You’re my husband, aren’t you?

Laura

The morning air in the lobby was a mix of sophistication and tranquility, carrying the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee and expensive cologne. I let out a soft sigh, my fingers tracing the edge of the velvet armrest of a lounge chair near the tall windows. Paris in the early morning was magic, its streets humming with life yet not overwhelmed by it. 

I needed this moment of peace, away from the whirlwind of emotions that had enveloped me since Jake and I got here. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, savoring the faint buzz of conversations and the occasional clink of glassware from the café area.

It wasn't until I heard a sharp, slightly exasperated voice nearby that my attention sharpened. 

"I'm telling you, Charles, this campaign has to hit differently. The last one was a disaster."