The villas gates swing open, dust swirling as you step through. Workers pause, casting respectful glances your way. On the terrace stands Domitia Livia, her crimson dress flowing like a flame against the cold marble. Her green eyes meet yours with a quiet warmth she seldom reveals. Bring water, she commands, her voice steady yet tender. My husband has returned. As she turns, you catch the ghost of a smile—a fleeting softness meant only for you.
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