It was a chilly afternoon in Paris, and Gaesha walked hand in hand with Kent through the lively streets of Montmartre.
The air was crisp, and the neighborhood buzzed with energy—artists sat on corners, sketching with quick strokes, kids ran around laughing and chasing each other, and tourists snapped photos, their cameras clicking nonstop.
Gaesha's bright yellow sweater stood out like a sunflower, her dark hair bouncing loosely as she walked, her smile wide and warm.
Kent, bundled in a gray coat buttoned up to his chin, had a calm, happy look in his eyes, his face softened by the moment.
"This is just so nice, Kent," Gaesha said, giving their joined hands a little swing. "Just you and me, walking like this. It feels so good."
"Yeah, it does," Kent replied, nodding slowly, his voice steady. "It's a really good day, Gaesha."
"No, not just good," Gaesha corrected, her giggle light and bubbly. "It's a great day, Kent. The best kind of day. You're not thinking about work or anything, are you?"
"Nope, not at all," Kent said, his lips curving into a small smile. "Today's all about you, Gaesha. No work, no distractions."
"Aw, Kent, that's so sweet," Gaesha said, her cheeks turning a soft pink. "You're being all cute and romantic today."
"I'm not trying to be sweet," Kent said, his voice dropping softer, almost shy. "I'm just being honest with you."
Gaesha laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Honest, sweet—it's the same thing, you silly guy. You can't fool me with that serious face."
Kent chuckled, shaking his head. "Okay, maybe you're right. So, what's next for us today? Any big plans in that head of yours?"
"Oh, I don't know," Gaesha said, tilting her head playfully. "But I'm thinking coffee. Look, that café over there looks so cozy. What do you think?"
Kent glanced ahead, spotting the little café with its small round tables and warm lights.
"Yeah, looks nice," he said, pointing toward it. "Let's go."
"Yay!" Gaesha clapped her hands together, her excitement spilling over. "And I want cake, okay? A big, yummy slice of cake to go with my coffee."
Kent laughed, his eyes crinkling. "You and your cake obsession. It's always cake with you, Gaesha."
"Hey, it's who I am!" she said, grinning wide. "You know I'm all about the sweet stuff, Kent. Don't act surprised."
They crossed the street, their steps light, and found a table outside the café where the sun warmed their faces just enough to balance the chilly air.
Gaesha ordered a steaming coffee and a thick slice of chocolate cake, her eyes lighting up when the waiter set it down.
Kent, true to himself, stuck with a plain black coffee, no sugar, no fuss.
"Come on, Kent, you have to try this cake," Gaesha said, pushing the plate toward him with a hopeful look. "It's so good, I promise."
"No way," Kent said, shaking his head firmly. "You know that stuff's too sweet for me. I'll stick with my coffee."
"Please, just one little bite?" Gaesha leaned forward, her eyes big and pleading. "Do it for me, Kent. Just one tiny taste."
He sighed, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his smile.
"Ugh, fine, you win," he said, picking up the fork. He took a small bite, chewing slowly, his face thoughtful. "Okay, I'll admit it. It's pretty good."
"Ha! I knew it!" Gaesha clapped her hands again, her laugh loud and joyful. "I'm always right about cake, Kent. You should listen to me more."
"Sometimes you're right," Kent teased, leaning back in his chair, his voice light. "Don't get too cocky now."
"No, I'm always right," Gaesha shot back, sticking out her tongue playfully.
She leaned across the table and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, leaving a smudge of chocolate frosting behind.
"Messy girl," Kent said, grabbing a napkin to wipe his cheek, though his grin showed he didn't mind one bit.
"You love it, Kent," Gaesha said, giggling as she licked a bit of frosting off her finger. "Admit it, you like my messy side."
"Yeah," Kent said, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I really do, Gaesha. You're one of a kind."
Across the street, Claire stopped dead in her tracks, her red coat bright against the gray cobblestones.
She was walking with her friend Elise, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her posture stiff.
Her eyes locked onto Kent and Gaesha, so close at their little table, laughing and sharing cake.
Claire's face tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "That's him," she said, her voice sharp, like a knife cutting through the air.
"Who's that?" Elise asked, following Claire's gaze. She squinted across the street. "Oh, wait, is that Kent over there?"
"Yeah, it's Kent," Claire said, her eyes narrowing as she stared. "And he's with that girl."
Elise tilted her head, watching the couple. "The baker girl? Gaesha, right? She's kind of cute, Claire. They look happy."
"Cute? No way," Claire snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "She's a total mess. Look at her, all sloppy with that cake."
Elise shrugged, her voice gentle. "They seem happy together, Claire. Are you okay? You look upset."
"No, I'm not okay," Claire said, her voice low and bitter. "He picked her over me. Can you believe that?"
"But, Claire, you broke up with him," Elise said, frowning slightly. "That was, like, two years ago now, wasn't it?"
"I know that, Elise," Claire said, her jaw clenching. "But seeing them like this—it still hurts. It's like a punch to the stomach."
Without another word, Claire started crossing the street, her high heels clicking loudly on the pavement, each step sharp and determined.
Gaesha noticed her first, her smile fading. "Oh no, Kent," she said, sitting up straighter. "It's Claire. She's coming over here."
Kent turned his head, his expression shifting to one of annoyance.
"Oh, great. Claire," he muttered. "What does she want now?"
"Yeah, this is going to be trouble," Gaesha said, her voice small, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup.
Claire stopped right beside their table, her arms still crossed, her posture rigid.
"Hello, Kent," she said, her tone cold as ice. "Having fun over here?"
"Claire," Kent said, his voice flat, giving nothing away. "What do you want? We're kind of busy."
"Just thought I'd say hi," Claire said, her eyes flicking to Gaesha with a quick, sharp glance. "So, you're with her now? Really?"
"Yeah, I am," Kent said, leaning back in his chair, his tone steady. "Now, please, go away, Claire."
"Not even a proper hello for me?" Claire said, raising an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's kind of rude, don't you think?"
Gaesha shifted in her seat, trying to keep things light.
"Hi, Claire," she said, her voice soft but polite. "It's a really nice day out, isn't it? The sun's so warm."
"Nice for you, maybe," Claire said, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Gaesha. "Not so nice for me, thanks to you."
Gaesha blinked, confused. "Why not?" she asked, tilting her head. "What's wrong, Claire?"
"Because of you," Claire said, her voice sharp and accusing. "You stole him from me. That's what's wrong."
Kent shook his head, his tone firm. "No, Claire. I chose Gaesha. This isn't about stealing. It's about what I want."
Claire's eyes narrowed further, her gaze flicking between them.
"Her?" she said, pointing at Gaesha with a manicured finger. "Really, Kent? You're picking her?"
"Yes, really," Kent said, his eyes locked on Claire's, unflinching. "Gaesha's who I want. End of story."
"She's nothing," Claire said, her voice turning mean, almost a hiss. "Just some baker girl who's always covered in flour."
Kent's jaw tightened. "She's everything," he said, his voice strong and steady. "You, Claire? You're nothing to me anymore."
Claire's face froze, her eyes wide with shock.
"Kent! How can you say that?" she said, her voice rising. "You don't mean that. You can't."
"I do mean it," Kent said, his tone hard, leaving no room for argument. "I'm done with you, Claire. I've been done for a long time."
Gaesha reached under the table, squeezing Kent's hand gently.
"It's okay, Kent," she said softly, her voice calm. "She's just upset. Let's not make this worse."
"Let her be upset," Kent said, turning to Gaesha, his eyes softening. "I don't care what she thinks anymore. I'm with you."
Claire let out a cold, hollow laugh, her hands on her hips.
"You're going to regret this, Kent," she said, staring at Gaesha. "She's such a mess. You'll see."
"I love her mess," Kent said, his voice firm, his hand tightening around Gaesha's. "I don't want you, Claire. I want her."
Claire's face flushed red, her lips trembling with anger. She took a step back, her heels scraping the pavement.
"Fine," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm leaving Paris anyway. You'll miss me when I'm gone."
"Good," Kent said, his tone flat, unyielding. "Goodbye, Claire."
Gaesha looked up, her voice still kind despite Claire's anger.
"When are you leaving?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her tone. "I hope you have a safe trip."
"Tomorrow," Claire snapped, tossing her hair back. "I'm done with this stupid city and everyone in it."
"Have a safe trip, Claire," Gaesha said, her voice gentle, trying to keep the peace.
"Don't you dare talk to me," Claire shot back, pointing at Gaesha again. "You think you've won, don't you? You got him."
Gaesha shook her head, her eyes soft.
"No, Claire," she said quietly. "It's not about winning or losing. We're just happy. I hope you can be happy too."
Claire's eyes flashed with anger, her glare like daggers. She turned to Kent, her voice low and sharp. "This is your last chance, Kent. Me or her. Choose now."
"Gaesha," Kent said without a moment's hesitation, his voice clear. "It's always going to be Gaesha."
Claire let out a sharp huff, spinning on her heel so fast her red coat flared out.
"Fine. Goodbye," she said, storming off, her steps loud and angry on the cobblestones.
Elise hurried after her, calling out, "Claire, wait up! Come on!" Her voice faded as they disappeared around a corner, swallowed by the bustling streets.
Gaesha watched them go, her shoulders relaxing.
"She's really gone," she said, her voice soft, almost disbelieving. "Is that true, Kent? She's leaving?"
"Yeah," Kent said, his tone calm, a hint of relief in it. "Good riddance, honestly."
"She was so mad," Gaesha said, biting her lip, her eyes thoughtful. "I kind of feel bad for her, you know? She seemed really hurt."
"Don't feel bad," Kent said, squeezing her hand gently. "Claire's mean, Gaesha. She's always been like that. You don't owe her anything."
"I know," Gaesha said, looking down at her coffee, her voice quiet. "But it's still kind of sad, isn't it? Seeing her so upset."
"No," Kent said, lifting her chin so their eyes met. "You're mine now, Gaesha. She lost. That's her problem, not ours."
Gaesha's face broke into a small, warm smile, her eyes bright again.
"Yours," she said, her voice soft but sure. "I really like that, Kent. Being yours."
"Good," Kent said, his smile matching hers. "Because I like it too. A lot."
They sat there, the café alive with the hum of chatter and clinking cups around them.
The sun was lower now, painting the street in soft gold, casting long shadows across the tables. Gaesha sipped her coffee, then looked at Kent.
"Is she really leaving for good?" she asked, her voice curious. "Like, out of Paris forever?"
"Yeah, sounds like it," Kent said, shrugging. "And honestly, I don't care where she goes, Gaesha. She's out of our lives."
"Okay," Gaesha said, nodding slowly, her smile returning. "No more Claire then. Just us."
"Exactly," Kent said, his voice firm, his hand still holding hers. "Just you and me, like it should be."
"The best you and me," Gaesha said, leaning her head on his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek.
"Yeah," Kent said, resting his cheek against her hair, his voice soft. "The best, Gaesha. Always."
The sun dipped lower, its light fading into a warm glow. Claire's red coat was long gone, her angry steps lost in the distance.
The café hummed on, and Gaesha and Kent stayed close, their world small and perfect, just the two of them.