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I stand there for a long moment, the silence settling heavy.

I’ve seen her a handful of times over the years, but the Nora I remember was sunshine on legs, always smiling, always laughing at something D said or rolling her eyes while he grinned at her like an idiot.

The woman I just saw? There’s no sunshine left. She’s drowning, and she’s not even trying to swim back to the surface.

I sigh.

Why the hell is she here all alone? I never thought she’d end up here.

Then music drifts through the open windows. Italian.

Soft. Sad.

And her voice follows, singing along, rough, breaking in places she can’t hold together.

I stare at the house.

She’s not okay.

And as much as I want to leave it alone, not my problem, not my business...

I couldn’t help Damiano live. But I can be there for his wife. It’s what he would’ve wanted.

I walk back to Indigo and find her in the corner, still defensive.

“New neighbor.” I nod toward Damiano’s old house.

Indigo shifts, her body tightening, head lifting just enough to keep distance.

“Yeah... looks like you’re not the only one lashing out.”

She studies me. I hold her gaze.

“You’ll trust me one day.”

CHAPTER 6

Eleonora

As soon as the door closes behind me, a knot forms in my throat.

Damiano spoke about this place almost every day. He kept some of his things here for when he came back, usually during the summer or whenever something needed fixing. A fence went down. The barn needed work. There was always something, and somehow it usually ended with him and Jude spending a weekend fixing it together.

He never stayed long, and I always had classes or work.

But we were planning to come here together. Stay the whole summer and see how I liked it. See if I could picture myself living here. Maybe even open Tirreno here one day.

We even had the plane tickets.

But then...

I shake the thought away before it can settle.

The house is exactly how I imagined it.

Warm honey-colored wood stretches from floor to ceiling, wrapping the entire place in a quiet kind of warmth. Thick beams run across the ceiling above me and a stone fireplace anchors the living room, the worn leather couch facing it like it has welcomed generations home after long days outside. The kitchen opens into the living space, simple and lived in, with wooden cabinets, a large farmhouse table and wide windows that flood everything with afternoon light. Beyond the glass, endless fields roll toward the mountains, horses grazing lazily behind white fences.

It feels...