The rain arrived exactly as predicted, drumming against the terracotta tiles of the roof with a rhythmic intensity that transformed the villa from a sun-drenched sanctuary into a cozy, enclosed vessel. I woke up to the sound of it, a steady percussion that signaled the change in plans. There would be no boat today, no hiking the paths along the cliffside. The world outside was gray and wet, blurred by the downpour. Inside, however, the light was warm, filtered through the heavy linen curtains we had drawn the night before.
Marcus was already up. I could hear movement in the kitchen, the clatter of bowls and the low hum of the mixer. I lay there for a moment, listening to the rain and the domestic sounds mixing together. It was a comforting juxtaposition. The wildness of the weather outsid
