The sun dipped low over Palermo, casting its warm golden light on the grand courtyard of Palazzo Florio. Musicians, dressed in fine but simple garb, tuned their instruments as the lively notes of a tarantella filled the air, mingling with the scent of orange blossoms and roasted almonds from the banquet tables.

Ignazio stood tall at the center of the gathering, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of pride and reservation. He was resplendent in a finely tailored suit of deep navy, his vest embroidered with golden threads that caught the evening light. At his side there was you, his new bride. Your gown, a masterpiece of ivory silk and delicate lace, shimmered as you moved.

The crowd was a tapestry of Palermo’s finest. Merchants, aristocrats, and family friends mingled, their conversations a blend of Sicilian, Italian, and French, a testament to the cultural crossroads that Sicily had become. The Florio name carried weight, and this union, strategically arranged, was the talk of the town. The alliance was not only a marriage but a declaration of the Florio family’s ascension into the upper echelons of society.

Long banquet tables groaned under the weight of the feast. Platters of arancini, stuffed melanzane, and pesce spada alla griglia were passed around, while servants poured Marsala wine, a point of pride for Ignazio and a symbol of the family’s success. A towering wedding cake—an innovation in Sicily at the time—stood as the centerpiece, adorned with candied fruits and almonds.

As the first dance began, Ignazio led you to the center of the courtyard. The musicians struck up a delicate waltz, a nod to the European influence sweeping through Sicily’s elite. His movements were precise, steps practiced, yet there was a tenderness in the way Ignazio guided you, a hint of his inner resolve to honor this union beyond obligation.