The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting Ellara's room in soft gold. She blinked awake to the faint sound of someone humming — off-key, but passionately.
She groaned. "Julian…"
A familiar voice sang from the adjoining bathroom, "Good morning to the land of espresso and heartbreak!"
Ellara threw a pillow at the door. "It's eight a.m.!"
The door opened and Julian stepped out, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping. "Exactly. Perfect hour to start the day with enthusiasm and questionable singing."
She sat up, squinting. "Did you use my shampoo again?"
He smiled innocently. "Maybe. But it's not my fault you buy expensive things that smell divine."
"Julian," she warned.
"Fine," he said, laughing. "I'll replace it. Eventually. Possibly."
She shook her head, hiding a smile. "You're impossible."
"I prefer irreplaceable."
---
Downstairs, the smell of breakfast — coffee, butter, and something sweet — filled the air.
Sofia was already seated at the head of the table, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she scanned a stack of letters.
"Good morning, cara mia," she said warmly when Ellara entered. "Did you sleep well?"
Ellara kissed her mother's cheek. "Like a rock."
Julian followed behind, dressed impeccably for someone who'd woken up thirty minutes ago. "Mrs. Romano—oh, I mean, Sofia—can I just say, I've been here less than twenty-four hours, and this house has already raised my standards for breakfast."
Sofia chuckled. "Then you must thank Lucia. She's been making pastries since dawn."
"Lucia," Julian said dramatically to the maid, "I will build a statue of you in my heart."
Lucia blushed. "Grazie, signore."
Ellara rolled her eyes, but her mother smiled. "You've brought a very lively friend home, amore mio."
"He's a walking hurricane," Ellara muttered.
"I heard that!" Julian called, taking another croissant. "And I'm proud of it."
---
Later that morning, Ellara walked through the garden alone, her fingers brushing against the lavender plants. The estate felt alive again, filled with the familiar rhythm of staff chatter and the sound of wind through the trees. Yet beneath the calm, she couldn't ignore the unease curling in her stomach — a sense of anticipation she couldn't name.
"Deep in thought?"
She turned to find Lorenzo leaning against the stone railing, a cup of coffee in hand.
"Something like that," she said softly.
"You've been quiet," he noted. "That's usually Marco's job."
She smirked. "You're confusing quiet with thinking."
He chuckled. "Fair point. Still, you look like someone carrying a secret."
Ellara looked away. "Maybe I am."
Lorenzo studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, when you're ready to talk, you know where to find me."
He started to walk off, but then turned back, smirking. "Also, Julian broke one of Marco's wine glasses. I'd suggest hiding before the war starts."
Ellara groaned. "Oh, no."
---
Sure enough, when she entered the living room, Marco stood by the minibar, glaring at Julian.
"It was an accident!" Julian protested, hands up. "I was gesturing dramatically—"
"You always gesture dramatically!" Marco snapped.
"Exactly! So technically, you should've expected it!"
"Expected you to break a crystal glass worth two hundred euros?"
Julian gasped. "Two hundred? For something you drink out of?"
"It's not just 'something,'" Marco said through gritted teeth. "It's a limited—"
"Okay, okay," Ellara cut in quickly, stepping between them. "Before this becomes World War Wine, let's take a breath."
"Your friend is chaos," Marco muttered.
Julian placed a hand on his chest. "And yet somehow, fabulous."
Ellara sighed. "Julian, apologize."
He looked wounded. "I'm an artist. I don't apologize—"
"Julian."
He deflated. "Fine. I'm sorry your overpriced glass couldn't handle passion."
"Julian!"
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!"
Marco grunted but looked slightly amused.
Sofia's voice floated in from the hallway, calm and amused. "Boys, if you're going to argue, at least do it somewhere that doesn't echo through the house."
Julian blinked. "Did she just call me a boy?"
"Take it as a compliment," Ellara said, laughing.
---
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills, Ellara found herself sitting by her bedroom window again. The laughter and noise from earlier had faded into a comfortable silence.
Julian peeked in. "You're thinking again."
She smiled faintly. "Can't help it."
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. "Homesickness?"
"Maybe. Or maybe it's just… everything feels too normal after being gone for so long."
He nodded slowly. "You know, normal isn't bad. It just takes time to fit into again."
She looked at him, eyes soft. "How do you always know what to say?"
"Because I talk too much," he said simply, and she laughed.
For a while, they sat in silence — two friends surrounded by fading light and quiet thoughts.
And far away, in another estate not too distant, a man sat at his grand piano, running his fingers absently over the keys. He paused, then looked toward the window, as though something — or someone — had brushed against his mind.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But soon, their worlds would collide again.