CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A THOUSAND LIFETIMES

The streets of Florence were stirring awake as Lance stepped outside.

Early sunlight spilled down the narrow alleyways, gilding the cobblestones and splashing bright, restless pools across the ancient walls. The city smelled of baking bread and the faint mineral tang of the river.

He inhaled deeply, the cool air cutting clean through his lungs.

Somewhere back at the Ospedale di Santa Lucia, a young girl was breathing on her own, her small body waging its quiet battle to heal.

As he rounded a corner, the warm, yeasty scent of fresh pastries lured him toward a small café just opening its shutters.

A thought struck him — Lily.

He imagined her waking in the hotel, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep.

After the kind of night she'd had, after the memories that must have found her even here, she deserved something soft. Something sweet.

On impulse, Lance stepped inside and ordered a cornetto alla crema — a golden pastry filled with silky custard — and a small pouch of sugar-dusted almond cookies.

The old woman behind the counter wrapped them carefully in brown paper, tying the bundle with a bit of twine.

He smiled and kept moving, tucking the package securely into his bag.

A small surprise.

A reminder that the morning could still be kind.

Lance pushed open the door to their hotel suite, the familiar scent of lavender and morning light greeting him like an old friend. He paused for a moment on the threshold, letting his gaze settle on the room's soft, sunlit corners, his heart a little lighter at the sight of Lily's luggage still scattered around.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her head tilted toward the window as if she were waiting for something. The sheets were tangled around her legs, a slight tremor in the air between them — the aftermath of whatever dreams or memories had gripped her during the night.

"Lily?" His voice was quieter than he'd meant it to be, soft as if not wanting to startle her from whatever place she'd been.

She turned slowly, her eyes a little unfocused, blinking against the remnants of sleep. The slight shadow beneath them told a story he already knew.

Lily smiled, but it was fleeting, and the edges of it wavered. "Hey," she said, her voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

Lance's gaze softened, his heart tugging in ways he hadn't expected. He took a quiet step forward, then another, his eyes searching her face as if looking for signs of the battle she'd fought in her sleep. But before he could say anything else, he pulled the small brown package from his bag and held it up with a small smile.

"I brought you something."

Her expression shifted from tired to surprised, a hint of curiosity sparking in her eyes. She took the package from his hands, her fingers brushing his just for a moment — a spark of warmth in the cool air of the room.

Lily carefully unwrapped the paper, her lips quirking into a soft smile as the familiar scent of fresh pastry and almonds filled the air. "You didn't have to," she murmured, voice almost shy as she met his eyes.

"I wanted to," Lance replied, his voice steady, though something in the way he looked at her betrayed the depth of his feelings — a silent understanding passing between them.

Lily took a small bite, the pastry melting in her mouth, and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "It's perfect, here, have some" she said stretching out towards him, quieter now, savoring the moment of calm.

Lance watched her, his hands in his pockets, feeling both the weight of the moment and the warmth of her small gesture.

Then, before he could gather his thoughts to speak, she stood, closing the space between them in a way that felt sudden, yet inevitable.

Lily wrapped her arms around him, her embrace lingering just a little longer than usual — a bit too long for a casual hug, yet somehow not long enough for him to pull away.

At first, Lance was still, surprised by the intensity of the hug, but soon, his arms slid around her, holding her close. He didn't speak, didn't need to, as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. Her warmth seeped into him, and for a moment, the chaos of the world outside didn't matter.

Lily's breath trembled against his chest as she tightened her hold on him, her fingers clutching the back of his shirt.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered, her voice soft, vulnerable in a way it hadn't been before.

Lance's heart tightened. He could feel her fragility, the pull of something more than just the weight of the past — the weight of their shared history.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions crashing inside him.

Lily pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and for the first time in days, something like peace flickered in her gaze.

"Good," she whispered. "Stay with me. Please."

Lance held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I will."

Lily took another bite of her pastry, savoring the warmth of the flaky crust and the sweetness of the filling. She glanced up at Lance, noting the weariness in his eyes despite the soft smile he offered her. He needed rest, and she could see it — his energy had been stretched thin for too long.

"You should get some sleep," she said gently, her voice still carrying the lingering softness of someone who had just woken up but was already awake to the needs of the people around her.

Lance raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to her, but he didn't argue. Instead, he gave a small nod.

"Alright," he murmured, dropping onto the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight, but he didn't settle in right away. His eyes were on her, lingering, as if he wasn't sure if he should leave her alone just yet.

Lily offered him a reassuring smile, the warmth of it slowly filling the space between them. "I'll be fine. I've got something I need to do."

She placed the half-eaten pastry down on the bedside table and stood, stretching just slightly as she straightened herself up. There was a quiet resolve in her movements, a kind of purposeful calm.

Lance closed his eyes, his hands folding beneath his head as he relaxed into the pillow, though his gaze never fully left her. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he just nodded again, trusting her.

"Alright. I'll be here when you get back," he said softly, his voice laced with warmth and an unspoken promise of safety.

Lily moved toward the door, grabbing her notebook from the small desk where she'd left it earlier. She could feel the weight of the paper, the pages filled with the echoes of past lives she'd written — their stories, their unfinished endings, the endings she had forcefully changed.

"I'll take a walk by the lake," she said over her shoulder, her voice quieter now. "I'll be back before lunch."

The door clicked shut behind her, and Lance allowed himself to finally close his eyes, the silence of the room wrapping around him like a blanket.

Lily walked toward the lake; the notebook clutched tightly to her chest as she stepped out into the crisp morning air. The path was peaceful, lined with soft grasses and wildflowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. She could hear the distant lapping of the water, the rhythmic sound like a lullaby, drawing her closer to the shore.

When she reached the lake, she took a moment to stand still, letting the cool air wash over her, letting it settle the lingering restlessness in her chest.

She had been through so much, more than anyone could really understand. The weight of the past lives — the losses, the heartbreak — it all threatened to swallow her if she didn't find a way to keep moving forward.

Her fingers flipped open the cover of the notebook, and she began to write.

The words flowed freely at first, then more carefully as she thought about what she was about to do. She had always been known for her happy endings, her ability to take a broken story and mend it into something beautiful. She had always been a master of hope. But this time felt different. This time, it was about them, about Lance and herself. The lives that existed in the now and here. Their love was real.

She wrote slowly, thoughtfully:

The story of us, it was never meant to end. This time, we will choose our ending. I will write it with every word, every hope, every dream I've ever had. And this time, I will make sure it is enough. We will have the happiness we deserve, a life worth living, together. No more loss. Just love. Just us.

She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the page as she absorbed her own words. There was a weight in them, a promise, an intention. This wasn't just fiction. This was a prayer. A manifestation.

She tapped her pen against the page, thinking. Searching.

And then she smiled — a slow, trembling smile — and wrote the words that had been blooming quietly inside her all along:

Caught You, Finally!

Her new book.

Because for lifetimes he had chased her across the shifting sands of time, and always, somehow, she had slipped away — through illness, through fate, through the cruel weight of goodbye.

But not this time.

* * *

The sunlight had shifted, casting a golden glow over the room when Lance finally stirred from his sleep. The quiet hum of the hotel around him was different now, less still and more alive with the movements of the afternoon. He blinked, stretching as the events of the morning slowly came back to him.

Lily had gone for a walk, her quiet promise echoing in his mind — I'll be back before lunch. But the soft sound of the room told him she hadn't returned yet. He glanced at the bedside clock: it was already well past noon.

A slight furrow creased his brow. He hadn't expected her to be gone so long. After all, she was just stepping out for a short while.

He slipped out of bed, his muscles stiff from the rest, but a sense of unease crept up his spine. His eyes darted to the open balcony doors, to the shimmering lake just outside, now caught in the middle of the afternoon sun. He knew she had said she would be there.

He quickly freshened up, throwing on a simple shirt and jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of his own lingering fatigue still pressing on him. But he wasn't about to let worry take root.

With a quiet sigh, he grabbed his jacket and stepped out onto the balcony, scanning the vicinity. There was no sign of her anywhere in the immediate area. She wasn't in the hotel's small garden or sitting on the patio. His steps quickened as he descended the stairs, his mind already heading toward the small lake she had discovered.

The air had warmed considerably, a contrast to the chill of the early morning. It felt like a good day to be outdoors, and the lake shimmered in the sunlight as if calling him. The path to the water was winding, lined with wild grasses and an occasional burst of colorful flowers. Lance's shoes crunched softly against the gravel as he followed the trail, scanning the edges of the lake for any sign of her. She was sitting by the water's edge, the notebook resting in her lap, her gaze fixed on the rippling surface. Her hair, slightly tousled by the breeze, framed her face softly. She hadn't noticed him yet.

Lance stood there for a moment, watching her. There was something about her stillness, the way she seemed to be lost in thought, that made him hesitate. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with determination, as if she had finally unraveled the secrets of the universe.

His feet moved before his thoughts could catch up, stepping lightly toward her, careful not to startle her.

"Lily?" he called gently, his voice calm but filled with a soft edge of concern.

Her head turned slowly; her expression momentarily unreadable before a smile broke through. It was warm, but there was a certain distance in her eyes, as if she hadn't quite returned to the present moment.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice light but apologetic. "I didn't mean to worry you. I lost track of time."

Lance offered a small smile, his heart settling a little at the sight of her. "No need to apologize. Just wanted to make sure you were alright."

He came closer, kneeling beside her. The afternoon light caught her hair, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in time. She looked up at him again, this time with a softness in her gaze.

He sat down beside her, their shoulders nearly brushing. For a moment, he simply watched the ripples move across the lake, giving her time. Then he asked, "How was yesterday?"

Lily exhaled shakily, the smile slipping from her lips. "It... was a lot," she whispered. "I woke up and it was like...everything just hit me at once. Memory after memory—different lives, different endings...all rushing in until I couldn't even tell what was real anymore." She pressed a hand over her heart, as if steadying it. "I'm sure now. Lance, I'm sure we've lived through so many lives together."

Lance didn't speak right away. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, the touch careful, reverent.

"I know," he said finally, voice rough with emotion. "I've always known."

Lily blinked at him, tears welling in her wide eyes.

"I started remembering when I was eighteen," Lance continued, looking down at his hands, as if seeing them bloodied by the weight of all he couldn't save. "At first it was just dreams...then flashes when I was awake. By nineteen, I was sure. I remembered everything. And... that was a major factor as to why I became a doctor." He let out a broken laugh. "It sounds crazy, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing you again. I had to be ready. I had to find you and save you when the time came."

The first sob tore from Lily's throat, raw and shaking. She clutched at him blindly, and Lance pulled her into his arms without hesitation, cradling her tightly against him.

"You're my guardian angel," she choked against his shoulder. "You didn't just save me...you saved my dad too. You were there when he collapsed—you were the one who brought him back."

Lance closed his eyes, holding her closer, feeling the trembling of her body against his own.

"I wasn't going to let either of you go," he whispered into her hair. "Not this time."

Lily sobbed harder, but there was something different in the sound — not just grief, but release. A lifetime of loneliness breaking open into something fierce and bright.

They stayed like that for a long time, under the wide, open sky — two souls, finally together, holding each other through the echoes of a thousand yesterdays into the beginning of forever. Eventually, Lily's sobs quieted, leaving behind only the occasional shuddering breath. Lance kept his arms around her, letting the silence settle like a soft blanket over them.

After a while, he pulled back just enough to see her face. Her eyes were swollen and pink, but she smiled at him — a real, luminous smile that made his heart ache.

He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, gentle. "You're incredible, you know that?"

Lily gave a watery laugh. "You're biased."

"Maybe." His lips curved. "Still true."

They sat there a little longer until Lance glanced at the low-slanting sun and the grumble of his own stomach reminded him they hadn't eaten properly all day.

"We should head back," he said softly. "We missed lunch. How about an early dinner?"

Lily nodded, sniffing once and wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan. "Sounds perfect. I'm starving."

Lance stood first, offering his hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet, their fingers naturally intertwining without thought.

As they walked back toward the hotel, the late afternoon light stretched long and golden before them, the path ahead wide open, waiting to be written — just like the pages Lily carried in her notebook.