Chapter 1

Sarah wiped her hands on her apron, the scent of lemon polish faint in the air.

Thirty years.

Thirty years she'd kept this house, her parents' legacy, a place for her family.

Now, in her late fifties, with her son Mike grown and her grandson Leo needing less of her constant care, a promise echoed.

A promise made three decades ago, under a sky full of wedding fireworks.

Italy.

She found David in his usual spot, hunched over his guitar, the television murmuring a baseball game he wasn't watching.

He was a part-time community college music instructor, his classic rock cover band still struggling after all these years.

"David," she began, her voice softer than she intended.

He didn't look up, just strummed a discordant chord.

"Remember Italy? The trip you promised when we got married?"

He finally glanced at her, a brief, dismissive flick of his eyes.

"Italy? Sarah, be serious."

His tone was flat, like she'd asked for the moon.

"We're too old for that kind of thing now, Sarah."

"Mike's got a mortgage, you know, and Leo's school fees aren't cheap."

He gestured vaguely around the room. "Besides, the house needs you. Who'd look after things?"

The excuses piled up, familiar and worn.

Her sister, Emily, the vibrant travel blogger, she could jet off to Bali or Barcelona at a moment's notice.

David always said, "Emily has to travel for her brand, Sarah, she's building a creative career. You have a comfortable life here, it's different."

Comfortable, yes. Like a well-worn armchair nobody notices anymore.

Mike, their son, would echo his father if asked.

"Mom, you should be happy enjoying your retirement and grandkids. Why would you want to deal with the hassle of international travel?"

He'd say it with that casual air of his, the one that suggested her desires were trivial, almost an inconvenience. He worked a demanding office job, felt entitled to her endless support, and always sided with his father and aunt.

Even Leo, young Leo, Mike and Jessica's son, had absorbed the family's views.

He was spoiled, easily swayed by shiny things and the glamour Emily projected.

Just last week, Sarah had offered to take him to the park.

Leo had wrinkled his nose. "I don't want Grandma to come on vacation if we ever go. She's boring and her clothes are old."

He'd paused, then added with childish cruelty, "Aunt Emily is fun and buys me cool stuff!"

Sarah had felt a sting, a tightening in her chest.

David, overhearing, had just mumbled, "He's just a kid, Sarah."

But Leo, emboldened, piped up, "Grandpa says Aunt Emily is an inspiration and Grandma just... cooks and cleans."

David hadn't corrected him, just turned up the volume on the TV.

An inspiration. And she just cooked and cleaned.

The words settled in the quiet room, heavy and cold.

Sarah looked at David's back, the slight slump of his shoulders.

Thirty years.

And this was her reward.