The morning breeze carried the scent of ripe grapes and sun-warmed earth as Sofia Romano crossed the courtyard of her family's vineyard. The Romani Vineyards had been in her family for generations, stretching across the rolling Tuscan hills in graceful arcs of green. From the moment she was born, Sofia had breathed this landscape — the soil, the vines, the ancient stone villa that creaked with the weight of history.
But sometimes, it felt like the vineyard breathed her too… holding her in place, like roots around her ankles.
She loved it, yes. Loved her family, the quiet beauty, the way the hills glowed honey-gold in the evening. But Sofia had always carried a dream stitched into her heart — one that tugged her beyond the borders of Monteluce. She wanted to study, travel, learn more than what this small town allowed. Yet each time she thought about leaving, a knot of guilt tightened inside her. Her family needed her. Her father wasn't as strong as he used to be. Her younger brother was too busy with his own ambitions to help with the vineyard.
Responsibility.
Tradition.
Expectation.
These were the invisible threads of her life — strong enough to hold her back, gentle enough to make her hesitate before breaking them.
"Tesoro, you're awake early," her father called from the veranda, his gray hair catching the light. He sat at a small wooden table, sipping espresso and scanning the newspaper with half-hearted interest.
"I have a class project to finish at the library," she said, kissing his cheek. "And Marta is meeting me later."
"You work too hard," he murmured, looking at her with soft pride. "Your mother was the same."
Sofia smiled. She liked being compared to her mother — a woman whose kindness was legendary in town, whose laughter people swore could brighten even the gloomiest morning. She had died young, but her memory lived everywhere: in the wildflowers that grew near the vineyard's edge, in the recipes Sofia still tried to recreate, and in the small dimple Sofia shared with her when she smiled wide enough.
"I'll be home by lunch," Sofia promised, grabbing her bag before walking toward the main road.
As she stepped outside the vineyard gates, the sun greeted her with warmth that felt like a soft embrace. It was one of those days where the world seemed painted in richer colors — the deep greens of the vineyards, the burnt-orange roofs, the cobalt sky stretching overhead. It made her feel that life could be bigger than she allowed it to be.
"Sofia! Wait!"
Marta came rushing down the street, her curly hair bouncing wildly. "You didn't tell me you saw Ethan this morning!"
Sofia flushed immediately. "How did you—?"
"Everyone knows," Marta said dramatically. "The old ladies at the bakery were buzzing about it."
Sofia groaned. Monteluce was small, yes. And unbearably observant.
"It was nothing," she said quickly, though her heart betrayed her — fluttering at the memory of Ethan's smile.
Nothing.
Except she couldn't stop thinking about him.
Ever since the day he arrived in town months ago, Sofia found herself turning corners hoping to glimpse him, slowing her steps when she spotted him fixing something, pretending not to stare when he spoke in that gentle, slightly gravelly voice. Ethan Hayes was… different. He wasn't like the local boys who grew up knowing every inch of this town, boys who wanted to marry someone like her and plant their roots permanently in Monteluce.
Ethan was a wanderer.
A traveler with soft eyes and guarded secrets.
A man carrying the kind of hurt you could sense even if he never spoke a word about it.
She had felt drawn to him long before she ever admitted it to herself.
Marta looped her arm through Sofia's. "Are you going to talk to him at the festival tonight?"
"I… invited him," Sofia confessed softly.
Marta stopped dead in the street. "You what! Sofia Romano, you didn't!"
Sofia covered her face with both hands. "It just came out—I didn't plan it."
"But you wanted him to come," Marta teased, nudging her. "Don't lie."
Sofia lowered her hands, her smile timid but sincere. "Maybe. I don't know. He's…" She trailed off, searching for the right words. "There's something about him. Something that makes me curious."
"Curious," Marta snickered. "Right."
Sofia rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed again. Still, Marta's teasing didn't bother her. In fact, it made her heart flutter even more, because the truth was simple: Ethan made her feel something she rarely felt in Monteluce.
Possibility.
As they walked toward the library, Sofia's thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning — the look he gave her, the way his expression softened when she spoke, the subtle surprise in his blue eyes when she invited him. She wasn't used to making such bold moves, but Ethan… he made the walls she built around herself feel less necessary.
Inside the library, Sofia settled at a table near the window, opening her books. Marta left after a quick hug, promising to meet her later. For a while, Sofia tried to focus on her assignment — history essays waited, deadlines loomed — but her mind kept replaying the same moment.
"I'll be there."
The way Ethan said it.
Not casually. Not politely.
With intention.
Her pulse sped up despite herself.
"Sofia!"
The librarian, a thin elderly man with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, approached with a letter in hand. "This arrived for you."
"For me?"
She took it, puzzled. The envelope was stamped with the emblem of the University of Florence.
Her breath hitched.
She tore it open, eyes scanning the page.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…
Study abroad program… Paris… starting next semester…
The words blurred for a moment, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Accepted.
Paris.
A dream she had hidden deep inside because she never believed she could actually go.
Her hands trembled, excitement rising like a wave… but then —
Her father.
The vineyard.
The expectations.
The guilt.
And then Ethan.
He wasn't supposed to be a factor… but suddenly he was.
"What are you waiting for?" Marta asked breathlessly when Sofia told her later. "This is the moment you've been waiting for since forever."
"I know," Sofia whispered. "But leaving feels… wrong. Selfish."
"No. Staying for the wrong reasons is selfish."
Sofia bit her lip. "And what about Ethan?"
Marta looked at her softly. "He can't be the reason you stay… and he shouldn't be the reason you leave. This is your life, Sofia."
Sofia didn't answer. The letter felt heavy in her hands. Her future — bright and possible — suddenly tangled with emotions she didn't know how to separate.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills and the town prepared for the festival, Sofia stood before her mirror, smoothing her dress, her heart torn between two worlds.
A dream calling her forward.
A family holding her back.
And a man she barely knew, yet felt connected to in a way she couldn't explain.
Her pulse quickened when she imagined seeing Ethan again.
Under the warm glow of lantern lights.
Under the open Tuscan sky.
Under a life that suddenly felt too small and too big all at once.
Tonight, she thought, might change everything.
She didn't know if she wanted it to…
or feared that it would.