Semua Bab Whisked Away : Bab 11 - Bab 20

Two months later, life in Bellwood Falls had settled into something Amara had once thought impossible: peace.Not perfection. Not silence. But peace.The house Luca bought was now their home. Noah’s room was indeed painted like outer space tiny glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, and a big poster of Mars above his bed. Amara’s old apartment was empty now, save for memories and leftover spice jars.They had routines now.Mornings started with Luca making espresso and Noah begging for chocolate chip pancakes. Amara would pack school lunches while teasing Luca about his “gourmet avocado obsession.” Then came school drop-offs, followed by long hours in the kitchen, new recipes, and laughter woven between orders.But one quiet Friday morning, something changed.Amara stood in the bathroom staring at a tiny white stick.Positive.She blinked.Looked again.Still positive.Her heart dropped into her stomach, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.Later That Day – The Kitche

Three months after the fire, Terra e Fiamma reopened its doors shinier, warmer, and more welcoming than ever. The kitchen sparkled with new tiles, the dining area smelled faintly of lemon oil and basil, and laughter once again filled the air.But for Luca and Amara, the real excitement wasn’t inside the restaurant.It was next door.What used to be an abandoned flower shop had been transformed, over six tireless weeks, into something entirely new:La Cucina di Famiglia — The Family Kitchen.A cooking school for families.Parents. Kids. Grandparents.Food lovers of every age.It was Amara’s idea — sparked by the simple joy of teaching Noah how to whisk eggs without sending half of it across the counter. But Luca took it and ran, drawing up plans, hiring a small staff, and designing each station with his usual obsessive love for detail.This time, though, the menus weren’t about impressing critics.They were about connection.Opening DayThe smell of cinnamon rolls and rosemary focacci

The morning sun poured golden light through the windows of La Cucina di Famiglia, warming the countertops and casting a halo on the chalkboard sign that read:“Couples Class: Italian Sauces & Sweet Surprises”Amara waddled in first, one hand on her eight-month belly, the other balancing a box of menus and a thermos of chamomile tea.“God,” she muttered, “this baby’s sitting on my lungs like a loaf of sourdough.”Luca trailed behind her, humming softly and carrying a tray of mini tiramisù cups. “The little one has great taste, obviously.”“You bribed it with panna cotta last night.”“Worked, didn’t it?”She smirked. “Barely.”He leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Today’s the day.”She blinked. “The day for what?”But he just smiled and kissed her forehead. “You’ll see.”Later That Afternoon Class BeginsTwelve couples filed in, buzzing with energy and curiosity. Amara welcomed them as usual, but Luca seemed unusually chipper too chipper. Almost suspiciously chipper.“Alright,

One year later.The hills of Tuscany rolled like waves, golden and green under the early spring sun. Olive trees whispered in the breeze. Grapevines stretched in neat rows across the valley.And nestled between two dusty roads, a villa stood with sun-washed bricks and a hand-painted sign:“Terra e Vino — Cucina. Amore. Famiglia.”(Earth and Wine — Kitchen. Love. Family.)Amara stood in the open courtyard, her hands dusted with flour, a baby on her hip — Giulia Belle DiLorenzo, now six months old and already grabbing for bread crusts.“You know,” she said to Luca, “most people just go on vacation. You buy property.”Luca chuckled, flipping a slab of porchetta on the outdoor grill. “I promised you Tuscany. And I promised I’d bribe my cousin with gelato to run it.”She smiled, watching Noah chase Sophia through the olive trees.The dream had taken time.They rented out the Bellwood restaurant for a few months to a trusted sous-chef. The school ran shorter seasons, with Rosie overseeing i

It started with a flyer.Bright yellow, stuck to the window of a bakery in Siena.“Junior Chef Italia — Ages 8–13. Bring your passion. Show your flavor. Cook your heart out.”Noah spotted it during a family gelato run and stopped cold.Amara noticed the way his eyes lingered.“You okay?”He hesitated, chewing his lip. “Can I try?”Luca looked at him, surprised. “Try?”Noah straightened his back, voice firmer. “I want to enter.”Amara blinked. “Noah, that’s a national contest. Are you sure?”He nodded. “I know I’m not the best. But I want to learn. I want to see what I’m made of.”Luca and Amara exchanged a glance.Then Luca knelt in front of him, hands on his shoulders.“Then we’ll make sure the whole country knows your name, Chef Noah.”The Training BeginsFor three weeks, the villa kitchen became Noah’s bootcamp.Every morning, he practiced knife skills on carrots and onions.Afternoons were for sauces and starches — béchamel, risotto, perfectly timed pasta.Evenings ended with flav