We left Le Fou's restaurant and headed towards the Paris Opera House. The movie we were going to watch tonight was 'Napoleon,' a silent film depicting the historical life of the misguided general. I tried to push away other thoughts from my mind and focus on the movie, but doubts continued to linger. I glanced at Christophe, who was smiling like a child, and my heart felt both light and heavy. Every time I faced him, I saw Andermis. I had never discussed my past with him, nor had I mentioned the man I loved. I didn't want Christophe to know that there was a striking resemblance between him and Andermis in terms of appearance. I didn't want him to misunderstand that I accepted his date only because of his looks. But... what if that was the real reason? If I came to Christophe because of his appearance, would it be fair to both him and me? Part of me wanted to hold on tightly, while the other part felt compelled to let go, unable to make a decisive choice. I might be getting older, but I wasn't growing wiser. Selfishness still lingered, slowly corroding my rationality once again.

On our way back, Christophe kept asking about my feelings. In front of him, I could only manage simple "yes" and "no" responses. The outing would have been enjoyable if I hadn't been so hard on myself. Seeing Christophe genuinely happy, I couldn't bear to make him sad. It was now midnight in Paris, with a serene sky accompanying the chilly mischievous breeze that found its way into the gaps of our clothes. We strolled along empty streets, passing by darkened rows of houses. Perhaps the only people awake in this glamorous Paris were those who couldn't sleep due to empty stomachs, pondering how they would manage the next day. In the distance, a few dimly lit shacks remained, a couple of fortune tellers still peered into glass crystals, old rusty coins, and abandoned tarot cards of a Gypsy woman lay strewn about.

"Is there something you don't like?" Christophe's question startled me out of my reverie.

"Oh?," his question brought me back to reality abruptly.

"You seem rather quiet today," his voice rang like a gentle piano melody. "Did our outing disappoint you?"

"No!," I shook my head. "I just feel a bit tense... It's been a while since I had an outing like this."

"A date, you mean!," he chuckled.

"Yes, a date...," I lowered my head, smiling softly. "Who would think a thirty-six-year-old woman still goes on dates!"

"I don't mind!," Christophe shrugged. "After all, I'm forty."

"You're a man, it's different."

"Even if you're sixty, I'd still pursue you."

As he spoke, Christophe suddenly halted right in the middle of a nearby building's archway. I instinctively clung to his arm, and thus our steps came to a pause. Both of us stood there, facing each other in a silent moment. Oh, how could Christophe resemble Andermis like this? Under the dimly lit night, my heart raced for a man who looked like my love. How could I become so sinful? I couldn't control my heartbeat and emotions anymore. In an instant, my body felt numb. What should I do now?

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Christophe slowly leaned down to place a kiss on my lips. I wanted to refuse him, but the longing and vulnerability of my heart didn't allow me to do so. My feet lifted slightly to receive that kiss. And then, we kissed. In a brief moment of awareness, I saw Enzo, Augustin, and Andermis. All three of them looked at me with disappointment. They were not only criticizing me for taking another step, but also for causing more pain to another man. Especially Andermis. His gaze toward me was no longer as gentle as before. All I could sense from him was a pang of heartbreak and disappointment. In that moment, I knew this kiss was wrong. I didn't think I loved Christophe, yet I accepted that kiss, even embraced its intensity. But this kiss held no flavor, it was just empty excess. I couldn't! I couldn't do this anymore! I had to put an end to it before things went too far!

I pushed him away in anguish, not allowing Christophe to conclude that kiss. Tears streamed down my face as I kept apologizing and then ran without caring into a dimly lit alleyway. I hugged myself, crying, leaning against the wall, and eventually kneeling down. I had shattered my faith with God, and He was punishing me for my disbelief. I would never experience true love. I would never love anyone again!

Eventually, Christophe found me sitting huddled like the little match girl on Christmas night. He stood there for a while, not saying a word. I looked up at him, my eyes filled with teary trails. I shook my head, guilt-ridden, and said:

"I can't, Chris..."

In that moment, a part of me expected a face filled with disappointment. He could have been angry, cursed at me, or even left me alone here, and I wouldn't have protested because I deserved it. But surprisingly, Christophe extended his hand before me, appearing like a lifebuoy to rescue this sinking life. I stared at him in astonishment, a tinge of emptiness in my heavy heart. I took his hand, then slowly stood up.

Christophe pulled out a scented handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped away the tears that were drying due to the gentle breeze at the corner of my eye. His heart must have been aching and torn too, but his nobility was surpassing it all. Christophe slowly led me to a spot illuminated by a nearby street lamp. Beneath the twinkling night lights, Christophe stood tall and forgiving. His shadow enveloped me entirely, with a heart gentle enough to warm this cold and desolate soul. How could someone like me, a woman with a painful past, encounter such good-hearted men? I wished I could see a bit differently so that I wouldn't have to agonize when stepping beside him. A good man like Christophe deserved more than being a replacement for someone else. My gaze carried a hint of remorse, my hand gripping his tightly, I asked:

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"I'll let you tell me when you're ready," Christophe smiled gently in response.

"And what if I'm never ready?"

"Then it's quite clear we won't get very far!," Christophe replied with an untroubled demeanor. "However, I do genuinely want to know."

"About what?" I nodded, asking.

"Why you rejected me," a tinge of sadness appeared on his face. "I've lived long enough and experienced enough to understand when a woman turns down my affections, Fiona."

We stood in silence for a moment before I could open up and share with him what was weighing heavily on my mind right now. This was the first time I had talked about my past to someone of the opposite sex. The moon followed our footsteps like a line of chicks following their mother. Not needing to know where we were going, the moonlight continued to shine as if we held the keys to the night. I told him everything about me, laying myself bare like an old sweater beneath the bed. I told him about Enzo, about the unwilling husband, and about the lover who disappeared without a trace. I told him why I couldn't take another step forward, how I still felt fearful after all these years, and how I hadn't truly moved on from my old love. I rejected Christophe because I couldn't continue being a villain and dragging him into a shadow. I valued him and felt something for him, so I had to build a barrier around the gates of my heart.