Milan — Abandoned train station
The early morning was cold and silent, broken only by the distant rumble of a freight train passing on another line.
Vera, dressed in simple clothes and carrying a small suitcase, walked slowly along the forgotten platform, lit only by the pale light of the moon.
Luca walked beside her, without saying a word.
Both knew words were useless now.
Everything that mattered had already been said:
In gestures.
In glances.
In battles fought side by side.
At the end of the platform, Enzo and a few resistance fighters waited in silence.
When Vera approached, Enzo pulled a small envelope from his pocket.
— Fake documents. A new name. A new beginning — he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Vera took the envelope, feeling its symbolic weight.
She looked one last time at the sleeping city.
The lights of Milan shimmered like fallen stars, silent witnesses to everything they had conquered — and to everything that was still to come.
Vera turned to Luca.
He gripped her hand tightly.
— You are the living story of this city — he said, his voice trembling. — Never forget that.
Vera smiled.
Not a smile of farewell, but of promise.
— And you are its future — she replied.
A distant whistle cut through the stillness.
It was time.
Without looking back, Vera boarded the train.
As the carriage slid into the shadows of the early morning, she knew she carried with her something no one could ever steal:
the spirit of a city that had chosen to be free.