. His sharp jawline was still as striking as she remembered, his dark eyes scanning the room with an air of confidence that made her stomach tighten.

Eva's first instinct was to look away, to pretend she hadn't seen him. But it was too late.

His gaze landed on her.

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression-surprise, maybe even hesitation. Then, just as quickly, his face hardened into the unreadable mask he had perfected over the years.

She braced herself as he approached her table.

"Eva," he said, his voice smooth, deep.

She refused to let him see how his presence affected her. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee, willing herself to stay composed.

"Nathaniel," she replied coolly.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," he said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"That makes two of us."

A tense silence settled between them, the weight of their past hanging heavy in the air. Eva refused to be the first to break it.

He glanced down at her camera, then back at her. "Still chasing photographs?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Still chasing power?"

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Some things never change."

Eva set down her cup. "If you're expecting small talk, you'll be disappointed. I have nothing to say to you."

"Then why do I get the feeling you have a lot you'd like to say?"

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table. She had spent years trying to forget him, to erase the pain he had caused. And now, here he was, standing before her as if he had any right to disrupt her world again.

She exhaled sharply. "What do you want, Nathaniel?"

"I was getting coffee. I didn't expect to see you here."

She studied him, searching for some trace of the boy she had once known. But he was gone. In his place stood a man who had built walls even higher than the ones she had constructed around her own heart.

"Well," she said, pushing back her chair. "Now you have. Enjoy your coffee."

She grabbed her camera and turned to leave. But just as she brushed past him, his voice stopped her.

"Eva."

Something in the way he said her name made her freeze.

Slowly, she turned her head.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if things had been different?"

Her breath caught.

She knew exactly what he was asking.

If they hadn't walked away.

If they had fought harder.

If love had been enough.

But she refused to let herself go down that road.

"No," she lied, meeting his gaze head-on. "I don't."

Nathaniel held her stare for a moment longer before exhaling through his nose. He gave her a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

"Take care, Eva."

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the counter.

She stood there for a second, heart hammering, before pushing through the door and stepping out onto the Parisian streets.

The city greeted her with its usual charm, the sounds of distant violin music and the chatter of tourists filling the air. But for the first time since returning, Paris didn't feel like an escape.

It felt like a battlefield.

Later That Evening

Eva wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the Musée d'Orsay, her camera slung over her shoulder. The museum was nearly empty, the usual crowds having dispersed as closing time approached. She found solace in the quiet, letting herself get lost in the artwork.

She stopped in front of a Monet painting, the colors swirling together in soft, dreamlike strokes. She lifted her camera, framing the shot-

And then she heard his voice again.

"You always did love impressionist art."

Her grip on the camera tightened. She turned slowly, and there he was.

Nathaniel stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking impossibly composed.

Eva let out a humorless laugh. "Are you following me now?"

"I have a meeting with an investor," he said smoothly. "Didn't expect to find you here."

"Funny, that's the second time you've said that today."

His lips twitched, but he didn't reply. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze drifting to the painting before them.

"For what it's worth," he said, voice quieter now, "I never wanted things to end the way they did."

She swallowed, forcing herself to stay steady. "That's where we're different. Because I don't regret walking away."

His jaw tightened.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, just as the museum's closing announcement echoed through the halls, he let out a slow breath.

"I'll see you around, Eva."

And this time, when he walked away, she didn't stop him.

But as she stood there, staring at the painting that had once brought her peace, she realized something.

No matter how much distance she put between them, no matter how much time had passed-

Nathaniel Leclair was still the only man who had ever truly unsettled her.

And she hated that he still had the power to do so.