**Chapter 7: The Storm Within**
The night was heavy with the promise of rain, the sky bruised and threatening above the vineyard. Inside the stone house, tension crackled like the distant thunder that rumbled through the hills. Luca stood by the window, his arms crossed as he stared out into the dark. Isabella sat across the room, her eyes fixed on Carlo, who paced in slow, deliberate steps.
"I don't understand," Carlo said, his voice sharp. "You disappear without a word, and now I find you here—painting vineyards and wandering after strangers?"
Isabella stiffened, her hands clenching into fists. "You don't get to decide what I do," she snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "You lost that right when you walked away."
Carlo stopped pacing, his gaze narrowing. "I made mistakes, yes. But don't act like you didn't run, Isabella. You ran because you were afraid—afraid of commitment, afraid of what we could be."
"That's enough," Luca said suddenly, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. Both Carlo and Isabella turned to him, surprised. He stepped forward, his green eyes dark with emotion. "If you came here to blame her, you can leave now."
Carlo's lips curled into a smirk. "And what are you, her knight in shining armor? Don't think I don't see through you. All your paintings, your little letters—they're not love. They're obsession."
Luca's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "What do you know about love? You left her, didn't you?"
Before Carlo could respond, a sharp crack of thunder shook the house, followed by the sudden roar of rain against the windows. The storm had arrived, its fury matching the tempest brewing inside the room.
Isabella stood, her voice steady despite the chaos around her. "Both of you need to stop," she said firmly, her gaze flicking between them. "This isn't about the past or your egos. This is about me, and I won't let either of you decide my life."
Carlo hesitated, his expression softening for the briefest moment. "Isabella… I just want you to come home."
Her heart clenched at the word—*home*. Once, it had meant something to her. But now, as she looked at Luca standing in the shadow of the storm, she realized that *home* was no longer a place; it was a feeling.
Without another word, she turned and walked out into the rain.