2. Happy Christmas, Jaanu!
1195 Words
Saanvi's Point Of View
Sitting beside the handsome stranger, I kept staring at the Eiffel Tower as it rose in front of me, majestic, glowing, and impossibly beautiful.
This was the view I had desperately wanted to see.
But now, it only reminded me of him…
Enrico.
I once believed I was the luckiest girl on Earth because someone as handsome as him loved me. Normally, to the boys around me, I was either someone they could easily bully and make fun of or someone they could ask for help with their studies. Other than that, they had nothing to do with me.
But Enrico...
The day I first saw him was on Diwali. He was wearing a traditional golden kurta, looking exceptionally handsome. Without any doubt, all the girls went crazy over the blue-eyed blond Frenchman.
However, he chose me, a simple nerd, over all those beautiful girls.
How could I not consider myself lucky?
“As soon as I finish my MBA, I’ll move to India,” he used to say.
“I want to be with you, Jaanu… Always.”
I trusted every word. I wanted to be with him, too.
But deep inside, I also knew my toxic family would never accept someone like him, a foreigner, a non-Hindu. I knew if I wanted to be with him, I should stay far away from home.
That’s why I began applying for jobs in Paris.
With my IIT degree and my experience as a software engineer, it wasn’t too hard to find a good opportunity. When my visa got approved, I truly felt like I was finally flying away from the past and the people who hurt me beyond what I could bear. I thought I was finally going to start a beautiful life with a man who genuinely loved me.
But God… I was so wrong.
My chest tightened as my mind replayed the scene from earlier: Enrico looks so handsome and homely in his apron, the pregnant woman holding his arm, her other hand protectively resting on their baby. They looked like a perfect couple straight out of a picture.
That perfect couple should have been Enrico and me if everything he told me hadn’t been a lie.
A sob escaped my throat before I could stop it. My shoulders shook violently as I once again broke into tears. Without even realising it, I leaned against the stranger's shoulder, which felt warm, broad, and steady, as if it was made to hold someone else’s sorrow.
My hands trembled, and before I knew it, I held onto his arm, burying my face in the fabric of his coat. He smelled faintly of alcohol and something else too... Calming, soft, and expensive.
His free arm wrapped gently around me, pulling me closer.
He didn’t ask anything. He just gave me his shoulder, as he had promised.
I let out a sigh as my mind began to wander again....
I recalled how my family fought with me when they heard I was moving to Paris. When they couldn’t stop me, my parents yelled at me never to return home again.
To which I gladly agreed.
I had no intention of going back to those toxic people ever again.
But now…
How was I supposed to survive in this unfamiliar city all alone? No matter how toxic they were, back home I had a family. Now I had just myself. Was I really strong enough to face everything alone?
“I shouldn’t have moved to Paris,” I whispered in a daze. “I should have just stayed home… This is a mistake…”
For the first time since he sat beside me, the stranger spoke.
“Don’t say that,” he murmured in a firm yet gentle tone. “Paris isn’t your mistake. Life can break us no matter where we are... at home or far away.” His voice carried a quiet melancholy.
“But nothing is permanent. Not even our sorrows. We just have to take one step and let the hurt pass. You’re stronger than you think, mademoiselle.”
I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at him.
His handsome face glowed under the golden light around us, but to my surprise, I saw sadness in his eyes.
Deep, quiet sadness.
For the first time, I realised he wasn’t just comforting me, he was comforting himself too.
Maybe both of us were just two broken souls on a cold Christmas Eve… finding comfort in each other.
And just as he didn’t dig into my pain, I didn’t ask about his.
Pain recognises pain. A broken heart recognises another.
It doesn’t need explanations.
I gently reached for his hand.
“I think we’re all stronger than we believe… we just need someone to remind us,” I whispered.
He looked at me then, really looked, and then he smiled.
It was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on anyone...
“Adrian,” he introduced himself softly.
“Jaanu,” I replied before I could stop myself.
I had no idea why I used my nickname instead of my real name. Maybe because Enrico called me Jaanu… or maybe because everyone who ever cared about me used that name.
“Mademoiselle Jaanu, shall we celebrate our heartbreaks?” Adrian chuckled lightly.
He stood up and asked, “Would you like a beer?”
“Mmm… I… I don’t drink alcohol,” I admitted shyly.
“Then a cola for mademoiselle Jaanu…” he said, teasingly bowing.
In a short while, he returned with a can of cola for me and a beer for himself. We clinked them together.
“To surviving everything that was meant to break us,” he toasted.
I smiled faintly…
We sat like that for a while, two hurt souls watching others happily move around us.
Then, all of a sudden, a soft flurry of snow drifted from the sky.
The crowd began to cheer. I had heard that Paris didn’t always get snowfall on Christmas. So this Christmas was going to be a special, picture-perfect white Christmas.
While I was still marvelling at my first snowfall, Adrian gently wrapped his scarf around my neck. He didn’t say anything, just smiled.
Christmas carols echoed from nearby stalls. Everyone stopped and stared at the gigantic tower. It was time...
The Eiffel Tower began to sparkle.
A wave of golden lights ran upward, making the entire structure shimmer like magic.
“Happy Christmas!!” voices erupted everywhere, laughter, joy, excitement filling the air.
I forgot to breathe. The sight was too magical, too beautiful, even powerful enough to make me forget my sorrows for a moment.
Right then, a whisper brushed my ear.
“Happy Christmas, Jaanu!”
I turned with a smile, ready to wish him too, but Adrian gently cupped my face.
My heart stopped... My mind went blank.
And then his lips touched mine.
Soft. Gentle. And with lots of care...
And just like that…
I had my first kiss under the Eiffel Tower on Christmas Eve, just like I had wished for, but with a man other than the one I expected!
- Writer
