Paris had always held a bittersweet magic for Andrea. The city of lights, of romance, of painful goodbyes. It was here, months ago, that she had made the hardest decision of her life: walking away from Miranda Priestly.

She had left Paris with her heart in pieces, promising herself she would move on. And she tried—returning to New York, taking on freelance writing jobs, and pretending she didn’t check Runway magazine covers just to catch a glimpse of Miranda’s face.

But when a friend invited her to a literary conference back in Paris, Andrea couldn’t resist. She told herself it was just work, but the truth was, a part of her longed for the city where she’d last seen Miranda, even if it hurt.

The conference ended early that afternoon, leaving Andrea with unexpected free time. Wandering the cobblestone streets, she found herself drawn to a small bookstore tucked between two cafés. It was unassuming, with a faded sign reading Librairie de L'Amour.

Curiosity led her inside.

The air smelled of old paper and lavender, and soft classical music played in the background. Andrea wandered between the shelves, her fingers brushing over the spines of novels. She stopped in the romance section, pulling out a worn copy of Les Misérables.

“You always did have a penchant for the dramatic.”

The voice, low and unmistakable, sent a shiver down Andrea’s spine. Her heart stopped before it began pounding in her chest.

Slowly, she turned.

Miranda Priestly stood just a few feet away, dressed impeccably in a tailored black coat and heeled boots. Her silver hair gleamed under the dim light, and her blue eyes were fixed on Andrea with an intensity that made her knees weak.

“Miranda,” Andrea whispered, the book slipping from her fingers.

Miranda’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though her eyes betrayed something deeper—confusion, perhaps even hurt. “Andrea. What an unexpected surprise.”

Andrea’s throat went dry. The odds of running into Miranda in this tiny Parisian bookstore felt impossible, yet here they were.

“I... didn’t think I’d see you here,” Andrea managed, her voice barely steady.

“Clearly,” Miranda replied, stepping closer. Her gaze softened slightly as she added, “It’s been months.”

Andrea nodded, her chest tightening. “It has.”

Miranda tilted her head, studying Andrea in that unnervingly perceptive way she had. “You disappeared without a word. No goodbye, no explanation. Why?”

Andrea swallowed hard. She had imagined this moment countless times but never thought it would actually happen. “I... I didn’t think you’d care.”

Miranda’s brows arched. “You didn’t think I’d care?” Her tone was calm, but there was an edge to it. “You worked by my side for over a year, and you think I wouldn’t notice your absence?”

Andrea’s stomach twisted. “I thought you’d replace me. Like you always do.”

Miranda flinched, just barely, but enough for Andrea to notice.

“Andrea,” Miranda began, her voice quieter now, “I don’t replace people who matter. I simply... adjust.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Andrea looked away, her eyes falling on the shelves lined with love stories. “I left because I couldn’t stay,” she admitted.

“Why not?”

Andrea took a deep breath, the confession she had buried for so long finally rising to the surface. “Because I was falling in love with you, and I knew I didn’t belong in your world. I’m not Emily or Nigel, or anyone who
fits into your life. I’m just me, and I couldn’t handle wanting something I could never have.”

Silence followed her words, stretching painfully. Andrea kept her gaze on the floor, afraid to see Miranda’s reaction.

“You foolish girl,” Miranda said softly, stepping closer until Andrea could feel the warmth of her presence.

Andrea’s head snapped up, her eyes meeting Miranda’s.

“You are the only person,” Miranda continued, her voice trembling slightly, “who has ever truly understood me. You saw me, Andrea—not just the editor-in-chief or the impossible boss, but me. And you think you don’t belong?”

Andrea blinked, stunned. “Miranda, I—”

“Do you have any idea,” Miranda interrupted, her tone growing firmer, “how much I missed you? How many times I’ve replayed that moment in Paris, wondering what I could have done to make you stay?”

Tears pricked at Andrea’s eyes. “I didn’t think you’d ever—”

Miranda silenced her with a look, then reached out, her gloved hand brushing Andrea’s cheek. “I’ve spent my life building walls, but you… you tore through them without even trying. And I hated you for it, until I realized I didn’t hate you at all. I just didn’t know how to face how much I need you.”

Andrea’s breath hitched as Miranda leaned closer, their faces just inches apart.

“Say something,” Miranda whispered, her voice almost pleading.

Andrea couldn’t hold back any longer. “I love you.”

And then Miranda closed the distance, her lips capturing Andrea’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of unspoken promises.

The world seemed to fade away—the bookstore, the city, everything but the two of them. When they finally pulled apart, Miranda’s eyes shone with an emotion Andrea had never seen before.

“Come back to me,” Miranda said, her voice barely audible, a few happy tears rolling doen her cheeks.

Andrea smiled through her tears, gently wiping Mirandas tears away with her thumb, nodding.

“Always.”

Hand in hand, they walked out of the bookstore, leaving the past behind and stepping into a new chapter—together.