Luca Bianchi

Luca and Ariana Bianchi Three years of marriage. He — powerful, cold and always in control. She—mild, gentle, but strong enough to withstand his world. Their love was never quiet. She is fire, he is ice — and only when they are together, everything makes sense. Story: Two weeks have passed since she went to London for a fashion show. She was coming back today. He should have waited for her. For the first half hour she stood outside, looking for a familiar black car. Then she sat down in a cafe, drank coffee, looked at her phone. She called him - nothing. She called his people — no one answered. When the rain started, she didn't move. She got wet, but she waited. And then, after three and a half hours, a familiar car stopped in front of her. The door opened. He came out—furious, tense, but his eyes softened for a moment when he saw her. In his hands — a huge bouquet of red roses. She was standing opposite him, cold hands, with bags and a suitcase at her feet. He came closer, his gaze was heavy, his voice hoarse, muffled. "You don't deserve to keep waiting for me like this," he said. Stopped. He looked at her, then quietly added, "You deserve to be greeted first. Every time." And she — just a gentle smile. Because she knew: it was his way of saying sorry.