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**Chapter 3: The Vineyard's Secrets**
The days in San Violetta seemed to pass with a dreamlike quality, each hour cloaked in the golden haze of nostalgia yet to be made. Isabella often found herself wandering the outskirts of the town, drawn by the undulating hills that promised endless inspiration. It was during one of these wanderings that she stumbled upon the vineyard.
It wasn't marked on any map, nor did it show any signs of ownership. The rows of grapevines stretched endlessly, their leaves a vibrant green, their fruit hanging heavy in the spring warmth. Beyond the vineyard, she could see an old stone house, weathered and modest, standing as though it had grown from the earth itself. The air here was richer, carrying the tang of ripening grapes mixed with the faint aroma of wildflowers. Isabella stopped, struck by the serenity of the place.
She set down her bag and quickly began unpacking her paints. The canvas was blank, glaring almost, and she couldn't bear for the moment to slip away unrecorded. With quick, confident strokes, she captured the vibrant hues, the interplay of light and shadow, and the gentle curve of the land. She was so lost in her work that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her.
"You're trespassing."
The voice startled her, and she turned sharply, her paintbrush slipping from her fingers. Standing a few paces away was Luca, his arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes fixed on her with an expression hovering between amusement and annoyance.
"I'm…what?" Isabella stammered, glancing around. "This place isn't marked. I didn't think—wait, is this your vineyard?"
Luca stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the canvas. The irritation in his expression softened as he took in the painting—her interpretation of his retreat. "It belongs to my family," he said finally, his voice quieter. "But no one's worked it in years."
Isabella studied him, noting the way his shoulders seemed to relax as he spoke about the vineyard. "It's beautiful," she said earnestly. "I had to paint it. I can leave if you want, but…it feels like this place deserves to be remembered."
For a long moment, Luca said nothing, his gaze lingering on the painting. Finally, he sighed and gestured toward the vines. "You can stay. Just…don't disturb me."
"Deal," Isabella said, her lips curving into a smile. As Luca turned and walked toward the stone house, she watched him go, her curiosity about this enigmatic man growing. The vineyard had clearly been his sanctuary, a place of solitude—and now, she had unknowingly intruded. But perhaps, she thought, it wasn't such a bad thing.
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