The days that followed felt like stolen time.
Ethan and Sofia drifted into a fragile rhythm — fragile because both knew something was coming, like a quiet storm on the horizon they couldn't outrun. They spent afternoons walking through the vineyards or sitting by the riverside where the water reflected the soft blue of the Italian sky. Sometimes they talked about their dreams. Other times they simply sat together, letting silence stitch them into a gentle closeness neither had expected to find.
But with each hour that passed, with each new moment of intimacy, Sofia's secret grew heavier on her tongue.
She hadn't told him the date of her departure.
Because she feared that once she said the words aloud, something between them would shatter.
---
One evening, just after sunset, Ethan knocked on Sofia's door with a small bag of pastries from her favorite bakery. Her father was away meeting vineyard suppliers, and her grandmother was visiting relatives, leaving the house unusually still.
Sofia opened the door softly, as if expecting something different — or maybe dreading it.
The glow of the hallway lights framed her like a painting, her hair tied loosely, her eyes tired yet warm.
Ethan held up the pastries. "Brought reinforcements."
A faint smile curved her lips. "You always know when I need them."
She let him in.
They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, sharing little bites of pastries, laughing about nothing in particular, but both feeling the weight of every unspoken thing between them.
Ethan noticed she was quieter than usual. She often drifted into long pauses, her gaze distant, her fingers restless.
"You okay?" he finally asked.
Sofia hesitated, her eyes dropping to the crumbs on the table. "I… there's something I need to tell you."
His stomach tightened, but he nodded gently. "I'm listening."
She inhaled — a shaky, uneven breath.
"My scholarship… I accepted it."
She paused. "I leave in three days."
The words hit him like a blow he didn't see coming.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His mind was a rush of tangled thoughts — shock, disappointment, an ache so deep he felt it in his bones.
"Three days?" he whispered. "Sofia… why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Her voice broke. "Because I didn't want it to change everything between us."
"It already changes everything," he said, not in anger but in heartbreak.
She closed her eyes as if the emotion was too heavy to bear. "I know. I know, Ethan. But I didn't want our time together to be overshadowed by a countdown. I wanted to enjoy you… without fear."
His chest tightened at the vulnerability in her voice.
"I understand why you're going," he said quietly. "I do. And I would never ask you to stay for me."
Tears welled in her eyes. "That's exactly why it hurts. Because you're the first person I've ever… ever cared about like this."
Ethan reached for her hand instinctively, but she pulled her fingers away, trembling.
"I don't want to be selfish," she whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not hurting me by following your dream," he said, though his throat felt tight.
She finally met his gaze — raw, tearful, lost.
"I'm hurting you by leaving," she whispered. "And we both know it."
---
Later that night, unable to sleep, Ethan walked alone through the quiet streets of Monteluce.
The air smelled of jasmine and warm earth. Lanterns flickered softly above doorways. Somewhere in the distance, a late-night musician played a slow violin melody that made the town feel like a dream slipping away.
He thought of Sofia — her laugh, her fear, her gentleness, her courage. He thought of the kiss they shared in the vineyard clearing. He thought of how she fit into him like a missing part he hadn't known he needed.
Three days.
Three days until she disappeared from his world.
A ache filled his chest — a familiar ache, like every loss he had tried to run from.
He found himself at the edge of the vineyard without realizing how he got there. Under the silver moonlight, the vines looked ghostly, whispering with every brush of wind.
He walked between the rows, tracing the same path they had shared, his hands brushing the leaves where hers had once lingered.
"Why can't I ever hold on to something good?" he whispered to no one.
The moon didn't respond.
---
The next day, Sofia found him sitting by the riverbank, skipping stones across the water.
He didn't hear her approach until she sat down beside him.
"I thought you didn't want to see me," she said quietly.
Ethan exhaled. "I wanted to give you space."
She shook her head. "I don't want space from you."
They sat in silence, the water rippling calmly in front of them.
After a while, Ethan spoke. "I'm proud of you, you know."
Sofia blinked at him. "Proud?"
"Yeah," he continued softly. "You fought for this. You earned it. You're brave enough to take the next step. That's not something everyone can do."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "I wish I wasn't hurting you in the process."
He turned toward her, wiping her tears gently with his thumb. "Some people are worth hurting for."
She let out a broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
"Ethan," she whispered, "I don't want this to be goodbye."
He shook his head slowly. "It doesn't have to be forever. But right now… we can't pretend things will stay the same."
Sofia's voice trembled. "I don't want to lose what we have."
"You won't," he promised. "Because what we have isn't just a moment. It's real. And real things don't vanish."
She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, holding her like he was memorizing the shape of her in his arms.
The river flowed steadily beside them — silent, constant, unstoppable.
Just like time.
---
On the day of her departure, Monteluce held its breath.
Sofia stood at the edge of the town square with her suitcase beside her, her hair pulled back, her face pale with emotion. Her father hugged her tightly, whispering pride and blessings. Her grandmother cried softly.
And then Ethan stepped forward.
Their eyes met — full of everything and nothing, hope and heartbreak, longing and fear.
Sofia whispered his name, barely audible. "Ethan…"
He took her hands in his — warm, calloused, trembling.
"I want you to go," he said gently.
Her breath hitched. "Why?"
"Because this world has something big waiting for you. And I won't be the one who holds you back."
Tears ran down her cheeks.
"But listen to me," he continued, brushing her cheek with a tenderness that broke her heart. "I'm not disappearing. And I'm not letting go of what we have."
She swallowed hard. "I don't want to leave you."
"I know," he whispered. "But go. Become who you're meant to be. And maybe… when the time is right… we'll find each other again."
Sofia pressed her forehead to his, both of them shaking.
"I'll write to you," she promised.
Ethan's voice cracked. "I'll be waiting."
She kissed him — a soft, desperate kiss filled with every goodbye she couldn't speak. He held her tightly, breathing her in as if it were the last time.
And then…
She stepped back.
She picked up her suitcase.
She turned.
She walked away.
Ethan stood frozen as she disappeared down the road, her silhouette growing smaller and smaller until it was swallowed by the golden light of the afternoon sun.
Only then did he whisper the words he couldn't say aloud:
"I love you."
The town remained quiet.
The wind carried her absence through the air.
And Ethan, heart heavy and aching, knew nothing would ever be the same again.