ISABELLA

Chapter 2

ITALY, ROME

The plane landed with a jolt, and my chest tightened as the announcement came over the speakers in Italian and English. Benvenuti in Italia.

I just sat there, staring out the oval window. The land stretched out beneath the clouds — warm terracotta roofs, rolling hills in the distance, the sparkle of the sea. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, like a memory I couldn’t quite place.

I gathered my things, my fingers brushing over the worn leather strap of my carry-on. This was it. No turning back.

The airport was busy, a rush of languages blending together, luggage wheels clattering against tile. I moved through the crowd slowly, my heartbeat louder than the noise around me. Every step felt surreal. Three weeks ago, I’d been standing at my parents’ graveside. Now, I was here, beginning something I hadn’t planned for.

Nico.

He was leaning casually against a pillar near the arrivals exit, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Taller than I remembered, broad-shouldered, his pink hair falling messily across his forehead. He spotted me almost immediately, his face breaking into a grin I hadn’t seen in years.

“Isa!”

My lips curved without my permission. He pushed through the crowd, and before I could even set my bag down, his arms wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet the way he used to when we were kids.

I laughed softly, the sound surprising me — it had been so long since laughter felt natural. “Nico, put me down. You’re making a scene.”

“Let them stare,” he said, finally setting me back on the ground but keeping his hands on my shoulders, studying me. His eyes softened. “Dio mio… you’ve changed. But you’re still you. Little Isa.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not little anymore.”

“Not to me,” he teased, his smile faltering just slightly when he saw the shadow in my eyes. His tone gentled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. For… everything.”

The grief pressed against my ribs again, but I nodded. “Thank you.”

He didn’t push further. Instead, he grabbed my suitcase effortlessly. “Come on. mom’s waiting at home. She’s been talking about nothing else for days — ‘Isabella this, Isabella that.’ You’d think you were royalty the way she’s been preparing.”

I smirked faintly. “She always did fuss too much.”

We walked toward the car park together, the cool Italian air brushing against my skin as the automatic doors slid open. The scent hit me immediately — fresher, sharper than home, laced with salt from the sea and the faint aroma of roasted coffee from a nearby café.

Nico loaded my bags into the trunk of a sleek black car. He caught my expression and chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s not mine. mom insisted I borrow it so you’d have a ‘proper welcome.’”

As we got inside, the city stretched before us, alive with lights and motion. I pressed my forehead lightly to the glass, taking it all in — the architecture, the narrow streets, the people gesturing passionately as they talked. It was beautiful, overwhelming, intoxicating.

Nico glanced at me from the driver’s seat. “So… how does it feel? Italy, finally.”

I hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like I’m standing in someone else’s dream.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “Don’t worry, Isa. You’ll make it your own soon enough.”

I believed him.

The ride through the winding streets finally slowed as Nico turned into a gated driveway. My breath caught when I saw the house.

It wasn’t a palace, but it might as well have been. The villa was a soft cream color, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Vines crawled up the walls, dotted with pale flowers, and the scent of citrus drifted through the air from the grove of lemon trees nearby.

Nico parked and hopped out, grabbing my bag before I could protest. I followed him up the stone steps, the sound of birds echoing from somewhere in the garden.

The heavy wooden door opened before we even reached it.

“Isabella!”

My aunt’s voice wrapped around me before her arms did. She pulled me close, pressing kisses against my cheeks the way only she could, murmuring rapid Italian I barely caught. Her embrace was softer, rounder, more protective than I remembered. I let myself sink into it, closing my eyes for a brief second.

“Tía…” I whispered, my throat tightening.

She leaned back, her dark eyes glistening as she studied me. “How was your flight?. She looked at me, so beautiful. Your mama would…” Her words faltered, but she forced a smile and stroked my hair. “You’re home now. This is now your home.”

Before I could respond, a tiny whirlwind rushed into the entryway.

“Isa! Isa!”

I blinked down just in time to see a little girl throw herself at me, her curls bouncing wildly. Daniella. Eight years old and full of life, her small arms locked tightly around my waist.

I laughed softly, crouching to her level. “Daniella! You’ve gotten so big!”

She pouted dramatically. “I’m not big. Nico says I’m still a baby.”

“Because you are,” Nico teased from behind, setting my suitcase aside.

Daniella stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to me with wide brown eyes. “Are you really staying here now? Forever?”

Her innocent question hit me harder than I expected. I swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yes, Dani. I’m really staying.”

She squealed and grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the hallway. “Come on, I want to show you your room! Mama made it all pretty for you.”

I let her pull me along, my aunt and Nico trailing behind us.

Daniella pushed open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a room that stole my breath away.

The bed was covered in crisp white linen with soft blue accents. A vase of fresh flowers sat on the bedside table, their fragrance delicate. By the window, sheer curtains drifted lazily in the breeze, framing a view of the olive trees that stretched into the horizon.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

My aunt placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I wanted you to feel at peace here. This is your sanctuary, Isabella.”

I couldn’t speak. The weight in my chest lifted slightly, just enough for me to breathe deeper. Daniella climbed onto the bed and patted the space beside her, grinning.

“See? It’s perfect. Now you have to stay forever.”

Nico leaned against the doorway, watching me with a small, knowing smile. “She won’t let you go even if you try.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, Daniella curling into my side.