Our Story
We met in a second-hand bookshop, both reaching for the very last copy of the same tattered novel. Julien let Éloïse have it — on the condition that she'd tell him how it ended over coffee.
That coffee lasted four hours. The novel took us a year to actually finish, because we kept getting distracted by our own story.
Last spring, tucked inside that same book, Éloïse found a handwritten note and a ring. It simply read: “Will you write the rest of it with me?”