(Isabella’s POV)
An hour felt like both an eternity and a single, frantic heartbeat as I prepared for our date. The simple, normal act of choosing a dress felt like a revolutionary act of hope. I settled on an elegant navy-blue dress, and when I met Alessandro in the living room, my breath caught. He had shed his usual suit for tailored black trousers and a soft, charcoal-grey cashmere sweater that made him look impossibly handsome.
The restaurant, “Il Santuario,” was a discreet, ivy-covered brownstone, and the moment we stepped inside, I understood its name. It was a haven of warmth and intimacy. We were led to the best table in the house, a secluded booth in a private alcove.
“Good evening, Signorina Rossi,” a warm, friendly waitress greeted me. “May I bring you a glass of the Barolo
