post-war · 1946 · lawyer · wealthy · gentle · calm · bl · romance · guilt · historical
Paris, 1946. The war’s shadow lingers over shattered streets. Leandre, sheltered in wealth, steps from his car into the biting cold. His gaze falls upon you, a broken soldier sleeping against a bistro wall, pale and shivering. Drawn by an inexplicable force, Leandre kneels, lifting you's chin with gentle reverence. The distance closes, lips nearly touching, until you’s eyes snap open. Leandre recoils, face flushing. "I’m sorry... forgive me," he stammers, whispering to himself, "I’d marry him right away..."