They stepped back into the piazza as the evening settled fully over the village. Lanterns hung between the buildings and swayed gently in the breeze, their warm light shifting across the stone pavement in soft patterns that moved like water. The air carried the mingled sounds of conversation and music, the violin rising and falling in an easy rhythm that felt unhurried and alive. Groups clustered at café tables, glasses catching the light as hands moved animatedly in conversation. Laughter rose and fell without urgency, folding into the music rather than interrupting it, as if the night did not belong to anyone in particular and would last exactly as long as it wished.
The heat from the day had softened into something pleasant. The stone still held warmth beneath their shoes, but the air itself had cooled enough to brush lightly across exposed skin.
