The sisters were packing up the remaining tomatoes when they saw their parents approaching.
Luggage.
Too much of it.
Isabella dropped the crate in her hands. "Papa…?"
Their mother's eyes were red. Their father didn't meet their gaze.
"The landlord," he said quietly. "He ended the lease."
Lucia froze. "They're supposed to give six months' notice."
Her father nodded once. "They did. It expired last week."
Sofia's voice cracked. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"You did tell us," she went on, anger rising. "We could have done something."
He tried to calm her, but Sofia had already turned away.
She ran.
Lucia followed — then stopped. She knew better than to chase her sister when Sofia was angry.
That night, Sofia slept against a fence.
Lucia didn't sleep at all.
Lorenzo found her just outside his house.
Sofia was seated on the ground, her back against the low wall, knees drawn close to her chest. She looked small there — nothing like the sharp-tongued girl who argued with customers at the tomato stand. For a moment, he thought she was unconscious.
"Sofia?" he said, stepping closer.
She stirred, eyes snapping open in panic. She scrambled to her knees, breath uneven, as if the night had never really released her.
"Hey—hey," Lorenzo said quickly, lowering himself to her level. "It's me. You're safe."
She stared at him, fear flickering across her face before recognition settled in. Her shoulders collapsed.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
For a second, she said nothing. Then the words spilled out — broken, rushed, tangled with anger and exhaustion. She told him about the landlord. The notice. The luggage. Her father's silence. How no one had anywhere to go.
As she spoke, her hands trembled.
Lorenzo listened without interrupting. He knew Sofia and her sisters — everyone in the neighborhood did — but he had never met their parents, never asked where they came from or how close they were to losing everything.
When she finished, silence stretched between them.
"Where's Lucia?" he asked quietly.
Sofia hesitated. "I ran. She followed… then stopped."
That was all he needed to hear.
Lorenzo stood up immediately. "Come inside," he said, already reaching for his keys. "We'll figure this out. But first — I need to find your sister."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and hurried down the street, worry tightening in his chest — not just for the family, but for Lucia.
Lorenzo found the family gathered just a few streets away.
The mother was seated on one of the suitcases, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The father stood beside her, rigid and silent, while Isabella paced back and forth, her worry written openly on her face.
"Where's Lucia?" Lorenzo asked the moment he reached them.
The father looked up. "She went after Sofia," he said. "She hasn't come back."
Lorenzo exhaled sharply. "Sofia is safe. She's at my house."
All three of them looked at him at once.
"Go straight," he continued quickly, pointing. "Then turn left. You'll see a black gate — that's my place."
The mother didn't wait for more instructions. She stood, grabbing her bag. Isabella followed, calling her father as they hurried off toward the house.
Lorenzo turned the opposite way.
He ran.
By the time dawn broke, Tal was already awake.
It was just past seven when he sat up in the guest house, the quiet of the morning settling over him. He showered, dressed slowly, deliberately, as if time had no authority over him anymore. When he stepped outside, the air was cool, untouched — the kind of calm that only exists before a day decides what it will become.
That was when he saw her
Lucia was seated on a bench near the edge of the street when he approached her.
Tal slowed his steps, surprised. He was certain now.
"Lucia?" he said carefully.
She looked up, startled — then recognition crossed her face. "Oh… hey," she said softly. "We met the other day, didn't we?"
"Yes," Tal replied. "At the shop. You're Isabella's sister."
She nodded. "Her elder sister."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The morning was quiet, but Lucia wasn't. There was something in her posture — the way her hands clenched in her lap, the way her eyes avoided his — that didn't match the calm around them.
Tal studied her, unconsciously.
"Something's wrong," he said.
Lucia hesitated. "It's nothing."
Tal didn't press immediately. He simply sat beside her, leaving enough space not to feel intrusive.
"From my observation," he said after a moment, "you look like someone carrying a weight that doesn't belong to today."
She let out a breath — shaky, unsteady.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't—"
"You don't have to explain," Tal replied. "But if you want to… I can listen."
She looked at him then. Really looked. He was a stranger — and that somehow made it easier.
Lucia's voice broke as she spoke.
She told him everything — the landlord, the notice, the luggage, her parents' silence, Sofia running away. Tears streamed freely now, embarrassment mixing with exhaustion.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this," she whispered. "I don't know you."
Tal said nothing. He only listened.
When her voice finally faded, her shoulders shook. Without thinking, she leaned forward — and Tal rose instinctively, steadying her as she rested her head against his chest.
At that exact moment, footsteps approached.
Lorenzo stopped short.
He stood there, breathless from running, eyes fixed on the sight in front of him — Lucia, fragile and broken, leaning into a man he didn't know.
For a second, the world held its breath.
Lorenzo rushed forward and pulled Lucia away from Tal in a single sharp motion, placing himself between them.
Tal didn't resist.
He straightened slowly, his expression calm — not defensive, not angry — only surprised, as if he had just stepped into a story already unfolding. There was a quiet amazement in his eyes as he took in the scene: Lorenzo's tense posture, Lucia's shaken stance, the way her hands trembled as she pulled them back to herself.
Tal glanced at Lucia once more.
It wasn't intrusive. It wasn't accusatory. It was the look of someone who understood without needing further explanation.
Lucia couldn't meet his eyes.
Lorenzo's breathing was heavy, protective instinct burning hot beneath his skin, but Tal remained still, composed — an observer rather than a rival. The morning air hung thick with unspoken truths, and for a brief moment, all three of them stood suspended in silence, each aware that something irreversible had just begun.
Lorenzo glanced around the room before his eyes settled on Lucia.
"Do you know him?" he asked calmly.
Before she could answer, Tal spoke.
"Do you know Lucia?" he asked, turning to Lorenzo.
The question landed harder than expected.
Lorenzo stiffened. "Who are you to her?" he shot back. "And how do you even know her?" Tal didn't answer immediately. He looked at Lucia instead — not expectant. Just waiting.Lucia swallowed. "I don't know him," she said quietly. "We're strangers. We just met."Lorenzo frowned slightly. "Then why are we having this conversation in front of him?
Lucia hesitated — then lifted her head.
The room fell silent.
Tal said nothing.
But Lorenzo noticed it — the way Tal didn't defend himself, didn't insert his version of events. He simply let the truth sit where it belonged.
Lucia finally spoke.
"Lorenzo… why are you here?"
Lorenzo didn't answer immediately. He looked at her carefully, then said,
"Sophia was found in front of my house."
Lucia blinked. "What?"
The words hit her all at once. Lucia froze—then shook her head, trying to understand.
"What did you say?"
Lorenzo lifted a hand. "It's fine. She's in my house now. With family."
Relief washed over Lucia so suddenly she had to steady herself.
Lucia watched Tal walk away, if only for a brief moment.
She didn't know why she stayed still — why her eyes followed him longer than necessary. Thoughts stirred in her mind, unfamiliar and unsettled, refusing to take shape. By the time she looked away, she already felt foolish for lingering on a stranger.
Lorenzo touched her arm gently.
"Come. They're waiting."
They found the family gathered together — Lucia's parents, Sophia, Isabella — all talking at once, voices tight with exhaustion and relief. When Lucia appeared, they fell quiet.
The discussion turned quickly to where they would stay, where they could rest. Suggestions overlapped, none certain, none satisfying.
"We can ask around town," Lucia offered softly. "Someone might help."
Lorenzo's head snapped up.
"No," he said firmly. "We don't know him."
The room stilled.
"Like you said," Lorenzo continued, more measured now, "he's a stranger. Trust doesn't come that easily."
Lucia lowered her gaze, but said nothing.
Lorenzo softened then, his voice quieter but resolute.
"You can stay with me. You'll be safe there."
Lucia nodded, though something inside her resisted — not loudly, not enough to argue. Just enough to feel the weight of it.
Somewhere in her mind, uninvited, the image of Tal walking away returned.
And she didn't understand why.
On the outskirts of molis, Tal kept walking.
That was when he met a man named Matteo.
Matteo approached him casually. "What's your name?"
"Tal," he replied.
Matteo studied him for a moment, then said, "Would you like to help out at the farm?"
Tal considered it briefly. "Okay."
Matteo smiled, relieved. "Good. I'm the only one around today. The work is a lot."
He thanked Tal once more, and together they headed toward the fields — unaware that this small decision would quietly anchor Tal to a place he hadn't planned to stay.
They arrived at the farm just after sunrise.
Tal took it in at once — the scale of it. This wasn't a modest family plot. It was commercial. Rows of fruit trees stretched beyond the fence line, crops divided with practiced precision, and livestock everywhere: pigs grunting in their pens, cows and goats moving lazily in the distance, rams standing alert, chickens scattering underfoot.
Matteo didn't need to explain it, but he did anyway.
"My family are farmers," he said. "Commercial ones."
Tal nodded. He already knew.
So what exactly am I doing here? Tal wondered, watching a pig root noisily through the dirt.
Matteo stopped beside a concrete trough and turned to him.
"First thing," he said casually, "we wash the pigs."
Tal frowned. He lifted a finger to his ear, rubbing it slightly, just in case.
"Sorry," he said. "Did you say… wash the pigs?"
"Yes," Matteo replied. "We do."
Tal stared at the animals, then back at Matteo. "You wash pigs."
"For health purposes."
A pause.
Tal exhaled slowly. "I really don't know how to clean a pig."
Matteo decides to wash the pigs, because tal couldn't. Meanwhile tal takes care of the other animals.By the end of the day, Matteo had finished most of the work himself. Tal hadn't even noticed. He was still occupied — caring for the animals, circling the task, avoiding it without ever openly refusing.When the farm finally settled, the sky had already darkened. It was nearly seven.
"You can stay the night," Matteo said. "My family's house is here. They'll be back around nine-thirty."
Tal hesitated.
His guest house was more than two kilometers away. No car. No taxi. Walking back in the dark wasn't an option.