A week before our wedding, my fiancé vanished. Heartbroken, I went to Paris alone—only to find him in the hotel lobby. He confessed he’d once been involved with a small drug ring, became a witness for the state, and years later someone from that past threatened me. Panicking, he ran to keep me safe.
We spent days in Paris slowly talking, until we noticed someone following us. After we escaped, Theo contacted an old handler who told us the man was already under surveillance and the threat was being handled.
Theo later gave me a notebook with his full story—his past, his fear, his love for me. It didn’t erase the hurt, but it helped us start over. We went home, did the hard work, went to therapy, rebuilt trust, and six months later married in a tiny backyard ceremony.
Three years later, we live a quiet life with our cat and a messy garden. Our story isn’t a fairy tale, but it survived chaos, fear, and second chances. Sometimes love leaves—and still finds its way back.
