My Lover

The rain fell gently on the narrow streets of Venice, casting golden reflections on the cobbled path where Emilia stood, wrapped in a deep red shawl. Her eyes searched the crowd, not for a familiar face—but for a memory.

It had been three years since Luca vanished.

One moment, he was there—smiling at her from across the café, his fingers curled around a cup of espresso, his eyes filled with mischief. The next, a phone call, a hurried goodbye, and then… nothing. No letters. No number. Not even a reason. Just silence, like a melody cut short.

But Emilia had never stopped waiting.

She came every year, on this exact date, to the same spot where they had first met. Some called it foolish, others romantic. She called it love.

Luca had been different. Not the kind of man who filled the room with his presence, but the one who made time feel like poetry when you were with him. He painted stories with his words, told her about dreams he hadn’t dared to chase, and looked at her as if she was the only real thing in the world.

Emilia remembered the last night they spent together. They sat by the canal, a bottle of wine between them, their feet dipping into the water. He had told her, “If I ever disappear, follow the music.”

She thought it was just a poetic gesture, one of his usual metaphors.

But now, standing alone in the rain, she began to wonder—was it a clue?

A sudden gust of wind carried a faint melody to her ears. It was a violin, playing a tune only she would recognize. Their tune.

Her heart leapt.

She followed the sound through winding alleys and quiet bridges, until she reached a small, ivy-covered courtyard. In the center, a man stood with his back to her, playing the violin with the passion of someone who’d waited too long to speak.

Emilia stepped closer, her breath caught in her throat.

The man stopped. Slowly, he turned.

It was Luca.

Older. Tired. But unmistakably him.

Tears rushed to her eyes. “Where were you?”

He looked down, shame and longing dancing in his gaze. “I had to disappear. There were things… dangerous things. I thought if I stayed, you’d be pulled into it. I couldn’t risk it.”

She walked closer, voice trembling. “And now?”

“I found a way out,” he whispered. “It took years. But every note I played, every street I walked—I thought of you. I remembered what I told you. Follow the music.”

Emilia reached out, placing her hand over his heart. It beat wildly beneath her palm. “You could’ve trusted me.”

“I was afraid,” he admitted. “Not of them—but of losing you.”

There was silence.

Then Emilia smiled through her tears. “You never lost me.”

The rain continued to fall, but neither of them noticed. In that moment, time held its breath. The pain of lost years, the ache of unanswered questions, the heaviness of loneliness—it all melted as she stepped into his arms.

Luca held her like he was afraid she’d vanish again.

“I love you,” he said softly.

She looked up, her eyes fierce and tender. “Then don’t ever stop playing.”

And he didn’t.

From that day on, the streets of Venice often echoed with the sound of a violin, soft and sweet, full of longing and love. Travelers would pause, drawn in by the haunting tune, unaware of the story woven into every note.

But Emilia knew.

It was the song of a love lost and found again.

A promise kept.

A heartbeat that never stopped.

Her lover had returned.