In the quiet corners of Brussels,

as the city sighed into evening, love found its rhythm in the softest of moments. A glance, a laugh, fingers interlaced — nothing loud, nothing grand, just the tender language two hearts know by heart. They sat on worn stone steps, where history lingers, yet it was their story that stole the spotlight. One of comfort and quiet devotion, of familiar warmth wrapped in beige coats and smiles that say “you’re home.” Around ancient pillars, they played like children — light on their feet, full of joy, as if the city itself had whispered, “This is your stage.”

The golden hour held its breath for them. And in those fleeting minutes, Brussels became more than just a city — it became a witness to a little love, wrapped in light, held in time for Chris and Prisca.