![THE INK WELL.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/ricardo993/AK9RAqbWtJjAcPCDzs7wLajuD2EuiBz5Xjw8vxc9EBdQZ6whT9VL4NcAm1NWzg3.png)

![halo7.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/ricardo993/23tbiniv2b3gUuMFBXfAaqoWF6tLNvV8o2zpxvy5R9JCkcM8bY8fh7ofJZUpRe1tzfSNK.png)

I still remember these dates when I was only 19 years old. I was a young man with a crush. I also remember falling in love with about five girls at the same time. It was a busy time in Paris because the Olympic Games were taking place. Olympic Games that most people did not know about because there was never an opening ceremony. I didn't even know about it.

What I remember was watching this beautiful little woman warming up for the marathon. Her name was Juliette Leblanc, a Frenchwoman who came from the vineyards. She had participated in the Olympic trials, despite the opposition to women in sports. I admired her from the first moment. Her beauty shook me out of my childhood and made me a man because until then I had only thought about partying and having fun without thinking about the consequences.

I thought I was handsome, but when I approached Juliette, she didn't fall for my charms. She was tough and rejected me the first time I tried to seduce her. She looked me up and down as if I was nothing. In truth, I was nothing, just a guy who worked in a bakery and wandered the streets of Paris looking for skirts. She was a girl from the country, owner of a large vineyard, and of course, she already knew Paris.

I didn't give up. She could have gone to the best places in Paris, like fancy restaurants, or visited the most exclusive places in the city. But I had my tricks.

Juliette was a proud and stubborn girl who would not give up. I attended her test and witnessed what she did to achieve her goal. She competed alone against a hundred men, she was the butterfly among the moths. I witnessed how the others, the men, despised her just for being there and competing with them. They were not the only ones, in the newspapers, many denigrated the women who tried to compete with the men. But that was what made me fall in love with her, she was the white rose among a hundred red roses. I had been with girls who would throw themselves into your arms with a few simple prayers, I could not blame them. And there was Juliette, a girl who, although she had approached me casually, had rejected me, anticipating my moves.

But my persistence made the difference. I had to fight for her attention. She saw me on the day of her competition. I gave her the most ridiculous cheers, so she wouldn't give up. I also ran the marathon that day to show her my perseverance. I was at mile 5, then mile 15, and from there through the streets, until I saw her at mile 23. When I got to the finish line, I was hoarse and drenched in sweat, but she could see me cheering her on. She finished the last mile with overwhelming energy.

Although she didn't win the bronze medal, she did well for a woman. She came in 14th out of all the other competitors, I don't remember how many there were, but there were quite a few.

Although she made it to the finish line, her parents and family were not there to congratulate her on this great achievement, which was a milestone in Olympic history. In those days, there was less security and protocol, so I continued to support her. I attribute my good fortune to the fact that I was exhausted and stressed from all the walking. 42 km was not easy to digest, I could not even accomplish such a feat. When I approached her, I stopped for a few seconds to admire her, as one should, and applauded, even though I was the only one.

Juliette allowed me to take off her shoes and see the injuries on her feet. She had blisters full of blood and also some injured toenails, so I did the sensible thing and cleaned them with what I had at hand, a clean cloth and warm water. She let me, she looked at me with curiosity. No longer with contempt or superiority, but with a curiosity to know me.

I didn't speak or say anything, I just did it and when she was done, she looked at me again.

I remember her saying to me, *"Who are you and where do you live?"*

She also remembered how I answered, *"I am Jaime Buendia and I live around here."*

What I said was hit and miss, and even though I didn't understand myself, I thought she would see me as a street beggar, but apparently, she got the message.

*"I'm at the Hotel Legentil."*

That was the only conversation we had, I also received encrypted messages. The next day I dutifully showed up at the hotel, trying to look as smart as possible, but I didn't have the clothes to afford them.

She knew I was coming because she was waiting for me in the lobby. She was dressed in a simple but simply beautiful way, to describe her is counterproductive because I don't think words can ever represent the magnitude of the beauty I witnessed. But the white dress emphasized the name I secretly had for her, "The White Rose".

 The games weren't over yet, so she gave me a challenge.

*"Take me to the other competitions. Try to impress me, show me what you are worth. If you fail, this will be the only date you will ever have with me, do you understand?"*

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. I accepted the challenge. She found herself, without expecting it, immersed in the world she lived in. The Paris of 1900. I took her to see the contests, but along the way, I took her to viewpoints she had never seen, to places where she could taste the most humble but delicious foods, and I dragged her through the most mysterious and beautiful streets of the city. I covered her heart with the attention that lowered her defenses.

Juliette marveled at everything I showed her. On that first date, I enjoyed watching her, there was no kissing or hugging. But Juliette's face expressed freedom and pleasure beyond the sexual, it was something that changed me completely. Looking at this radiance, I knew that my search for skirts was over.

We had many more dates during the Olympics. When they were over, she returned to her hometown. But the story didn't end there, the letters continued, too many letters.
Until there was one that strengthened our relationship even more.

"*Jaime, I'm not looking for a summer fling, I want something serious and lasting. Something that will not fizzle out in the first installment of love. I'm not going to chase after your kisses or your attentions. You choose what you want.*

*Sincerely, Juliette*"

 So when I turned 28, we got married, no matter that she was 7 years older than me, no matter that she was stubborn and determined when she set her mind to a goal, no matter that I was of little means.

What she did for me, and what I did for her, remains another of the many stories I have to tell. It is only the beginning of the story of my romance that began in those years in Paris in 1900.

![halo7.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/ricardo993/23tbiniv2b3gUuMFBXfAaqoWF6tLNvV8o2zpxvy5R9JCkcM8bY8fh7ofJZUpRe1tzfSNK.png)

![banner ultimo diseño (2).png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/ricardo993/23tveUtXedAugjSWEsgnwJoeTiKisUPdrCApa6RJekxPmFoVm1oqVLbB9ccGEfSHKrGhp.png)
<center><sub>Cover taken with Xiaomi Redmi Note 9 S and Banner made in Canva; Separators made in photoshop</sub></center>