Morning dawned over the cliffs of Ravello in brilliant hues of pearl and rose. Chiara woke to the warmth of Salvatore's arm draped possessively over her waist, his face relaxed in peaceful slumber against her shoulder. For the first time in years, the crushing weight of anxiety that had defined her daily existence was gone, replaced by a radiant, serene warmth that pulsed in her veins. She raised her hand,…
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