Emma Turner stepped off the bus with a suitcase in one hand and a notebook in the other. The heat hit her like an oven door opening, but she didn't mind. After the gray streets of London, the sun-soaked hills of southern Italy felt like a dream.
The village of Monteverde was quiet—cobbled streets, crumbling churches, and a harbor filled with old fishing boats. Emma had chosen it because it was remote. Peaceful. The kind of place where no one asked too many questions.
She found her rental cottage just off the main square: small, whitewashed, with ivy curling around the windows. The woman who handed her the keys, Nonna Rosa, was kind but curious.
"You're alone?" she asked in slow English.
Emma nodded. "Just me."
Nonna Rosa smiled knowingly, as if she understood something Emma didn't. "Then maybe not for long."
Emma didn't answer. She didn't come here for romance. She came to write. To forget.
The next morning, she walked down a dusty path through the olive groves, looking for inspiration. The trees stretched in neat rows, their leaves silver in the breeze. She took out her notebook and began sketching a paragraph.
"Careful," came a voice in Italian-accented English. "You'll fall in love if you stay in that spot too long."
She turned.
A man stood under the nearest olive tree, shirt damp with sweat, hands stained from harvest. He was tall, sun-browned, with dark hair pulled back and eyes the color of burnt caramel.
"Excuse me?" she said.
He smiled. "That tree. Local legend says lovers meet there."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "And who told you that?"
"My nonna. Which means it's either true or dangerously superstitious."
She smirked despite herself.
"I'm Luca," he added, offering a hand.
"Emma."
They shook. His hand was calloused and warm. Hers trembled just slightly.
They spoke for a few minutes. He told her he owned part of the grove—family land for generations. She said she was a writer. The conversation was light, easy, and unexpectedly pleasant.
As she walked back toward the cottage, Emma looked once over her shoulder.
Luca was still standing under the tree, watching her.
She wasn't sure why, but she smiled.