Fiammetta Rossi walked into the Padua courthouse clutching white lilies, her smile trembling like a moth against glass. Beside her stood Arturo Lombardi, seventy years woven into silver hair, his navy suit shimmering like sunlit ocean waves. Whispers coiled around their ankles, hungry serpents in marble halls. Fiammetta gripped his arm tighter, wading into the murmuring tide.
To outsiders, this marriage bloomed strange. For Fiammetta, it dawned as salvation. Once a top student juggling shifts at trattorias while studying economics in Bologna, Fiammetta saw her world crumbling. Her parents—beloved but broken—struggled beneath crushing debts. Padre Marco lost his factory
Emilia chiuse gli occhi sorridendo mentre una brillante farfalla di luce, nata dal sussurro delle foglie, volò verso il cielo terso portando con sé tutte le promesse mantenute.
