All That Went Unsaid | Complete (18+)

Chapter 16

Sophie Esinberg's POV

I knew I should've said no.

I should've turned around the moment Raymond held open the taxi door, but something in me couldn't do that. 

Somehow, my legs moved before my brain caught up, and now we were standing in front of an ancient bookstore tucked between two crumbling stone buildings on a narrow, cobbled street. A wrought-iron sign swung above the wooden door, its gold lettering faded with time:

Librairie Saint-Laurent — Depuis 1878.

I cannot believe this is what he wanted me to see—an old, creaky building that looked like it might crumble any minute. The paint was chipped, the windows clouded with age, and the wooden sign above the door swayed ever so slightly in the breeze like it was barely holding on. Of all places in Paris, this—this rickety relic—was where he'd brought me?

"This looks like it'll fall apart if we so much as breathe near it," I muttered, eyeing the cracked shutters and ivy climbing up the bricks. 

Raymond laughed, that low, familiar sound that used to be the highlight of my day. "That's the charm. Wait till you're inside."

He pushed the door open with a gentle creak, the bell above the frame jingling softly. I stepped in... and stopped.

My breath hitched.

Wooden beams arched across the high ceilings like a cathedral. Shelves—floor to ceiling—were lined with books in every color, some stacked horizontally where space ran out. A spiral staircase curled toward a mezzanine level that overlooked the main floor, and the scent of old paper, polished wood, and something faintly citrusy filled the air.

Raymond stepped beside me, hands in his pockets, watching my reaction instead of the shelves.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

"I thought you'd like it."

"I love it."

We wandered through the maze of bookshelves, each corner revealing quiet reading nooks and soft armchairs worn with use. There were no flashing lights or digital displays. Just quiet, timeless wonder.

"I came here last year," Raymond said, his voice soft. "I don't even know why. Maybe I was just wandering and needed to breathe. The moment I stepped inside, I thought of you."

I turned to him, raising a brow. "Why?"

He didn't smile. He looked around us slowly, then back at me. "Because from the outside, this place looks fragile. Like it could crumble if the wind blew too hard. But when you step inside... it's strong. Grounded. Beautiful. And there's so much more than what you first see."

I stared at him.

"That's you.", he said. 

"You haven't seen me in the past seven years, Raymond."

"Well, at least that's what you were like in high school," he continued. "Everyone saw the girl with her nose in textbooks. Quiet. Awkward. Nerdy, even." He smiled slightly. "But I saw all this. The grit. The kindness. The fire underneath. You just... didn't know it."

I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until it left me in a soft exhale. My fingers brushed over a row of cloth-bound books. I swallowed hard.

"You never said that back then."

He nodded. "I should've. I should've done a lot of things."

We stood in a patch of sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows, the dust in the air swirling like golden confetti.