One evening, sitting on the restored terrace as the sun bled gold into the vineyards, Linh realized something.
She saw not ruin, but a mirror.
"One week," she whispered to herself. "Just one week in Italy."
She had booked a cheap tour to Tuscany, hoping olive groves and medieval hill towns could stitch her broken pieces back together. She didn't believe it would work. But staying in Ho Chi Minh City felt impossible.
The first month was hell. Leaky roof. No hot water. A nest of mice in the kitchen. Linh cried onto the terra cotta floors, convinced she had made the worst mistake of her life—which was saying something, after her marriage.
But then came Matteo.
