Barcelona revealed itself to them slowly, through shifting sunlight and the hypnotic rhythms of the city. From the moment their car glided out of the airport's shaded arrivals lane and into the pulse of Catalonia's capital, Yura could feel the tightness in her chest begin to loosen. The city outside the window was nothing like home—there was something both wild and patient in the palm-lined avenues, the tangled alleys blooming with bright graffiti, the intricate balconies where laundry fluttered in the sea breeze. The air itself felt different, cleaner, spiced with salt and the promise of summer.
Joon-ho squeezed her hand as the driver took them along the coastline. "You're quiet," he said gently.
Yura smiled, still pressed to the glass. "I'm trying to remember every detail. If I close my eyes, I'm afraid it'll disappear."
He studied her profile, the soft flush of excitement on her cheeks. "We'll make new memories here. You'll have plenty of time to get used to paradise."
