The first fkes of winter snow dusted the hills of northern Italy as Ezra and Julie stepped off the train, the crisp air carrying the scent of pine and old stone warmed by the faintest touch of midday sun. The familiar countryside stretched before them, the rolling hills and winding roads leading toward the vil where Nonna Francesca waited, where their Quarantinemas traditions would begin again.

  Ezra had always looked forward to this time of year. The world seemed to slow down, wrapped in the hush of snow-covered fields, the nights filled with candlelight and the gentle crackle of a firepce that had burned for generations.

  But this year, something felt different.

  There was a tension in the air—not bad, necessarily, but something unspoken, something waiting just beneath the surface. Julie noticed it too, the way Seth was grinning like a man who had a secret too big to contain as he met them outside the vil.

  "Welcome home, kid," Seth said, cpping Ezra on the back.

  Ezra smirked, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Alright, spill it. What’s with the look?"

  Seth chuckled. "Got a surprise for you inside."

  Ezra exchanged a gnce with Julie, who merely shrugged, then followed his father inside, bracing himself for whatever was waiting beyond the front door.

  He had not, in any scenario, expected this.

  Seated at the head of the dining table, where Nonna Francesca usually sat, was a woman Ezra had never seen before.

  She had snow-white hair, long and neatly tied back, framing a face that was strangely familiar in ways Ezra couldn’t quite pce. Her eyes—his eyes—were the same rich amber that reflected in the mirror whenever he looked at himself, though hers carried an unmistakable wisdom, an age that wasn’t measured in years alone.

  And then there was her smile.

  Warm. Inviting. The kind of smile that made the room feel smaller, cozier, as if she had been part of this family for years, even though Ezra was certain he had never seen her before.

  Seth walked past them, pcing a hand on her shoulder with an ease that made Ezra’s stomach flip in confusion.

  "Ezra, Julie," Seth said, grinning ear to ear. "I’d like you to meet Ciarra."

  Ciarra stood, graceful despite the years that lined her face, and extended a hand toward Ezra. "So this is the famous son I've been hearing about," she said, voice smooth like winter silk.

  Ezra shook her hand on instinct, his brain still trying to piece together what was happening.

  Seth cleared his throat, looking way too pleased with himself.

  "She’s not just a guest," he said. "She’s family now."

  Ezra blinked. "What?"

  Julie, who had been quietly observing, suddenly perked up. "Wait—"

  Seth beamed, wrapping an arm around Ciarra’s waist with the kind of affection Ezra had never seen in him before.

  "Ciarra’s my fiancée," he announced. "And we’re getting married."

  For a solid five seconds, the room held its breath.

  Nonna Francesca, seated near the hearth with a cup of steaming coffee, let out a ugh, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

  Julie, wide-eyed, grabbed Ezra’s sleeve, whispering, "Did you know about this?"

  Ezra didn’t respond.

  Because he was still trying to process the fact that his father, Seth—who had spent years refusing to date, who had carried the weight of loss like an old companion—was suddenly engaged.

  To a woman Ezra had never met before. And she wasn’t just anyone. She looked like him. Too much like him. Seth, oblivious to the shock freezing Ezra in pce, nudged Ciarra pyfully. "Told you he’d need a minute to catch up."

  Ciarra gave a light, knowing ugh, stepping closer.

  "Ezra, I know this must be a lot," she said, and her voice held a patience that soothed something Ezra hadn’t even realized was unsettled.

  Still, he struggled to form words. "I—uh. Yeah. A lot’s an understatement."

  He gnced at Julie, who was now sipping a cup of coffee and watching with open amusement, clearly enjoying seeing him at a loss for words.

  Ciarra tilted her head slightly, examining him, and then, as if reading his thoughts, she smirked.

  "You’re wondering how old I am, aren’t you?"

  Ezra choked. "What—no—I mean—"

  She ughed, and it was genuine, the kind that carried years of ughter before it.

  "It’s alright," she said, eyes twinkling. "I get it. I look like I could be your grandmother instead of your father’s fiancée."

  Ezra exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—uh—look, I didn’t mean it like that."

  Seth grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "I told her you’d be skeptical."

  Ciarra waved him off. "Let him process, Seth." She turned back to Ezra. "I won’t push you to accept this overnight. But I hope, in time, you’ll come to see me as family. I’d like that." Something about the way she said it made the tension in Ezra’s chest loosen just a little.

  Later that night, when the vil had quieted down and most of the guests had retreated to their rooms, Ezra found himself sitting outside on the terrace, the cold air helping clear his head.

  Julie stepped out a few moments ter, wrapping her coat tighter around herself as she took a seat beside him.

  "So," she mused, "do you like her?"

  Ezra let out a breath, watching it cloud in the cold. "I… don’t know."

  Julie smirked. "Oh, you like her."

  Ezra shot her a look. "How can you tell?"

  "Because I like her," Julie said simply. "And you and I have surprisingly simir tastes in people."

  Ezra huffed a ugh, shaking his head.

  Julie nudged him lightly. "She’s different, Ezra. I get why you’re hesitant. But I also see the way your dad looks at her."

  Ezra’s smirk faded slightly. Because she was right. He had never seen Seth this happy before. There was a lightness to him now, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there for years. And that? That was hard to argue with.

  Julie leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. "You don’t have to figure it all out tonight," she murmured. "Just… give it time."

  Ezra nodded, still staring out at the snow-dusted hills. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I think I will."

  The vil was quieter now, the te-night hush settling over the household like a comforting weight. The warmth of the firepce still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon and wood smoke. Most of the family had retired for the night, but Ezra remained awake, standing by the window of the sitting room, staring out into the snow-covered countryside.

  His mind was restless. Ciarra had been too familiar.

  Not just in the way she spoke, or the way she carried herself with an effortless kind of wisdom, but in something deeper, something that gnawed at the back of his thoughts like a half-forgotten dream.

  Her presence didn’t feel foreign, and that was what unsettled him. Because it should have.

  The door creaked open behind him. Ezra didn’t turn at first, only gncing up at the reflection in the window as Ciarra stepped into the room, a thick wool shawl draped over her shoulders.

  She was quiet for a moment, then:

  “You’re troubled.”

  Ezra huffed, crossing his arms. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting all of… this.”

  She stepped forward, settling into the chair across from him, her gaze calm but observant. “Change is hard.”

  He finally looked at her, searching her expression. The firelight softened her features, making her seem less like a stranger and more like someone who had always belonged here.That thought unnerved him more than he cared to admit. After a long pause, he sat down, fingers cing together as he leaned forward slightly. “Why my dad?” he asked.

  Ciarra’s amber eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them before she smiled—a slow, knowing kind of smile, like she had been waiting for him to ask.

  "Because," she said simply, "I wanted a second chance."

  Ezra frowned, the honesty in her voice unexpectedly disarming. "A second chance at what?"

  Ciarra exhaled slowly, as if she had been holding something inside for a long time. "At family," she murmured. "At belonging somewhere. At not spending my life looking in from the outside."

  The words hit Ezra harder than he anticipated.

  For a moment, he saw something else in her—not just a woman who had found love again te in life, but someone who had once been lost, who had carried burdens she never spoke about, who had known what it meant to be alone for too long.

  And yet… Something still didn’t sit right.

  Ezra’s gaze drifted to the way she held her hands together—a precise gesture, familiar in a way that made his skin prickle. "Why do I feel like I know you?" he asked, voice quieter now.

  Ciarra’s expression didn’t change. But something in her body nguage shifted, ever so slightly. She let out a soft chuckle, but there was something gentle and knowing in it. "You remind me of someone I once knew."

  Ezra studied her more closely now. "You and I have the same eyes," he murmured. "And Dad joked that we look like we could be reted."

  Ciarra’s smile was warm, but her silence was telling.

  Ezra leaned back, crossing his arms.

  "Where are you from?" he asked.

  Ciarra tilted her head, watching him for a long moment before answering. "Nowhere, really," she said carefully. "I’ve moved around a lot. Never had a pce that felt like home."

  Ezra’s gut twisted. There was truth in her words, but not the whole truth.

  And the way she watched him—like she was waiting for him to figure something out on his own—only made that feeling stronger.

  The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.

  Ezra sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You want to be part of this family," he said finally.

  Ciarra nodded. "Yes."

  "And you wanted my approval."

  Another nod.

  Ezra let out a breath, gncing toward the firepce, watching the fmes dance along the logs. "I think I was trying to be skeptical at first. But… I don’t know. There’s something about you." He looked back at her. "You feel… familiar."

  Ciarra’s lips parted slightly, and for a brief second, Ezra swore he saw something in her expression—a fsh of emotion, something like relief and heartache all at once. Then she smiled again, softer this time. "Maybe we were always meant to be family," she said simply.

  Ezra didn’t have a response for that.

  He just stared at her, feeling a warmth settle in his chest, something that had nothing to do with the fire burning beside them. Maybe he didn’t need all the answers right now. Maybe some things didn’t need to be expined. After a moment, he reached out and pced his hand over hers.

  "Welcome to the family, Ciarra."

  Ciarra’s breath hitched, just barely, before she squeezed his hand in return.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  And for the first time since meeting her, Ezra felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

  Ezra caught Ciarra in the kitchen one morning before his trip to the university. She was on her phone. Smart phones weren’t anything new, but hers was stylish! Ezra came up to her. “That’s a fancy model, where’d you get that?” He asked while rummaging the fridge.“Oh, this old thing? It was a gift.” She calmly remarked while scrolling through the morning news.Ezra sat at the table, food in hand. “A gift?” He asked while making himself a sandwich and some small talk. Ezra eyed the phone. “Must’ve been from someone important, I’ve only ever seen politicians with that kind of brand.”

  The screen had scratches and years worth of wear and tear signs. “Close, but dad wasn’t a politician. He was..” Ciarra’s tone shifted, and her gaze lingered on the phone nostalgically. “A great man. I never got to truly meet him, but his memories live on.” Ezra asked if he could take a look at it, and Ciarra handed the little device over to him after unlocking it. Ezra scrolled through the settings. 50 Petabytes of memory, a built in AI assistant, and Ciarra had only used up half of its memory! “Impressive.” He remarks while sliding it back across the table.

  He pulled out his phone, the one Seth gave to him. It was bigger than Ciarra’s, older, fewer features and memory. “Take good care of it. Memories are worth more than the phone.” He leaves her with a smile, finishes his sandwich, and before long he’s on his way to the European White Coat University.