They walked through the property in calm silence, as if trying to memorize every corner.
For Liam Thomas, each room stirred a different feeling.
The living room reminded him of family gatherings he never had,
and the kitchen smelled like the warm bread of his childhood memory.
For Alessia, it was more complicated.
As she stepped through the hallways, every movement felt like a declaration against centuries of detachment.
She stopped before a window where the light fell soft and golden upon the floor, like a divine invitation, and closed her eyes for a moment.
Here… something could be born that doesn't have to die, she thought.
And she knew then—
beyond walls and wood and foundation—
this house had the power to make her feel human again.
The architecture was sober but modern.
White marble countertops and oak shelves in the kitchen.
A wide living room with a stone fireplace, wooden beams across the ceiling, and large windows opening onto a garden that looked lifted out of a storybook.
The pool in the back shimmered like a mirror beneath the sun, and the surrounding trees offered shade and privacy.
A single swing hung from a thick branch; Liam paused there, quietly imagining—for the first time in years—the possibility of family.
Alessia paused in a room where a large mirror hung over an antique dresser.
She stood still.
Not because of vanity—
but because mirrors reminded her of absence.
She turned away, pretending to examine the furniture, while something tightened in her chest.
Meanwhile, Liam had stopped in a small built-in library.
His fingers traced the wood as if he already saw his favorite books there,
imagined quiet nights, a glass of wine, soft music, and Alessia reading beside him.
—Do you see yourself cooking here? —she asked from the kitchen doorway, a playful smile on her lips.
—Only if you're the one cleaning afterward —he answered, laughing, filling the space with warmth.
The real estate agent turned toward them with a folder in her hands.
—So? Are you interested?
Alessia and Liam didn't need to speak.
The answer was already glowing in their eyes.
—Yes, we want it —they said almost in unison.
—Wonderful. The price is four hundred thousand dollars —the agent added, smiling.
Alessia nodded without hesitation—
with the poised certainty of someone used to sealing ancient treaties.
—That's fine. Just give me the documents.
Liam watched her.
There was something in her he could never quite define.
A confidence that felt older than time.
An effortless command.
It made him feel small—and incredibly fortunate.
They spent the next two nights in a nearby hotel.
The room was simple: heavy curtains, soft cotton sheets, an antique lamp casting warm light across their faces.
After dinner the first night, Liam took out a small notebook and began sketching.
Alessia watched him, wrapped in a sheet, curiosity soft in her expression.
—What are you drawing? —she asked.
—Ideas. Things I'd like for our house. —He turned the page toward her: a garden, a hammock, a small table with two chairs.
Alessia smiled.
She sat beside him.
—And this one? —she asked, pointing to a faint figure drawn beside the hammock.
—You —he answered, without thinking.
She fell silent.
Touched the page with her fingertips.
Then leaned in and kissed him.
Not with urgency—
but with tenderness, promise, and acceptance.
That night they slept wrapped in each other—
as if the world were no larger than the space their bodies occupied.
Their souls in transit,
their silence full,
their affection weightless.
The morning of the move rose warm and clear—
a blessing disguised as good weather.
Trucks unloaded boxes in the driveway as Liam worked enthusiastically, laughing whenever Alessia tripped on something.
At one point, she slid and fell gently onto a rolled-up rug, and he hurried to help her.
—I never imagined starting this chapter… and especially not with you —he said, offering his hand with an honest smile.
She looked at him, her eyes catching a mixture of surprise, gratitude, and fear.
—Do you feel I pushed you into this? —she asked quietly.
Liam took her hand—firm, unwavering.
—No. I am exactly where I want to be.
I'm in love with you.
And I want all of this—with you.
She lowered her gaze—not from shame, but because the emotion weighed more than she allowed herself to show.
Her fingers trembled slightly, but inside, her heart felt more alive than it had in centuries.
That night, as he slept, Alessia remained seated at the edge of the bed, wrapped in a white sheet.
She looked out the open window, letting the wind brush her skin as if nature itself were trying to comfort her.
Crickets murmured outside.
The garden glowed beneath the watchful moon.
I am making a mistake. This goes against everything I am. Everything I swore to protect…
But I cannot lose this. I cannot lose him.
He awakened the woman I believed dead long ago.
If I must face the council, the clans, history itself…
I will.
Because this time… I want to live to love.
The next morning, as they sorted boxes, a man approached from the house next door.
He looked to be in his early thirties, thin-framed glasses, relaxed posture—
but his eyes held a sharp intensity, as if every detail were a puzzle piece he was quietly fitting together.
—Hello —he said, lifted a hand, smiling politely but speaking slowly, like someone who chooses every word—. So you bought the old mansion.
His gaze lingered on Alessia just one second too long.
Not curiosity—
assessment.
The smile stayed.
The eyes told another story.
—That house has… history —he murmured, almost whispering.
Then cleared his throat, as if he'd revealed too much.
—I'm Edgar. Your neighbor.
Liam greeted him kindly.
Alessia stepped forward and shook his hand.
The moment their skin touched—
a chill ran through her.
Not fear.
Recognition.
He doesn't know what I am… but something in me unsettles him.
Edgar smiled again, offered a cordial farewell, and walked back toward his house.
Before entering, he turned—and looked at Alessia once more, eyes narrowing, as if trying to catch a truth just out of reach.
The wind lifted her hair.
A quiet warning.
Her smile did not falter.
But inside—
she was already preparing for what was coming.
Because peace, in her world, is always the prelude.