They met their families on the steps of the town hall just before eleven. The ceremony itself lasted twenty minutes, and most of it was spent holding hands and trying not to laugh at Elias’s nervous grin.

Afterwards we walked. Through the Marais, past a bakery where the owner handed them two warm croissants, across a bridge where Nora finally kicked off her heels. The portraits happened along the way, never staged for long, always close to whatever was happening next.

The evening ended at a small bistro they had booked out for the night. Plates were passed across the table, an uncle gave a speech that nobody had planned, and the last guests left well after midnight. It was a big day kept beautifully small.