The air in Florence was different now—lighter, warmer, filled with new hope. After the appointment, Santiago drove his family through the winding streets of their new neighborhood. Italy was still unfamiliar in many ways, but slowly, it was beginning to feel like home.
They arrived at a modest, sunlit villa tucked between olive trees and stone paths. It wasn't grand, but it was theirs.
"Benvenuti a casa," Santiago said with a smile, unlocking the door.
Israel ran inside first, her laughter echoing through the house. Amara followed slowly, hand resting on her belly, breathing in the peaceful silence.
Later that evening, they gathered in the kitchen. Amara prepared a small dinner—homemade pasta, just like the neighbors had taught her. Santiago opened a bottle of grape juice to celebrate.
"To the baby," he said, raising his glass. "To peace. To us."
Israel clinked her cup against theirs. "E alla famiglia!"
After dinner, Santiago tucked Israel into bed. She clung to her favorite teddy bear and whispered, "Will the baby sleep in my room?"
He chuckled softly. "No, piccola. But you'll help us take care of them, right?"
She nodded sleepily. "I'll be the best sister."
Santiago kissed her forehead. "I know you will."
Back in the living room, Amara sat curled on the couch. Santiago joined her, placing his hand gently on her growing belly. For the first time in a long time, there was no fear—only the gentle rhythm of a new chapter beginning.
"We're going to be okay," he said.
Amara smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. "We already are."