Chapter 25
The next morning, I woke to the soft rustle of fabric and the smell of warm lavender and something else–earthy and fresh, like the forest after rain. For a moment, I thought I was still dreaming, caught in the remnants of a memory I wasn’t ready to let go of.
But then I felt it.
The warmth… His arms were still around me.
Francesco. He hadn’t left.
So, it wasn’t dream…
We had fallen asleep there, on the balcony, with the moon as our only witness. I was curled against his chest, wrapped in his embrace like it was the only thing tethering me to the world. And maybe, in a way, it was.
My eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft morning light spilling over the city. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet—just enough to cast a golden glow over the terracotta rooftops of Florence.
Carefully, I lifted my head. My movements must’ve stirred him, because his arms tightened briefly around me before relaxing.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.
I looked up at him, at the golden flecks still present in his eyes even in the dim light. He was watching me closely, like I might disappear if he blinked.
“You stayed,” I said softly.
He nodded once. “Of course.”
We sat in silence for a moment, the city slowly waking around us. Somewhere below, a car honked. Birds began to chirp, as if announcing the arrival of
something more than a new day.
It was my birthday.
I hadn’t forgotten.
But this time, it didn’t feel as heavy. Not with him here. Not with Mika’s faint presence still lingering in the back of my mind, like a flicker of hope.
“I felt her last night,” I said, more to myself than him. “Mika.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I know. I could feel the shift in your aura. You’re not as alone as you think.”
A soft smile tugged at the corners of my lips. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
This is something… New…
Something that I never thought could happen to me.
He looked at me like he wanted to say more, but instead he gently reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Come,” he said after a moment, rising to his feet with a grace that reminded me just how inhumanly powerful he was. He held out his hand to me. “I have something to show you.”
I hesitated. “What about Audrey? She might-)
“She’s safe. And she knows you’re with me
My heart skipped at the certainty in his voice.
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Chapter 25
Itook his hand.
His fingers closed around mine, strong and sure.
We drove through the winding streets of Florence, the world slowly coming alive as locals opened their shops and the scent of fresh bread and coffee floated through the air. I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t need to. I trusted him.
Eventually, we left the city behind, driving toward the hills that cradled Florence in their gentle embrace. The car climbed higher, the scenery changing from urban charm to sprawling vineyards and cypress trees.
Finally, he pulled into a hidden driveway flanked by old stone columns, ivy winding up their sides like nature’s paintbrush.
“Where are we?” I asked, stepping out.
He didn’t answer right away. Just motioned for me to follow.
The path led to an old villa–ancient yet alive with quiet beauty. Terracotta tiles, wrought iron balconies, and gardens blooming with flowers that shouldn’t have survived the late April cold.
We walked to the edge of the hill, where a low wall overlooked the valley below.
Wow… The view was breathtaking.
“This was Anastasia’s favorite place,” Francesco said finally. “She used to come here when the world felt too heavy. It’s been closed off for a long time, but… I think it’s time to open it again.”
My chest ached at the honesty in his voice. “Why bring me here?” I give him a small smile.
He looked at me then, and something shifted in the air.
“Because you remind me of her, and yet… you’re not her. You’re something else entirely. Something I never expected.”
The wind danced around us, lifting strands of my hair.
He stepped closer. “You saved me, Ellaine. That day in the forest, and every night since when you sat under the moon, you reminded me that grief doesn’t mean the end.”
I swallowed hard; my throat tight.
I never thought could hear beautiful words coming from a man about myself.
It feels like I matter…
“You saved me too,” I whispered.
He smiled then–not the polite, reserved smile I’d seen before, but something soft and real.
“Happy birthday, Ellaine.”
I blinked then smile wider.
“Wait here,” he said.
He disappeared inside the villa, and I stood there, the wind tugging at my sweater, heart racing.
A few moments later, he returned carrying something delicate.
A bouquet of roses.
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But not just any roses. They were blue. The rare, Ethereal, it is Anastasia Roses.
I stared, breath caught.
“This is the original place where it blooms beautifully,” he said, handing them to me. “They haven’t bloomed in years—not since she passed. But they started blooming again… after you came.”
Tears welled in my eyes.
“Really?” I whispered.
He reached out, brushing a thumb across my cheek.
“It’s as if even Anastasia knew… you’re my second chance, Ellaine.”
Time stopped.
I couldn’t breathe.
My chest tightened with the weight of a thousand memories–of rejection, of pain, of Ruben’s voice telling me I wasn’t enough. I wanted to believe him— Francesco–but something inside me trembled, afraid to open that door again.
Then, I felt her.
Mika.
– མནྟདྡྷནཾ, སེན
Her presence surged through me, radiant and whole.
‘You’re not broken, El. You were always meant to rise.‘
Tears welled in my eyes as a warmth bloomed in my chest, softer than fire, stronger than steel.
“I…” I hesitated, voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared.”
Francesco stepped closer, brushing a thumb gently across my cheek. “So am I,” he said. “But I’d rather face the unknown with you than live another day without this… without us.”
My breath hitched.
A shimmer of silver light danced across my vision.
And then–my soul recognized his.
The bond clicked into place.
Not with Ruben but with Francesco.
My knees buckled, but he caught me, arms sure and steady.
“It’s okay,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
I clung to him, overwhelmed by everything–grief, joy, hope, and something deeper, wilder.
Love?
Maybe not yet. But the seed had taken root.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed it might bloom.
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Chapter 25
I tilted my head, eyes catching the valley below. The golden sunlight kissed the hills, painting them in soft hues of rose and gold.
“I want to paint this,” I whispered.
He looked down at me, a gentle smile curving his lips. “we can always come back. As often as you like!”
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