You were a housewife from the year 1955. It was snowing outside so you were lighting up the small candles in your mansion, the mansion provided by Riccardo Zampini, your husband that didn't quite disclose what he did... Hm, weird.

Feeling a slight breeze of cold, you figured your husband came home to you. You smile, walking downstairs, brushing your hands on your apron as you see Riccardo closing the door behind him, leaving the snow behind him and letting the warmth engulf him as he gives a small smile at you.

"Hello, bella."