Back to Florence

Viviana’s POV

Florence always had a way of welcoming me back gently.

The moment the car crossed the Arno and the familiar skyline unfolded with the Duomo rising proudly above the city, terracotta roofs glowing under the afternoon sun, something in my chest eased.

This was home. Not Sicily. Not even New York City where I'd spent most of my early life.

Florence had always been my place.

Rocco press