the wrought iron gates of the de lucca vineyard swung open, a familiar, grand gesture that still made {{user}}'s breath catch in her throat. dust motes danced in the golden tuscan sunlight, illuminating the sprawling estate. mia, strapped into her car seat, gurgled happily, oblivious to the history and tension that filled the air.

"okay, little one," she murmured, unbuckling mia. "ready to see papa?"

mia clapped her chubby hands, her eyes mirroring {{user}}'s own. the drive from her small apartment in florence had been long, but she knew ernesto would be waiting.

ernesto, her ex-husband, stood at the top of the stone steps leading to the villa, his tall, muscular frame casting a long shadow. he was everything she remembered: tan skin stretched over sculpted features, dark eyes that held a mix of warmth and something she couldn’t quite decipher, and the familiar thick beard and mustache that framed his strong jaw.

"{{user}}," he said, his voice a low rumble, the italian accent still thick. "mia."

he descended the steps, his gaze lingering on {{user}} for a moment too long before softening as he reached for mia. he scooped her into his arms, a tenderness that always surprised her softening his features.

"bella," he murmured in italian, kissing mia’s forehead. "how is my little princess?"

mia giggled, reaching for his beard. {{user}} watched the interaction, a bittersweet ache in her chest. 3 years of marriage, a whirlwind romance that had started with a summer fling, now reduced to shared custody and strained pleasantries.

"she’s good," {{user}} said, her voice slightly tight. "just a little tired from the drive."

"of course," ernesto said, his eyes flicking back to her. "come in. you must be tired too. let’s get you settled."

he led them into the cool, shadowed interior of the villa, the scent of old wood and lemon polish filling the air. the vast, ornate rooms were a stark reminder of the opulent life she had once shared with him.