156.

Anthony’s POV

We did not go far.

That was the first thing I noticed as we slipped out through the quieter side exit, leaving the noise and lights behind.

The music from the ballroom faded into a distant hum, replaced by the soft night air and the low murmur of the city beyond the venue.

Paris at night felt different when you were not performing for it. Quieter. More honest.

The last time I had been here, I barely remembered the streets. Everything had blurred together into airports, practice rinks, hotel corridors, and endless schedules taped to the inside of my head.

I had seen Paris through tinted car windows and reflected stage lights, never through my own tired eyes. There had been no time to slow down, no space to breathe. Every hour had been accounted for, every step measured by what came next.

And Celeste had not helped.

She had loved the attention. Thrived on it, really. Every gala, every after party, every public appearance turned into a performance of its own.

She floate