CHAPTER 2 : SHADOWS OF THE PAST

song - Middle of night ( violin cover ) by Joel sunny

____________________________________________________________________

The night air in Florence carried a cool whisper as Rafaella stood on the balcony of her family’s villa. The laughter and chatter from the dinner below faded into the background as she gazed out at the city’s twinkling lights.

Her mind was restless.

She should have been thinking about Marcello, about the future her parents had planned for her, about the expectations placed upon her shoulders.

But all she could think about was him.

Cristiano DeLuca.

His name alone sent an unfamiliar warmth through her chest. It was irrational. Illogical. She barely knew him, yet he felt like someone she had always known.

Her fingers tightened around the railing.

“What is happening to me?” she murmured.

Behind her, the door to the balcony creaked open. She turned, expecting to see her mother or father. Instead, Marcello stepped outside, his expression unreadable.

“You disappeared,” he said, his voice smooth but distant.

“I needed some air.”

Marcello studied her, his sharp blue eyes searching for something in her face. “You’ve been distracted all evening.”

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“Is it about the wedding?”

Rafaella hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Marcello’s jaw tensed, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his usually confident demeanor. “Do you want this, Rafaella?”

She looked away. “I don’t know what I want.”

He exhaled, stepping closer. “Our families expect us to be together. And honestly, I’ve always thought we’d make a good match.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But does a ‘good match’ mean happiness?”

Marcello was silent for a moment. Then, with a resigned sigh, he stepped back. “I don’t want to force you into anything.”

Rafaella looked at him, surprised.

He gave a small, sad smile. “But I hope, in time, you’ll choose me.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Rafaella alone with her thoughts.

Her heart should have felt lighter after hearing his words.

But all she felt was confusion.

---

At the Santa Maria Novella courtyard, Cristiano sat beneath the ancient archways, his violin resting against his knee. The city was quieter here, tucked away from the usual tourist spots. Only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the river filled the silence.

Leonardo paced in front of him, his expression tense. “You’re playing with fire, Cristiano.”

Cristiano smirked. “I always have.”

“I’m serious.” Leonardo ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve waited so long for her, but what if she never remembers?”

Cristiano’s smile faded slightly. “She will.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Cristiano looked up at the stars. “Then I’ll remind her.”

Leonardo sighed. “And if she chooses someone else?”

A shadow passed over Cristiano’s face. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picked up his violin and played a soft, haunting melody.

The same melody that had drawn Rafaella to him.

Leonardo listened for a moment before shaking his head. “You really believe love can defy time, don’t you?”

Cristiano met his gaze, his eyes filled with something ancient, something unbreakable.

“I don’t believe it,” he said softly.

“I know it.”

---

That night, as Rafaella lay in bed, sleep came reluctantly. But when it did, it carried her somewhere unexpected.

She stood in a vast golden field, the sun warm against her skin. The air smelled of wildflowers, and in the distance, the faint sound of laughter echoed.

And then, she saw him.

Not Cristiano as she knew him now, but someone almost the same—yet different. His clothes were simpler, his hair slightly longer, but his eyes…

His eyes were exactly the same.

She stepped forward, drawn to him as if by some invisible force.

“Cristiano?” she whispered.

He turned, his lips curling into a familiar, knowing smile.

“You found me,” he murmured.

Before she could respond, the dream shattered.

She woke with a start, her heart pounding.

Sweat clung to her skin as she stared at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

It had been a dream.

Hadn’t it?

But then, why did it feel so real?

And why, deep down, did she feel like she had truly found him before… in another life?

The early morning sun bathed Florence in hues of gold and amber, but inside the Moretti villa, Rafaella felt trapped in a storm of emotions.

She had barely slept. The dream—if it had even been a dream—lingered in her mind, replaying in vivid flashes. The golden fields. The warmth of the sun. Cristiano’s voice, gentle yet certain.

“You found me.”

What did it mean?

She had never believed in past lives, never given much thought to fate or destiny. But something about Cristiano unsettled the foundations of everything she thought she knew.

And worst of all… she wasn’t sure she wanted to fight it.

---

At the Piazza

Rafaella needed answers.

That was how she found herself walking through Piazza della Signoria, scanning the bustling crowd, searching for him. She had no reason to believe he would be here, yet something in her heart told her he would be.

And she was right.

There, beneath the statue of Perseus, Cristiano stood with his violin, the same instrument that had first drawn her to him. He wasn’t playing yet—just standing still, gazing into the distance as if waiting for something.

Or someone.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer. “You’re always in the right place at the right time, aren’t you?”

Cristiano turned to her, and for the briefest moment, something flickered in his expression—recognition, relief. But it was gone just as quickly. He smirked instead.

“I could say the same about you,” he replied.

Rafaella hesitated before speaking. “I had a dream.”

His smile faded slightly. “A dream?”

She nodded. “I was in a field. And you were there.”

Cristiano’s eyes softened, his fingers loosen around the violin’s neck. “What else do you remember?”

“That’s the problem,” she admitted. “I don’t know if it was real. But it felt… familiar.”

Cristiano studied her carefully. “Some memories aren’t bound to time, Rafaella. They exist beyond logic, beyond explanation.”

Her breath caught. “So, you do know something.”

He exhaled softly, as if weighing his words. “I know that some souls are connected beyond a single lifetime.”

Her heart pounded. “And us?”

Cristiano held her gaze for a long moment before replying.

“You’re starting to remember.”

---

The Festival of Music

The streets of Florence came alive with the Festa della Musica—the festival Cristiano had mentioned before. Every corner of the city echoed with melodies, from grand orchestras to lone musicians playing by candlelight.

Rafaella had always attended with her family, but tonight, she had only one person she wanted to see.

Cristiano.

She found him on a small stage in a quiet square, his violin in hand. As he began to play, the crowd hushed. The melody was soft, haunting, achingly familiar.

Rafaella’s chest tightened.

She had heard this song before.

Not just in the music shop. Not just in the piazza. But somewhere else, somewhere she couldn’t explain.

The song carried her away, her surroundings blurring as visions flickered in her mind.

A festival—but not this one. Lanterns floating into the sky. A man, pulling her onto a dance floor. Laughter. Love. A promise whispered in the night.

As Cristiano played the final note, Rafaella stumbled back, breathless.

Cristiano lowered his violin, his gaze locking onto hers.

“You remember,” he murmured.

She did.

Not everything. Not yet.

But a part of her had woken up.

And there was no turning back.

The world around Rafaella felt different after the festival. Colors seemed brighter, sounds clearer, emotions deeper. It was as if something inside her had shifted—like a locked door had finally creaked open.

Cristiano’s melody still echoed in her mind, haunting yet comforting. She didn’t just remember the song; she felt it, as if it had been a part of her soul long before she had ever heard it in this lifetime.

But how was that possible?

Standing by the Arno River, she watched the gentle ripples dance under the soft glow of lanterns. The air was warm, carrying the scent of roses from a nearby garden. It was late, but sleep felt impossible.

She had too many questions.

And only one person could answer them.

---

At the Music Shop

The small bell above the door chimed as Rafaella stepped inside the music shop.

Cristiano was there, of course.

He stood by the window, tuning his violin, but when he saw her, his hands stilled. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.

“I remember pieces,” she admitted softly.

Cristiano set his violin down. “Tell me.”

She took a deep breath. “A festival, but not this one. Lanterns in the sky. Dancing. You were there. We were together.”

Cristiano’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—a silent confirmation.

She stepped closer. “Who were we?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his dark curls. “That’s a difficult question.”

“But you know the answer.”

A shadow crossed his face. “Would you believe me if I told you?”

Rafaella hesitated. “I don’t know. But I need to understand.”

Cristiano studied her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“There was a time,” he said softly, “when our souls belonged to each other. A time when love wasn’t complicated by family expectations or social obligations.”

Her breath caught.

Cristiano’s voice dropped to a whisper. “A time when you and I made a promise—to find each other, no matter what.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

The weight of his words settled deep within her.

She had felt this connection before—but not in this life.

And somehow, she knew he was telling the truth.

---

That night, Rafaella’s dreams took her somewhere new.

She stood on the balcony of a grand villa—not her family’s home, but somewhere older, more ancient. The stars stretched endlessly above, and the air smelled of wildflowers and the distant sea.

Soft laughter echoed behind her.

She turned.

Cristiano—but not as he was now—stood before her. His clothing was different, his hair slightly longer, but his eyes were the same.

“You always find me,” he murmured.

Her heart ached with familiarity.

“I promised I would,” she whispered.

A hand reached out—hers, trembling as it touched his cheek.

And then—

Darkness.

Rafaella jolted awake, gasping.

Her hands clenched the sheets as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

This wasn’t just a dream.