Elena
Bucket List Item #3: Ride a vintage bike through Paris.
I laughed as I swerved past Zayden on the narrow path near the Seine, my white sundress fluttering in the wind.
"Slow down, Mrs. Wolfe!" he called, chasing after me, his voice half-scolding, half-grinning.
I didn't slow down.
I wanted to feel the wind kiss my cheeks. I wanted to feel alive. Just for today.
Zayden eventually caught up and stopped beside me, flushed and laughing. I leaned over the handlebars, panting and grinning like a teenager.
"Worth it?" he asked.
I nodded, breathless. "Every second."
Then he kissed me—right there in public, with people passing and Paris spinning behind us.
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Bucket List Item #4: Buy secondhand books from Shakespeare & Company
That evening, we strolled through the warm-lit bookstore, fingers entwined. I bought a worn-out poetry book, and Zayden picked out a leather journal.
"For you to start writing your own story," he murmured, placing it gently in my hands.
That small gesture broke something open inside me. He wasn't just ticking off boxes with me—he was building a forever with me, one memory at a time.
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Zayden
She was glowing under the bookstore lights, flipping through pages like she was trying to imprint every word into her soul. I watched her with a tight chest. She didn't know I'd called the doctor this morning.
The results weren't good.
But I didn't tell her.
Not yet.
Not while she still had that fire in her eyes. Not while she still laughed like she didn't have an expiration date.
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Bucket List Item #5: Watch the sunrise on Montmartre
At 4:45 a.m., wrapped in my coat, Elena leaned into my side as we sat on the stone steps of Sacré-Cœur. The sky shifted from velvet blue to soft pink and orange, the city slowly waking up beneath us.
"I want to remember this," she whispered, voice thick. "When it's dark... I want to remember this light."
I didn't say anything. I just kissed her temple and prayed silently that tomorrow would still come for her.
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Later that night
She wore black lace and red lipstick — a walking heartbreaker.
We'd crossed off two more things: take a Parisian cooking class and crash a stranger's wedding (yes, we really did that).
And now… she led me to the bedroom.
There were no words. No hesitation.
Only desperate touches, lingering stares, and whispered promises of forever.
> This was intimacy in its highest form — not just passion, but presence.
She wanted to be remembered. And I was already ruined.
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Elena
Zayden pulled me into his arms after, and I curled into his chest, eyes fluttering shut.
But then I remembered.
I sat up suddenly. "I have one more for tonight."
He looked concerned. "What is it?"
> "Kiss me in the rain. No umbrellas. No running."
He smiled slowly, already reaching for his coat. "Then come on, Mrs. Wolfe. Let's find your rain."
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