When Luca arrived home straight from Falcone Industries, the first person he sought was Sara. He found the house butler, Jonathan, who confirmed she was in the kitchen.
Luca glanced down at the gift bag clutched in his hand, one he hoped conveyed a deeper sentiment. "I hope she doesn’t deny accepting it," he murmured. He quickly hid the bag behind his back and rushed straight to the kitchen.
The moment he stepped across the threshold, the aroma of the food being prepared reached his nostrils. He found Sara working alone, immersed in the task of cooking.
"You could have asked others to help you," Luca said, his voice instantly softening from the demanding tone he used at work.
"You arrived!" Sara greeted him as she lifted her gaze and lowered the stove flame. "I usually cook by myself," she answered his concern, wiping her hands on a kitchen cloth. "How did it go? The meeting in the Falcone Industries."
Luca’s face hardened as he recounted while carefully concealing the bag behind him.
"Diego is supposed to return double the money he stole," he explained, listing the terms of his retribution. "Additionally, he will not work for a year in any company. And he will take the blame for the fallout of Falcone Industries."
Sara’s eyes widened in shock. "What? But he’s not the one who—" her words were instantly cut off by Luca, who was in no mood for dissent or mitigation.
"It’s the price he must pay for not going to prison," Luca replied. "Diego deserved it all because he took advantage of your vulnerability at that time. And, his sister is the one who trapped you, but he’s saving her. In short, all of them are involved for your today’s misery."
Luca stepped closer. "Besides, you promised me that you would let me do whatever I want," he reminded her with his intense gaze.
"It’s just the beginning of their misery, Sara De Augustino." The use of her full, married name was both possessive and a reminder of the powerful identity she now held.
Sara’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a profound burden lifting from her. The years of financial and emotional debt she had carried were finally cleared.
"Thank you," she replied. The victory, however, was bittersweet. "The only regret I have is that I can’t bring my grandmother to live with us. That house carries the memories of my late grandfather."
She quickly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, refusing to let the emotion derail her focus, and turned her attention back to the stove. She was determined to concentrate on the lunch preparation: Merluza en Salsa Verde (Hake in Green Sauce).
Thankfully she didn’t eat much with Vinni, so her stomach still had space for food.
Before Luca could move to console her or address her lingering sadness, Sara had already pushed past the moment.
She checked the potato stew along with the accompanying vegetables simmering on the second burner.,
"You should freshen up," Sara said. "Then, we can eat together."
"I want to help you," Luca pronounced, walking directly behind her. He quickly tucked the small gift bag into a nearby cabinet. Then, he moved to the sink and washed his hands.
"You must be tired," Sara insisted, genuinely concerned about the grueling day.
But to her surprise, Luca didn’t argue. He simply reached for the counter and had already fastened an apron around his waist. He looked entirely out of place, yet completely sincere.
"I can’t let you work alone in the kitchen," he pronounced. "Even if my help will be little, I want to do it."
Sara smiled and hummed.
~~~~~
After they finished setting the table, Luca excused himself. He returned quickly, holding a chilled bottle of white wine. He retrieved two elegant glasses from the cupboard and brought them over to the table.
With care, he filled both glasses, the pale yellow wine glistening under the day light, before finally sitting down across from Sara.
As they began eating, Luca’s intensity softened, replaced by pure, immediate pleasure. He took a bite of the fish and then the stew. "You should have been a chef," he declared, unable to hide his admiration.
"I am not that great a cook," Sara replied, allowing herself a small, warm smile. "You’re too flattering with your words."
"No. It’s the truth. Everything is so delicious," Luca insisted, savoring the food. He ate a spoonful of the potato stew with the vegetables. "I hardly get to eat such food anywhere."
"Well," Sara answered, meeting his gaze, "home-cooked food is always good. You have a family, yet you chose to live alone. Your mother would have cooked such dishes for you everyday, I suppose."
Luca’s expression tensed instantly upon hearing Sara’s statements. He slowly lowered his fork and fixed his gaze on her.
"My mother never cared for me," he replied. "She hardly goes to the kitchen. At home, all the work was done by the maids. And it’s still the same." He dismissed her statement about home-cooked food as a foreign concept to his upbringing.
"Oh." Sara was now completely unable to understand how she would even bring up the topic of shifting to his ancestral home, realizing the deep resentment rooted in his past.
The subject shifted abruptly. "Do you miss your mother?" Luca asked an unexpected question. "Did you ever try to find her?" He brought the wine glass to his mouth, savoring the wine as he waited for her answer.
"I do miss her whenever I see those who have mothers," Sara admitted. "I don’t know why she left me behind. I wonder if she has her own family now. Is she loving her new kids? Why did she not return the same love to me? And even after so many years passed, she never once showed herself."
Luca lowered the glass, ready to speak.
"You’re lucky. Your parents care for you," Sara said, "especially your mother. You should consider living with your parents. Unlike my parents, yours never abandoned you."