PARISIAN HEARTS

Chapter 13

Isabelle hadn’t expected to find herself thinking of Adrien as often as she did. Every time she picked up her brush, it was as if he was there—his voice, his words, his presence. Their connection had deepened, slowly but surely, since that night he reached out to her. Adrien had kept his promise to support her craft, and he had been visiting more often. Whether it was to see her progress or simply to talk, their time together had become something she cherished.

One afternoon, Adrien showed up unexpectedly, carrying with him a small gift bag. He handed it to Isabelle as he stepped inside her tiny apartment, his eyes warm.

“I thought you might like this,” he said with a soft smile.

Isabelle opened the bag and gasped softly. Inside was a set of high-quality paints, the kind she could never afford on her own. She looked up at him, her heart swelling.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, touched by his gesture.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “You deserve the best.”

Isabelle felt a warmth spread through her chest, something beyond gratitude. It was the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel valued. She had never known someone like Adrien—someone who seemed to see her for who she truly was, beyond her art and her struggles.

As the days passed, their bond grew deeper. They would spend hours talking, sometimes about art, sometimes about life, but more often than not, just enjoying each other’s company. The more time they spent together, the more Isabelle found herself drawn to him. There was something about the way Adrien looked at her, the way he spoke to her, that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

And Adrien—despite the world he came from—felt the same. He couldn’t help but be captivated by Isabelle’s passion, her resilience, her warmth. Being with her was like a breath of fresh air, something he hadn’t realized he had been missing in his life.