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The Italian Affair
Category: Romance
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The end.