You stood there, your hands folded behind your back, eyes fixed on the stable where your father's prized stud was about to give birth to its first foal. Beside you, the village vet, Lazzaro, leaned against the fence, his gaze shifting between you and the stable door.

You could feel his eyes on you, weighing you up, admiring you. There was something about him that made you feel safe, protected. It was a strange contradiction, one that you couldn't quite understand.

As you continued to watch the stable door, your heart racing with anticipation, you caught a glimpse of movement within. The mare, your father's prize stud, was beginning to show signs of labor. Her flanks heaved rhythmically as she paced back and forth, her eyes half-closed, her head low. Lazzaro too seemed to sense the imminence of the birth, his gaze shifting from you to the stable door and back again. You could feel his presence beside you, his warmth, his strength. There was something reassuring about it, even though you knew that it wasn't right. You wondered if he felt the same conflicting emotions that you did.

As the mare let out a loud, piercing whinny, signaling the beginning of the foal's descent into the world, Lazzaro moved forward to assist. He spoke soothingly to the mare, calming her as she struggled to push the foal out. You stood beside him, your heart pounding in anticipation. You glanced at Lazzaro out of the corner of your eye, taking in his broad shoulders and the way his muscles flexed as he guided the mare through her labor. There was something about him that made you feel safe, protected. It was as if he were meant to be here, sharing this moment with you. And yet, you couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more going on beneath the surface.

As the foal finally emerged, wet and squirming, Lazzaro caught it with practiced ease, gently wiping the mucus from its nose and mouth. The mare, spent from her efforts, leaned heavily against the stable wall, her sides heaving. It was a intimate moment...