Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Chuckles cascaded forth from Ollie's grinning mouth as he sent out a response to Rosetta's animated rants of her father's epic, yet inadvertently dangerous, pasta-making adventure as he tried his hands at making spaghetti all'assassina—a dish that, according to her lively accounts, had transformed their kitchen into a battlefield of smoke and chaos.
Having concluded her week-long sojourn in Constanța, followed by an additional three-day detour to Transnistria, she had finally returned to her home in Palermo.
Meanwhile, Ollie had been engrossed in his own professional pursuits on the other side of the universe—or at least it felt that way—and had just now landed and was crammed into a car with his family. In a valiant effort to announce his triumphant return to the same continent, he shot Rosetta another quick voice message, making it clear that he was safe and en route home.
He had been granted the blessings of having a few golden days of liberty before the impending plunge back into the high-speed circus leading up to Abu Dhabi, and what could be more profound than devoting every conscious moment to bask in the radiant presence of the woman he adored?
Unbeknownst to her, he was retracing the very roads that Rosetta had once walked with him during the warmth of those sun-soaked summer days.
A light drizzle added a sprinkle of magic to the scene, and the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops executed a tap-dance on the windshield, creating a mellifluous rhythm as he circled a block, perhaps missing a turn or two, claiming they were just alternative scenic routes. Serenading the rainy streets, he hummed along, his fingers performing an impromptu drum solo on the steering wheel, orchestrating a harmonious symphony with the car radio.
Navigating through the familiar twists and turns, he eventually found himself in the familiar driveway. As the vehicle rolled to a gentle halt near the front door, a figure awaited his arrival—a woman with flowing locks, slightly diminutive compared to Rosetta. The vivid pools of emeralds that were her eyes were ignited with a radiant glow that illuminated her entire visage.
The anticipation painted across her features was palpable, and with the car engine silenced, she stood there as an embodiment of warmth and eager expectancy, her eyes fixed on his figure as he quietly exited the car, careful not to make too much noise.
"Ma guarda chi c'è, il mio pilota preferito di Formula Uno," Rosetta's mother exclaimed with a hushed shout, and Ollie couldn't help but chuckle at her exuberance.
The blend of cheer and admiration in her words planted a seed of warmth within him, gradually sprouting into a jubilant grin that stretched from ear to ear. Yet, as the warmth spread, he couldn't shake the surreal feeling that lingered.
