ALL IS NOT LOST by Nora Bloom

Author:Nora Bloom [Bloom, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BUOY MEDIA LLC
Published: 2024-07-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Nine

The soft glow of dawn filters through the sheer curtains, casting a golden hue over everything it touches, including me. I'm sitting at the edge of my bed, ankles crossed, hands clasped together in my lap—a posture of reflection that's become familiar lately. My heart is full, almost uncomfortably so, as if it's trying to expand beyond the confines of my chest.

I came to Italy with a heavy soul and a suitcase weighed down by bottles of sorrow. Now, the bottles gather dust, and the sorrow… well, it seems to have taken flight on the wings of the swallows outside my window. It's Giovanni's doing; I'm sure of it—his smiles, his laughter, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he looks at me. He's kindness personified, and somehow, against the odds, he's reached into the depths of my despair and pulled me out.

And those kisses. Oh, boy.

Confusion threads through the gratitude, though. This isn't why I came here. I wasn’t supposed to let my guard down and let someone in. The plan was to fade away quietly, not to have my senses reawakened by the taste of homemade pasta or the smell of blooming jasmine. Yet, here I am, craving a glass of Chianti for its rich flavor, not its numbing effect. And all I truly want is to be in Giovanni's company, to hear his voice say my name, Sophia, like it’s a precious secret he cherishes.

How did this happen to me?

I rise from the bed and pad across the tiles that feel cool under my bare feet. With each step, I feel more grounded, more alive. I tie an apron around my waist and begin to prepare breakfast, humming a tune I heard Giovanni whistle yesterday. I don’t cook. I have said this my entire life. But the fact is, I enjoyed cooking the night before, and I want to do more of it. The kitchen welcomes me like an old friend, its rustic charm draping me in a comforting embrace.

Cracking eggs into a bowl, I whisk them vigorously, taking pleasure in the small, everyday act. I chop sun-ripened tomatoes and tear fresh basil leaves, releasing their fragrance into the air. As the ingredients come together in the pan, the villa fills with the aroma of warmth and nourishment—a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that used to consume me.

From the open window, the gentle sounds of the countryside drift in: birdsong, the rustle of leaves, and the distant bark of a dog. It's peaceful here, so far removed from the cacophony of New York that once amplified my loneliness.

I didn’t even know life could be like this. So light. So easy.

Finishing with breakfast, I set the table for one, placing it near the window with a view of the mountains. The chair across from mine remains empty, but in my mind's eye, I can see Giovanni there, his eyes alight with mirth, sharing this simple moment with me.

As I take the first bite, the flavors burst on my tongue—vivid and alive.

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