The sun-dappled streets of Paris stretched out before Sarah as she stepped out of her quaint apartment building. The air was crisp with the promise of autumn. She wrapped her scarf tighter, her auburn hair dancing in the breeze, and headed to her favorite café.

Sipping a café au lait at an outdoor table, Sarah sketched absentmindedly in her notebook. She looked up as a tall figure approached. It was Luc, the handsome stranger she'd bumped into the day before.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," Luc smiled, his grey eyes crinkling at the corners. "May I join you?" Sarah nodded, heart quickening.

They talked for hours, the Eiffel Tower standing watch in the distance. Luc was charming, passionate about his work as an architect. Sarah found herself opening up about her dreams of being an artist.

Over the next weeks, they explored Paris together, picnicking in the jardins, browsing used bookshops. Luc showed Sarah his favorite bridge over the Seine. She took him to hidden cafés down cobblestone alleys.

One evening, Sarah finally invited Luc to her apartment for dinner. She cooked coq au vin as jazz played softly in the background. After dessert and several glasses of Bordeaux, they swayed together to the music.

Sarah looked up into Luc's eyes, seeing tenderness and longing. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her. It was deep and searching, expressing the feelings blossoming between them these past weeks.

In the morning, Sarah awoke in a tangle of sheets, Luc's arm draped around her bare shoulder. Sunlight streamed in the window. She studied his peaceful face and her heart swelled. This was the beginning of something real.

But that very afternoon, everything changed. An ex-girlfriend appeared at Luc's door, begging him to take her back. Sarah arrived in time to overhear their heated conversation, the other woman in tears.

Shocked and confused, Sarah turned and ran, ignoring Luc calling after her. She holed up in her apartment, hurt and angry. How could she have misread things so badly?

Days later, there was a knock at her door. It was Luc, looking disheveled and distressed.

"Sarah, please. It's not what you think," he pleaded. "She's my past. You...you are my future. If you'll still have me?"

Sarah hesitated, heart aching. She wanted so badly to believe him. Searching his eyes, she saw only sincerity shining back.

Slowly, she stepped forward into his arms. Luc exhaled deeply, holding her tight. "Je t'aime," he whispered into her hair. "I love you."

On her tiptoes, Sarah met his lips, pouring her forgiveness and love into the kiss as Paris bustled on around them, the timeless city of romance.