The villa was quiet as Bianca and Matteo stepped inside, the warmth of the dimly lit hallway wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. The echoes of their footsteps filled the space between them, but neither spoke, their unspoken emotions hanging in the air.

Bianca felt a nervous flutter in her chest as Matteo’s hand remained in hers, his thumb tracing gentle circles against her skin. She glanced up at him, noting the way his gaze softened as he studied her, as if memorizing every detail of her face.

“Would you like some wine?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Matteo’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Are you trying to calm your nerves, or mine?”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she led him toward the small sitting room. “Maybe both.”

Matteo followed, watching as she poured two glasses of deep red wine, the aroma filling the space between them. He took his glass and settled onto the couch, his eyes never leaving her as she sat beside him.

Bianca took a sip, savoring the familiar taste before finally turning toward him. “Tonight felt… different,” she admitted. “Like something shifted.”

Matteo nodded, setting his glass down on the coffee table. “That’s because it did. We’ve been dancing around this for too long, Bianca. And I don’t want to waste another second pretending that what we feel isn’t real.”

Her heart pounded at his words. “It scares me,” she whispered. “Because what if we let ourselves believe in this again, and it all falls apart?”

Matteo reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “Then we fight for it,” he said. “We fight for us.”

Bianca inhaled deeply, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but all she saw was certainty. She squeezed his hand, a silent acknowledgment that she was willing to try.

Matteo shifted closer, his free hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I meant what I said, Bianca. I’m not going anywhere. And if you’ll have me, I want to build something real with you.”

A lump formed in her throat as she stared at him, the weight of his words settling deep in her heart. For years, she had convinced herself that Matteo was her past—something beautiful but fleeting. But now, with him sitting beside her, his touch grounding her, she realized that maybe, just maybe, he could be her future too.

Without another word, she leaned in, her lips capturing his in a slow, lingering kiss. Matteo responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer as if he never wanted to let go.

When they finally broke apart, Bianca rested her forehead against his, a small, contented sigh escaping her lips. “Stay tonight,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Matteo smiled against her skin, his arms tightening around her. “As long as you’ll have me, I’m not leaving.”

And for the first time in a long time, Bianca let herself believe that love, real and unwavering, was possible again.