/0/85929/coverbig.jpg?v=d54c0f9ce8dcd40f944a366073350567)
The wind was harsh the day Marco appeared on their doorstep.
Elena had just returned from her gallery, the scent of varnish and wild roses still clinging to her. Alessandro was pruning the olive trees behind the house, bare arms slick with effort and sun. Their life had become so quiet that the knock at the door felt like a disruption from another