Love Affair/ Roman Reigns

Viva La Paris!

We arrived in the enchanting "City of Love," Paris, France. As I gazed out of the airplane window, the twinkling city lights below danced like a swarm of luminous fireflies against the dark canvas of the night. After touching down, we made our way to the hotel, unpacked our bags, and prepared for a peaceful night's sleep, eager to dive into the wonders of Paris come morning.

On the second day of our enchanting journey through Paris, my partner Roman woke up with the sun, his excitement palpable as he set an early alarm to dive into the treasures of the city. The golden rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of our hotel room, casting a warm glow that seemed to mirror his enthusiasm. After getting ready, we stepped out into the vibrant streets, the city still waking up around us. The cobblestone paths glistened with dew, and the soft sounds of morning filled the air—distant laughter, the clinking of cups, and the gentle hum of bicycles gliding by.  

As we wandered, a tantalizing aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted through the air, wrapping around us like a warm embrace. The scent was irresistible, and it prompted Roman to suggest a quick stop for a treat. With cafes lining every corner, each one more charming than the last, it didn't take long for us to find a cozy spot. The café had a quaint outdoor terrace adorned with blooming flowers and wrought-iron furniture, inviting us to sit and soak in the Parisian atmosphere.

At 26 weeks pregnant, my feet were beginning to protest, the long hours of walking taking their toll. My doctor had advised me to limit my walking, emphasizing the importance of rest during this special time. Sensing my fatigue, Roman gallantly led me to a nearby café, prioritizing my comfort before we continued our exploration of the day. He held my hand, his touch reassuring, as we settled into our seats.

We ordered a couple of buttery croissants and steaming cups of café au lait, the perfect pairing for a leisurely breakfast. As we savored each bite, I watched the world go by—the locals greeting each other with warm smiles, tourists snapping photos, and the occasional artist sketching the scene before them. Roman and I shared stories and laughter, our connection deepening amidst the backdrop of this beautiful city. 

After our delightful breakfast, we took a moment to enjoy the ambiance, the sounds of clinking dishes and soft chatter creating a symphony of life around us. I felt grateful for this moment, for the love we shared, and for the adventure that lay ahead. With renewed energy and a heart full of joy, we prepared to continue our exploration of Paris, ready to uncover more of its hidden gems together.

As we wandered through the bustling streets, the vibrant energy of the city surrounded us, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the distant music of street performers filling the air. However, amidst this lively atmosphere, Roman's discomfort became increasingly evident. His face contorted slightly as he began to voice his growing stomach pain, each step he took seeming to amplify his distress. The once-excited glint in his eyes was now overshadowed by a furrowed brow, and I could see him clenching his fists, a physical manifestation of his discomfort.

Sensing his unease, I gently urged him to take a break. We scanned our surroundings for a place to rest, and soon spotted a nearby bench nestled under the shade of a large tree. The bench, though worn and weathered, offered a momentary refuge from the chaos of the streets. I helped him settle down, ensuring he was comfortable, and offered words of comfort, trying to distract him from the pain that was clearly gnawing at him. As he grimaced, I could see the tension in his shoulders begin to ease slightly, though the discomfort remained.

While we sat there, the world continued to bustle around us, but my mind was focused on him. I couldn't help but ask about his plans to return to WWE, a topic I knew was close to his heart. His reply was laced with frustration, a raw emotion that reflected not only his physical injury but also the mental toll it had taken on him. He spoke passionately about his love for wrestling, the thrill of performing in front of thousands, and the adrenaline rush that came with each match. Yet, beneath that passion lay a palpable sense of conflict. It was clear that he was torn between his desire to return to the ring and the reality of his current condition.

As he spoke, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. His words revealed a relentless passion for wrestling, a sport that he had dedicated so much of his life to, regardless of the dangers involved. I could picture the risks he might face if he decided to step back into the ring before fully recovering—injuries that could worsen, the potential for long-term damage, and the emotional toll of not being able to perform at his best. The thought of him pushing himself too hard, too soon, left me feeling uneasy, a mix of concern and admiration swirling within me.