1476, Florence
"I know women are encouraged to marry at 15 in this century, but back in my time, 17 is still quite young to do so. We waited until I was 18 before we decided to finally be married." I said, recounting my past with my now ex-husband Alec Deighton.
Aunt Simona has been very attentive. She's been quietly listening to my story patiently. "I see, dear. I presumed that Constantine was accepting of your marriage."
Smiling bitterly, I look up at her and shake my head no. "He was very adamant about me marrying Alec. He said I was too young."
"What happened then?"
Looking at the distance, I recall every bitter thing that followed after my wedding. "He refused to talk to me when I told him that I would still marry Alec. I never heard from him afterward."
Sighing, Aunt Simona looks on the outside as if remembering something. "I never thought you and your father's stubbornness will cause your relationship to sour but somehow, I'm not surprised."
Chuckling at the fact, I look back at her. "We made up anyway. After 5 years...When he left..." I trailed.
"It's over now, my dear." She said, reaching out to my hands and holding them encouragingly.
"Not all men are the same and so is the experience that you'll have with them."
I knew she meant Botticelli, realizing she's been watching the two of us closely. My only response is a smile.
"I miss playing the piano," I said, as Botticelli paints me.
"What is that?" He asks, his eyes still glued to the panel.
"Well, it's like a church organ, only without the pipes and rather smaller. It wouldn't be invented for another 200 years, unfortunately." I said, realizing that Bartolomeo Cristofori, the inventor of the piano, wouldn't be born for another century.
"Hmm... are you adequate in the said instrument?" He asks, lifting his gaze towards me for a moment and then looking back at his work.
"I'm a reasonable pianist but I must admit I never truly focused my time on it."
"To what did you pour your heart and attention?"
Smiling at the memory, I replied. "Ballet." He looks up with confusion in his eyes which made me chuckle. "It's a form of dance that will be invented in a few years."
Now interested, Botticelli put his equipment down and said, "What kind of dance is it?"
"Well, it's very difficult to explain but I can show you."
"If you don't mind." He said, leaning on the wall as he looks on.
I placed the chair aside to give me room. Knowing I cannot show him my feet, I simply dance a few steps I remember. The warmth on my chest rapidly spread along my body, as if recognizing what I'm doing is something I have always loved to do.
However, as I spin on my tiptoes, I felt a sharp pain in my left foot, causing me to lose my balance. I was anticipating the fall when instead of reaching the cold floor, I was in Botticelli's arms.
Our faces are a few centimeters away from each other. My heartbeat continues to escalate as I look at his beautiful brown eyes. Unlike before, I do not feel the need to pull away but quite the opposite.
His sensuous lips invite me in for a taste, and for what seems like an eternity, I can already feel my will breaking. I thought I couldn't, but I resisted. His eyes traveled from my eyes to my lips and before I knew it, our lips are locked against each other.
It's been a while since I felt this feeling. The fluttering in my stomach progresses but finally being able to kiss him made me reach to his neck as a confirmation that I'm not dreaming of it. When we parted our lips, both of us are flushed.
Unable to speak, he helped me back to my feet and we continued what we were meant to do. Only this time, our smiles lingered.