Chapter 4

Before I could ask, my phone vibrated.

Matteo.

I answered.

"Where are you?" he demanded instead of saying hello.

I glanced at Rafael.

"We're in the Boboli Gardens."

"Of course you are."

"What does of course mean?"

"It means I've been looking everywhere except the one place you were obviously going to be."

I looked at Rafael.

He simply shrugged, completely unapologetic.

"So you're upset we got up early?" I asked.

"Yes."

He didn't hesitate for a second.

"Normal people sleep."

"It's almost ten."

"Exactly."

I couldn't help smiling.

It was strange how different they were.

Around Rafael...

the world seemed to slow down.

Every conversation felt quieter.

Every silence somehow mattered.

Around Matteo...

everything sped up.

Life became louder.

Brighter.

Impossible to ignore.

And somehow...

neither feeling was wrong.

"Studio. Thirty minutes," Matteo continued.

"I've got an idea."

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is."

The line went dead.

Rafael sighed.

"That's never a good sign."

"You think?"

"The last time Matteo had an idea..."

He paused.

"...the workshop nearly caught fire."

I studied his face.

He looked completely serious.

"You're joking."

"No."

Another beat passed.

"It was only the door."

I burst into laughter so loudly that several people turned to look at us.

Rafael's lips curved into another small smile.

It wasn't much.

But somehow, it felt like more than anyone else's laughter.

And for the first time since arriving in Florence, I realized I was looking forward to tomorrow.

Not because of the city.

Not because of university.

But because of the people I'd found here.

When we arrived at the studio, Matteo was already there.

Of course he was.

He didn't look like someone who had been waiting.

He looked like someone who had just discovered the greatest idea in architectural history and couldn't wait to tell the first unfortunate soul who walked through the door.

In this case...

both of us.

Photographs of the coastline were spread across the table in front of him, alongside printed maps and an open laptop.

The moment he saw us, he threw his arms into the air dramatically.

"Finally!"

He sat up straighter.

"I've got an idea."

Rafael set his sketchbook down.

"We noticed."

"This one's actually good."

"You say that every time."

"Because every time it is."

I slipped into the chair between them.

"All right."

"Let's hear it."

Matteo's eyes lit up.

I was beginning to recognize that expression.

The look of someone whose mind had been racing several hours ahead of everyone else's.

He turned the laptop toward us.

A photograph of the natural stone arch filled the screen.

Beneath it were images of boutique hotels from around the world.

Luxury resorts.

Award-winning architecture.

Buildings that had become famous in their own right.

"Everyone is looking at the arch," Matteo began.

"But nobody's looking at the view."

I studied the photographs again.

"What do you mean?"

He zoomed in on one of the images.

"Guests will come because of the arch."

His finger traced across the screen toward the sea beyond it.

"But they'll stay because of what they see when they wake up."

Silence settled over the table.

I had to admit...

It wasn't just a good idea.

It was a very good one.

I had to admit...

It wasn't just a good idea.

It was an excellent one.

"So you want the hotel to face the sea," I said.

"Exactly."

Meanwhile, Rafael was studying the topographical map.

Silent.

By now, I was beginning to understand what that meant.

He was thinking.

Finally, he looked up.

"It won't work."

Matteo frowned immediately.

"Why not?"

"Because you'll be fighting the landscape."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will."

Matteo leaned back in his chair.

"Then explain it to me."

Without a word, Rafael picked up a pencil.

He drew a few quick lines across the map.

"Look."

He pointed to the contour lines.

"The power of this place is that the arch has stood there for centuries."

His finger traced the curve of the coastline.

"It looks like it belongs there."

I nodded.

I already knew where he was going.

"If you build something that demands more attention than the arch..."

He looked up.

"...you destroy the very reason people came."

Matteo let out an exaggerated sigh.

"You really can turn every project into a philosophy lecture."

"And you can turn every project into a business plan," Rafael replied calmly.

This time, I didn't laugh.

Because they were both right.

And that was the problem.

Matteo saw future guests.

Rafael saw history.

One wanted to create something unforgettable.

The other wanted to create something timeless.

Neither of them was wrong.

Neither of them was willing to give in.

For a while, I simply stared at the photographs scattered across the table.

Then I pulled a blank sheet of paper toward me.

Neither of them noticed.

They were still arguing.

Not fighting.

Arguing.

There was a difference.

Their ideas collided.

They didn't.

At least...

not yet.

I sketched the arch.

Then the coastline.

Then a few simple lines.

At first, only for myself.

Just to make sense of the idea taking shape in my head.

Several minutes later, I turned the page toward them.

They both fell silent.

That was usually a good sign.

Matteo leaned in first.

Rafael followed.

The drawing didn't show a hotel.

Not exactly.

It showed several low buildings spread naturally along the coastline.

Partly hidden within the landscape.

Every room facing the sea...

while the stone arch remained the heart of the view.

"The guests still get their view," I said quietly.

Then I pointed to the second part of the sketch.

"But the arch stays the main character."

Matteo studied the drawing for a long time.

For the first time since I'd met him...

he didn't say a single word.

Oddly enough, that was almost unsettling.

Then he smiled.

"You're dangerous."

I blinked.

"What?"

He pointed at Rafael.

Then at himself.

"Every single time..."

"...you take two completely different ideas..."

"...and somehow turn them into something even better."

I looked at Rafael.

He simply nodded.

"That's why it works."

His voice was quiet.

Matter-of-fact.

At the time, I thought he was talking about the project.

It wasn't until much later...

that I realized he wasn't.

He was talking about the three of us.

We stayed in the studio long after everyone else had left.

None of us noticed.

First we talked about the project.

Then the design.

Then materials.

Somehow, the conversation drifted to movies...

and from there, to almost everything else.

What surprised me most wasn't how easily we talked.

It was how naturally they talked to each other.

As if they'd known one another for years.

Maybe they had.

"So," I asked, "how long have you two known each other?"

Matteo leaned back in his chair.

"Two years."

"And you still haven't killed each other?"

"It was close," Rafael said.

"He's lying."

"I'm not."

"Once," Matteo admitted.

"Was that because of the door?" I asked.

Rafael laughed.

Really laughed.

For the first time.

And suddenly I realized how completely it changed his face.

He looked younger.

Lighter.

More approachable.

Almost...

carefree.

"It was still only a door," he said.

Matteo turned to me.

"Don't believe him."

"Who am I supposed to believe?"

"Me."

I smiled.

"That sounds like the worst possible option."

This time...

they both laughed.

The sun was already sinking beyond the studio windows.

One by one, the tables around us emptied until we were the only people left.

None of us seemed ready to leave.

"I'm hungry," Matteo announced.

For what had to be the tenth time that day.

"You're always hungry," Rafael replied.

"That's not an argument."

"It is."

"No."

"Yes."

I looked up at the ceiling with a sigh.

"I'm beginning to understand why Professor Ricci put the three of us in the same group."

They both looked at me.

"Why?"

They asked in perfect unison.

I laughed.

"Because if you'd been split up..."

"...you would have driven twice as many people insane."

For a heartbeat...

silence.

Then Matteo burst out laughing.

Rafael joined him.

And before I knew it...

I was laughing too.

I wasn't entirely sure why.

Maybe because, after only a few days in Florence...

I no longer felt like a stranger.

Maybe because, for the first time since I'd arrived...

I felt as though I belonged somewhere.

Or maybe because I had no idea how precious those ordinary moments would one day become.

Because some memories...

only reveal their true value after they're gone.