The moment I stepped outside the airport, Paris felt different.
I wasn't sure how else to describe it.
Every city had its own rhythm.
Its own personality.
Its own way of moving.
Paris felt elegant.
Even the air seemed different.
Cooler.
Lighter.
As if the city itself carried centuries of stories hidden behind every building and street corner.
For several seconds, I simply stood there with my suitcase while staring at everything around me.
People moved past speaking languages I couldn't understand.
Luxury cars waited outside the terminal.
Tall glass buildings reflected the afternoon sunlight.
Everything looked unfamiliar.
Yet beautiful.
Beside me, Liora looked as though she had consumed enough energy drinks to power an entire city.
Her eyes moved everywhere at once.
"Evelyn."
"Hm?"
"We are actually in Paris."
I laughed.
"Apparently."
She turned dramatically toward me.
"Stop saying apparently."
"It's becoming a habit."
"You are standing in another country."
