Continuation of our last story

Chapter 6: Christmas Lights and Confessions After the rooftop café, Marc insisted on taking me to a part of the city I hadn’t seen the Canal Saint-Martin, twinkling under fairy lights like a scene from a Christmas card. Snow had stopped falling, leaving the streets glistening in icy perfection. The soft hum of distant carols mixed with the occasional laughter of children playing in the square. “I come here every Christmas,” Marc said, wrapping his scarf more snugly around my neck. “It’s… peaceful. Magical. You’ll understand when you walk along the canal.” I followed him, my hands brushing against his every so often. Each touch sent shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. We paused by a small bridge. He leaned on the railing, looking at the reflections of the lights in the water. “Clara… I have to be honest,” he said, turning to face me. “I’ve felt… something since the moment I saw you in that café.” My heart skipped a beat. I had been trying to play it cool, to not get swept away so quickly, but hearing it out loud made my pulse race. “I… feel it too,” I admitted softly. Marc smiled, and then, without warning, he leaned down, pressing his lips gently to mine. It wasn’t a long kiss, just a fleeting touch at first but it carried warmth, anticipation, and something deeper. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my palms. Pulling back slightly, he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” --- Chapter 7: Snowy Mischief The next day, Marc had another surprise for me. “You can’t come to Paris at Christmas and not go ice skating,” he said with a mischievous grin. The rink was crowded with families and couples, but that didn’t stop him from taking my hand as we stepped onto the ice. I wobbled precariously, laughing as he held me steady. “You’re stronger than you look,” he teased, spinning me carefully. “Or you’re just very good at pretending to be graceful,” I shot back, laughing so hard that my sides hurt. He pulled me close, and for a moment, the bustling rink faded away. Our laughter mingled with the cold air, and I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate waiting at the café afterward. Every brush of our hands, every playful shove, every shared smile made my heart pound harder. Later, warming up with cocoa and cinnamon pastries, Marc leaned across the table. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured. “Even when we’re not together, I… imagine you.” My cheeks heated. “Marc…” He smiled, mischievous and tender at the same time. “I like that I make you blush,” he said softly. --- Chapter 8: Friends, Laughter, and Little Surprises By mid-December, I felt like I had lived a month’s worth of Christmas magic in just a few days. Marc introduced me to friends, took me to secret bakeries, and even invited me to a small holiday performance of a Parisian ballet. One evening, as we walked through a quiet square, Sophie Marc’s vibrant friendinterrupted us. “You two are terrible at hiding your feelings,” she said with a teasing grin. “Honestly, the tension is unbearable.” I shot her a glare, but Marc laughed, leaning close to whisper, “She’s not wrong.” My heart leapt. “Marc…” He brushed a strand of hair from my face, and just like that, I melted. There was a playfulness to him, yes, but also something serious beneath it—something that made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Later, back at his apartment, we shared quiet moments by the window, watching snowflakes drift lazily past. Marc made me hot chocolate again, and we settled into a cozy corner of his living room. His hand found mine, our fingers entwined effortlessly. “I wish Christmas could last forever,” I whispered. “Not forever,” he said, leaning close, “but maybe… this moment.” And in that moment, nothing else mattered. --- Chapter 9: A Slight Misunderstanding Not every day was perfect, of course. One morning, Marc seemed distracted, checking his phone often and looking distant. I felt a pang of jealousy, imagining some mysterious woman calling him. “Is everything okay?” I asked cautiously. Marc looked up, startled. “Clara, yes… I’m sorry. I… just had to sort out some family plans for Christmas. It’s nothing, nothing at all.” I nodded, but my heart still ached a little. I realized just how much I had come to care for him in such a short time. That night, I tried to distract myself with a walk through the twinkling streets, hoping the city’s magic would soothe the little sting of uncertainty. Of course, fate had other plans. On a quiet street corner, Marc appeared with two steaming cups of cocoa, catching me off guard. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said softly, sliding one cup into my hands. “I want you here, with me. Always.” The sincerity in his eyes melted any lingering doubts. I smiled, leaning into him, and for a while, we just stood there, drinking cocoa, letting the world disappear around us. ---To be continued..........................................................

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