The buzz of excitement filled the air as Tasha sat with her friends in the sunlit corner of the university café. Paris—city of dreams, art, and romance—was just days away, and everyone was teeming with anticipation. Maya was already flipping through a guidebook, rambling off lists of museums, bakeries, and boutiques. Zara chimed in with her fashion itinerary, while Laila talked about croissants and French cafes.
Tasha smiled at their enthusiasm, but her heart was heavy. Her gaze drifted out the window, where the sky shimmered with the gold of approaching dusk. She had been quiet all morning, and Ryan, ever observant, noticed.
"Hey," he nudged her gently. "You okay? You've barely said a word."
She sighed and looked at him. "I'm excited about Paris, I really am. But... Adam. Things between us feel strange lately. He's distant. Like he's with me, but not really present."
Ryan leaned back, arms crossed thoughtfully. "Do you think something's wrong?"
Tasha bit her lip. "I don't know. Maybe he's going through something. Or maybe we're just... drifting. I thought about giving him some space. Maybe the trip will help. For both of us."
"Sometimes space brings people closer," Ryan said. "And sometimes it helps you understand what you truly want. Either way, just don't carry the burden alone, alright?"
She smiled faintly. "Thanks, Ryan."
Meanwhile, Adam was drowning in his own emotional storm. His home had long stopped being a place of comfort. His parents had separated years ago, and the memories of their arguments still echoed in the grand halls of their mansion. His father had distanced himself from the chaos, focusing on business and rarely interfering. Becky—Adam's mother—was a different story altogether.
Becky was a powerhouse of the textile industry, a woman known for her precision and pride. She had built her empire with iron will and icy discipline, and she ran her household the same way. There was little room for softness in her world. Her love came in conditions and expectations, not warmth.
That evening, Adam sat across from her at the lavish dinner table. The chandelier's crystal glow refracted shadows across her cold expression.
"So," she said, setting her wine glass down, "this girl you're seeing—when do I meet her?"
Adam exhaled slowly. "We're not ready for that."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why not? I'm your mother. Don't I deserve to meet the woman you're investing so much time in?"
He clenched his jaw. "Because you'll judge her. You always do. You dissect people down to their shoes and vocabulary, and if she doesn't meet your standards, you'll destroy her confidence without blinking."
She chuckled humorlessly. "I simply want what's best for you. Someone from a decent background. Educated. Sophisticated. Not some emotional liability."
Adam stood, anger rising like a tide. "You don't even know her. You only know how to control people. I won't let you do that to her."
"Then I won't support it," Becky said sharply. "Mark my words, if I don't approve, she'll never become part of this family."
He stared at her in silence, his heart heavy with disappointment. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Later that night, unable to sleep, he called Tasha. She answered after two rings.
"Adam?"
His voice was weary. "Can we talk?"
"Of course. What happened?"
He paused, his silence louder than words. "I had a fight with my mom. She wants to meet you. I told her no."
Tasha's breath caught. "Why?"
"Because she's not like other people. She's ruthless. She'll find every possible flaw in you and magnify it. I'm scared she'll hurt you—and I can't stand the thought."
Tasha's voice was soft. "Adam, you don't have to protect me from everything. I can handle difficult people."
"I know you can. But I don't want you to have to. You deserve peace."
There was a pause.
"I'm going to Paris tomorrow," she said gently. "Maybe the distance will help. We'll talk again when I'm back. We'll figure this out. Together."
Adam's voice cracked. "I'll miss you so much."
"I'll miss you too."
Paris welcomed Tasha with its cobblestone streets, sweet pastries, and warm spring air. She walked along the Seine, visited art museums with her friends, and took pictures under the Eiffel Tower. Slowly, her heart began to lift. She laughed again, shared secrets over midnight talks with Maya, danced with strangers, and let herself breathe.
But not every moment was picture-perfect.
One afternoon, while shopping in a boutique, Tasha reached for a silk scarf. Before she could take it, a woman—tall, haughty, and dripping in diamonds—snatched it and snapped, "That's mine."
Tasha blinked. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was taken."
The woman looked her up and down with disgust. "Of course you didn't. Typical. Thinking you can grab anything you want."
Tasha remained calm. "I wasn't trying to be rude. The saleswoman gave it to me."
The woman stepped closer, voice venomous. "Girls like you don't belong in stores like this."
Something in Tasha snapped. She stepped forward, eyes blazing.
"You mean girls who don't carry thousand-dollar handbags? Girls who don't flaunt their money like a crown? Because if that's your measure of worth, then I pity you."
"Don't get smart with me," the woman hissed.
Tasha's voice was steady and strong. "No, I'm getting honest. Class isn't something you buy. And frankly, you're bankrupt."
The boutique manager intervened quickly. The woman stormed out, red with fury. Tasha's friends stared in stunned admiration.
"That was savage," Zara said.
"And dignified," katty added. "You handled her like royalty."
Tasha smiled, though her heart was racing. She realized in that moment she didn't need anyone's approval to know her value.
Throughout the month, she and Ryan spent more time together. He was her comfort, her comic relief, her quiet strength.
One evening, they sat on a bench along the Seine.
"You seem lighter," Ryan said, watching the boats drift.
"I feel lighter," she admitted. "Paris... gave me space to think. And you've been there for me, more than you realize."
He smiled. "I didn't do much. Just kept you company."
She looked at him. "You did more than that. You listened. You reminded me I'm allowed to be vulnerable. You reminded me who I am."
He shrugged. "I guess I just care. More than I expected."
There was a silence that hung between them—not uncomfortable, but full of meaning.
When the month ended, Adam waited at the airport. He spotted her the moment she stepped out, her eyes searching.
She smiled. He smiled back. No words were needed. He drove her to a quiet river spot where the city lights flickered like stars on water.
"I'm sorry," he said. "For everything. For not talking to you. For making you feel distant. I was dealing with things, but I should've let you in."
Tasha reached out and took his hand. "I understand now. And I'm here. Always. But next time, don't carry it alone. Let me be your strength too."
He looked at her, eyes misty. "I missed you every single day."
"I know," she whispered. "I felt it."
That night, back home, Tasha felt peace. She sat with her family, recounting her Paris adventures over dinner, laughter echoing through the house. Later, she hugged her mom and bro tightly.
"I missed you guys so much," she said, before heading to bed.
Tomorrow would be a big day.
Adam was going to introduce her to Becky.
And the real test of love was just about to begin.