Clara looked between the two men. Her heart felt as though it were being ripped in two. She thought of the house by the wildflower fields. She thought of the Parisian streets and the thrill of the unknown.
She walked over to Leo. She took his hands, kissing his knuckles gently. Tears flowed freely down her face.
"You are the best part of my life, Leo," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You taught me how to love. You kept me safe."
Leo closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. He squeezed her hands, then slowly, deliberately, let them go. "Fly, Clara," he whispered back. "Just promise you'll paint the ocean for me sometimes."
Clara nodded, unable to speak through her sobs. She took a step back, leaving the safety of the harbor.
She turned to Julian. The fierce, demanding look in his eyes had softened into something vulnerable, something resembling awe. He held out his hand.
Clara took a deep breath, letting the crisp, salty air fill her lungs. She placed her hand in Julian's. The electric shock was still there, but beneath it, she felt the terrifying, exhilarating thrill of a ship untying its moorings, ready to face the open sea.
As they walked away from the terrace, leaving the twinkling lights of the gala behind, Clara looked back one last time. Leo was standing by the balustrade, looking out at the water, a solitary figure against the vastness of the night.
She knew a part of her heart would always remain in San Marino, anchored by the boy with the amber eyes. But as she turned forward, walking into the dark, starlit night with Julian, she knew she had made her choice.
She was no longer afraid of the storm. She was ready to become part of it.