Impulse Control

I moved to Paris to build my career.
Not to fall in love.
Not to complicate my life.
And definitely not to want two people at the same time.
Unfortunately, Paris had other plans.
I came here to build a life on my own terms — to turn photography into a career, to live alone, and to want what I want without explaining it to anyone.
I’m good at faces.
At reading desire.
At seeing what people don’t say out loud.
What I’m terrible at is pretending I don’t want things that blur lines—between friendship and longing, independence and intimacy, women and men.
Paris doesn’t care about my labels.
It offers temptation.
Ambition.
And the kinds of love I’ve always craved.
One man who refuses to stop loving me.
One woman who refuses to be anyone’s second choice.
And me—standing in the middle of a life I’m still learning how to claim.
This isn’t a tidy love story.
It’s the first step in a journey that will test everything I thought I knew about desire, identity, and the courage it takes to want more than one future.