The hilly village had an elegant atmosphere. At the end of the street, Vivian pulled the Jaguar in front of a big, beautiful, three-story house with a pitched, stone-tiled roof. The façade was characterized by bright red bricks and a little turret on the left side of the house.
Vivian stopped the engine. Both hands rested on the steering wheel, and she sighed.
“You came to hear a story,” she said, staring off at the climbing plants that partly covered the entrance to the home. The plants grew all the way up to the little balcony on the first floor just above the door. “It isn’t a nice story. And mainly that’s my fault.” She sighed again, then turned to him. “At the time I thought I was doing the right thing. You know, I love him so much, too. But sometimes love isn’t enough…you have to d
