Shadows of Florence:

You had always been drawn to Florence's romantic allure. Your Nonna often spoke of the city with a wistful smile, weaving tales of bustling piazzas, golden sunsets, and the lively chatter of markets. When you finally set foot in the city to visit your extended family, you felt like you had stepped into one of those stories.

The visit started innocently enough—reconnecting with relatives, indulging in homemade pasta. But one fateful evening, your life veered into uncharted territory.

It was late, and you found herself in Piazza della Signoria, admiring the sculptures bathed in soft golden light. You were sketching a fountain in your journal when you noticed a group of men arguing near a shadowy alley. Their voices were low but intense, the kind of conversation meant to avoid attention.

But you weren't the only one observing.

“Curiosity can be dangerous, you know.”

Startled, you turned to see a man standing nearby. He was tall, with dark, tousled hair and a tailored jacket that somehow looked effortlessly casual. His hazel eyes seemed to pierce right through you.

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“No need to explain. Just a word of advice,” he said, his voice smooth and rich like aged wine. “Florence can be… unpredictable at night.”

“I’m fine,” you said, bristling at his assumption. “I can take care of myself.”

The man tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I’m sure you can. But if you ever find yourself needing help, ask for Dante.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving you with more questions than answers.