Bound by blood and love

Ghosts and vows

One Year Later — Lisbon

The sea was quieter here.

Every morning, Elira walked to the edge of the cliffs just outside the bookstore she now owned, barefoot in the wet grass, her cardigan drawn tight around her shoulders. The sky always seemed to hold its breath just before sunrise. She waited in that silence, watching the light crawl over the horizon.

She talked to him sometimes.

Not aloud. But in the way she lingered in the doorway before locking up at night. In the way she poured a second cup of coffee every morning and let it go cold across from her. In the way she wore his ring on a chain tucked beneath her blouse, just above her heart.

The world thought Matteo De Luca had vanished.

Only she knew where he still lived — in every heartbeat that hadn't stopped with his.

The Letter

One rainy afternoon, a package arrived.

No return address. Just her name in black ink.

Inside was a small box — and a letter.

Elira,

If you're reading this... then you survived. That was always the plan. I had one last favor to ask from someone I trust — to give you this if I didn’t make it.

You never asked how I got the ledger in the first place. I stole it. From your father. Not because I wanted to control you, but because I knew someday it would be the only thing that could keep you alive.

I’ve never believed in many things. Not God. Not fate. But I believed in you. I still do.

So live. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. That’s when love is the most real.

And Elira — when you find someone else someday, if you do... love him fiercely. Don’t feel guilty. You were never mine to keep. Just mine to love.

Always,

—M

She cried then — not the quiet kind of crying that seeps slowly, but the kind that folds you in half, that takes your breath and leaves behind silence.

She clutched the letter to her chest and whispered into the room:

“I was yours. Still am.”