The sunset melted slowly behind the hills, staining the rows of vines in gold and crimson, undulating like an ancient sea. Bianca and Leonardo had worked until late, shoulder to shoulder among the shoots and cords. Physical fatigue had bound them in a silent complicity, heavy with something pressing to surface.

At the end of the day, he had insisted:
"Come have dinner at my place. It's nothing elaborate, but at least you won't eat alone."

She hesitated for a moment, but the desire to stay to stretch out that suspended time won over caution.

Leonardo's house was different from Bianca's: more modern, essential, yet warm. A lit fireplace cast coppery reflections on the pale walls. On the table, a simple meal: fragrant bread, a dish of pasta with garden tomatoes, a bottle already uncorked.

"You don't have to play the gentleman," she said as she sat down.

"It's not gallantry." Leonardo poured her a glass of deep red wine. "It's that life is too short not to share it."

Bianca lowered her gaze, unsettled by the ease with which he spoke such words. It wasn't rhetoric there was truth in his voice.

They ate, drank, talked. With every glass, every smile, the barriers between them thinned. Leonardo told a funny story about his first self-taught harvest, which had ended in disaster with bursting barrels. Bianca laughed, a clear, crystalline laugh she couldn't remember hearing from herself in years.

After dinner, they stepped out onto the patio. The sky was a black velvet sprinkled with stars. The air carried the scent of jasmine and earth, still damp from the storm days before. Bianca tilted her face upward, breathing deeply.

"I had forgotten how beautiful this silence can be... In Rome, it doesn't exist."

"It's a silence that speaks," he said, staring at the horizon. "If you know how to listen, it tells you who you really are."

Bianca looked at him, and in that instant felt an impulse she couldn't repress: the urge to draw closer. Leonardo sensed it. He didn't move right away, but when she lowered her eyes, his hand found hers.

The first kiss was sweet, but not hesitant. A gesture born of days of tension, stolen glances, unspoken words. Bianca surrendered to it, letting the abyss of mistrust be bridged for one night.

They moved back inside without ceasing to seek each other. Every gesture was slow, almost tentative, yet charged with intensity. Leonardo touched her hair, her neck, her lips, as if he wanted to memorize every part of her. Bianca who for years had built walls around her body and her heart felt her defenses crumble, one after another.

They loved each other with passion, but also with respect. There was hunger in their bodies, but also care. Every caress was an admission, every breath a surrender. The moonlight filtered through the windows, outlining their entwined forms, and time seemed to stand still.

For Bianca, it was a return to life.
For Leonardo, a suspension from the weight of memories.

When they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms, the night had carved something irreversible within them.

By morning, reality was waiting.

Bianca woke with sunlight filtering through the shutters. The bed beside her was empty. She rose, pulling on the shirt she had left on the chair, and found Leonardo near the window, already dressed, hands in his pockets.

"You're awake," he said, without fully turning.

"Yes..." she replied, with a smile that faded when she noticed the tension in his profile. "Has something happened?"

"I need to go to the cellar. There are urgent matters." His voice was neutral, distant, as if the previous night had never existed.

Bianca stared at him, incredulous. "That's it?"

Silence fell between them, heavy. Leonardo opened his mouth, then closed it, as if words eluded him. At last, he grabbed the keys from the table.
"I'll see you later."

The door closed behind him. Bianca stood still, her heart shattering. All the ghosts of the past surged back at once: used, forgotten, deceived. She had let go, and already she regretted it.

She dressed quickly, promising herself it would be the last time.

Meanwhile, a few kilometers away, Leonardo received an unwelcome visit.

The man waiting in his office had the sharp look of someone who knew no hesitation. A gray suit, leather briefcase, a cold voice.

"Architect Ferri, I've come to remind you of the agreements. The Ricci property will go to auction within six months. You hold the right of first refusal, but the bank wants guarantees."

Leonardo clenched his jaw. "I have no intention of taking advantage of this situation."

"Don't play the naïve." The lawyer leaned toward him, glasses reflecting the light. "You agreed from the beginning. You signed documents, made commitments. If you change your mind now, it won't be without consequences."

Leonardo shot to his feet, his face hard. "I won't leave her without a home."

The lawyer allowed himself a thin smile. "Do you really think you can hide it from her? The truth will come out, Ferri. And when it does, we'll see if that woman is still willing to look you in the eye."

He left, leaving behind a silence more oppressive than any storm.

Leonardo remained motionless, gaze lost. Deep down, he knew the lawyer was right: sooner or later, Bianca would discover that he had been part of that agreement. And that night, which for him had been real and full, for her would seem nothing but a lie.

At her family home, Bianca stared at the ceiling of her room. Her skin still remembered the warmth of Leonardo's hands, but her heart screamed to forget.

Never again, she told herself. I will not be deceived again.

She did not know that the secret that concerned her was already closer than she imagined.

Under the sky of Val d'Orcia

Clayton Nightwhisper - All rights reserved©