As the first light of a winter morning filtered through the window in Paris, Julian woke up from the couch in Emily's bedroom. The soft glow cast long shadows, painting the room with a muted, bluish hue. Outside, the rooftops were dusted with a light layer of snow, and the air was crisp and silent, only occasionally broken by the distant sound of church bells or the muffled crunch of footsteps on the frosty pavement.
Julian sat up, feeling the stiffness in his back from the uncomfortable night on the couch. He walked over to Emily's side, her breath even and eyes closed, showing no sign of waking up. He stood there, looking at her peaceful face for a while, a mix of worry and affection in his eyes, before quietly leaving the room.
Descending to the main floor, Julian was greeted by Matthieu. "Bonjour, Mr. Everhart. Would you like some coffee?" he asked with a warm smile.
