Chapter 7 – Echoes
Florence, Present Day
Sofia jolted awake, heart pounding like a war drum.
The dream had been vivid—too vivid.
She had been standing in a candlelit chapel, her fingers burning with the heat of a whispered vow. A man's voice—deep, urgent—called her name. She had looked up to see storm-gray eyes burning through the darkness.
The memory—or was it?—lingered as she sat up, sweat damp on her brow.
Outside, the villa was still. But inside, something was shifting.
Later that morning, she met Marco by the old stables.
He was already waiting, hands tucked into his pockets, a look of quiet determination on his face.
"Sofia," he began, "there's something I need to tell you."
She frowned, surprised by the seriousness.
"I've been thinking about what you said the other day—the dreams, the feeling that this place remembers us."
He hesitated, then continued.
"My grandfather used to tell stories about a forbidden love that took place here—between a noblewoman and a stable hand. That the family was torn apart by it, and the stable hand disappeared suddenly."
Sofia's breath caught. "You mean Beatrice and Matteo?"
Marco nodded. "Yes. And... sometimes, I feel like I'm more connected to that story than I should be."
Sofia's eyes searched his. "What do you mean?"
He swallowed. "Sometimes, I dream too. Not of myself—but of a man living hundreds of years ago. Fighting for someone he loved. I thought I was going crazy."
They stood in silence, the weight of centuries pressing between them.
"Maybe," Sofia said softly, "we're not who we think we are. Maybe we're part of a story that never really ended."
Marco smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Then maybe it's time to find out how it ends."