THREE WEEKS LATER...
The numbers on the spreadsheet blurred together.
Denisse rubbed at her tired eyes before reaching for another folder stacked neatly beside her laptop. Purchase orders, inventory reports, harvest projections. One document flowed into the next until they became little more than columns of figures and signatures.
She didn't notice the daylight fading beyond the office windows.
A knock sounded against the half-open door.
"Ms. Denisse?"
She looked up.
One of the winery staff stood outside with an apologetic smile.
"Dinner's ready. Your parents asked me to let you know."
For a second, she only blinked.
She glanced at the clock tucked into the corner of her monitor.
Past seven.
"I... didn't realize it was that late."
The staff member smiled knowingly before excusing herself.
Denisse leaned back in her chair and let out a slow breath, flexing the stiffness from her fingers. She closed the last folder and rested both hands on the desk.
Three weeks.
Three weeks since she'd left the city.
Three weeks since she'd walked away from the company.
Three weeks since she'd watched her apartment disappear behind the bend in the road.
She'd thrown herself into work almost the moment she returned home.
If she was no longer someone's assistant, then she would become the daughter this vineyard had always expected her to be.
Every morning began before sunrise. Meetings with suppliers. Tastings with her father. Reviewing production schedules. Walking the vineyards with the foreman to inspect the vines one row at a time. By evening, paperwork waited for her back at the estate.
There was always something that needed her attention.
She welcomed it.
Work filled the hours.
It just never reached the quiet parts of the day.
Some nights, long after the house had gone still, she would lie awake in her bedroom with tears slipping silently into her pillow. Other nights, the sobs came before she could stop them, echoing through the room she had once outgrown and somehow found herself returning to.
No one ever knocked.
No one asked why she had resigned so suddenly.
No one asked why she'd come home looking like someone who had left part of herself behind.
Her mother would simply leave breakfast waiting each morning.
Her father would hand her another folder to review or ask if she wanted to walk the vineyard with him after lunch.
Her brother treated her the same as he always had.
They gave her space.
Perhaps they were waiting for the day she was ready to speak.
Or perhaps they already understood that some wounds couldn't be rushed into words.
Denisse rose from her chair and crossed to the window.
The vineyards stretched across the hills, endless rows of vines glowing beneath the last light of the evening. A warm breeze carried the scent of earth and leaves through the open window.
She rested one hand against the frame.
Without meaning to, she smiled.
The memory arrived as easily as the breeze.
Lesley, standing between the vines with an exasperated look after Denisse had insisted she help harvest grapes "for the experience."
"You own the vineyard," Lesley had complained, holding up the small basket she'd barely managed to fill. "You're making me do free labor."
Denisse had laughed so hard she'd nearly dropped her own basket.
"You'll survive."
"I'd rather survive somewhere with air-conditioning."
The memory lingered for another heartbeat before dissolving into the quiet.
Her smile faded.
She still missed her.
God, she missed her.
Three weeks hadn't changed that.
If anything, the distance had given her too much time to think. Every quiet moment brought her back to the same truth she'd been trying to outrun. Lesley had trusted her with everything, and Denisse hadn't trusted her enough.
She wondered how Lesley was doing.
Whether she was sleeping.
Whether she was eating properly.
Whether she'd smiled at all these past three weeks.
The questions had no answers.
Denisse kept her gaze to the vineyards beyond.
The estate hadn't stopped because her heart had broken.
The vines still needed tending.
The barrels still needed filling.
Harvest season would come whether she was ready or not.
She drew a slow breath, letting the cool evening air settle inside her.
Life was moving forward.
So she would too.
One step.
One day.
One harvest at a time.
--
Denisse slipped into her chair at the dining table, the polished wood cool beneath her fingertips as she pulled it closer. Dinner was already underway. Steam curled lazily from the dishes spread across the table, carrying the familiar scent of roasted meat, garlic, and freshly cooked rice. Her father looked up first, offering a small smile, while her younger brother barely glanced away from his food.
Her mother, however, folded her arms.
"If I hadn't sent Nikki to call you from your office, you probably wouldn't have remembered it was dinner time, dear."
A flicker of guilt crossed Denisse's face. She reached for her glass before answering.
"Sorry, Mom." She offered an apologetic smile. "I was finishing the last inventory report. I got completely caught up in it."
Her father chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"Honey, don't work yourself too hard, okay? If you need help, just ask."
"Yes, Dad."
She picked up her utensils, grateful when the conversation drifted elsewhere as everyone settled into their meal. The comfortable rhythm of family dinner soon returned—Drake talking between bites, their father mentioning deliveries for the winery, their mother reminding everyone about an upcoming charity event.
The easy chatter loosened the lingering tension in Denisse's shoulders.
She glanced across the table at her younger brother.
"Your birthday's coming up, Drakey." A teasing smile tugged at her lips. "Anything you want this year?"
Drake leaned back dramatically, tapping his chin as if he needed serious consideration. The act lasted barely a second.
"Well..." His grin gave him away immediately. "Since graduation's still another year away, I'll have to keep waiting for that car you promised me."
Denisse laughed under her breath.
"Mhm." She nodded. "And only if you graduate with honors."
"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hand. "So I was thinking... maybe this year you could get me a motorbike."
"A motorbike?"
"Like Lesley's." His eyes brightened. "The one she rode when she was here last month, helping Dad with the—"
The words stopped abruptly.
Silence settled over the table with surprising weight.
Denisse's fork froze halfway to her plate.
Beside her, her mother's expression tightened almost imperceptibly before she shot Drake a warning look.
Drake's face drained of color.
I'm sorry, he mouthed silently.
Lesley.
The name settled somewhere beneath Denisse's ribs, awakening a familiar ache she had spent weeks learning to ignore.
She lowered her fork onto the plate with a quiet clink.
Last month?
Her thoughts caught on the words.
Lesley had been here?
She searched her memory, turning over every conversation they had shared. Phone calls. Text messages. The time they'd spent together. Nothing. Not a single mention.
She had come here...
Without telling her.
Why?
A problem with the restaurant's wine supply, maybe? It wouldn't have been unusual for Lesley to stop by the winery if there had been an issue with an order.
But if that were true...
Why hadn't she said anything?
A quick message would've taken seconds.
Even a simple, I'm stopping by your family's winery today.
Instead, there had been nothing.
No call.
No text.
Only silence.
Denisse wrapped her fingers around her fork again, determined to finish her dinner. She lifted it, but before it ever reached her mouth, her hand slowed and stopped. The knot in her chest refused to loosen, stealing whatever appetite she had left.
Around the table, conversation resumed in careful fragments, everyone pretending nothing had happened.
No one met her eyes.
--
Denisse stepped out onto the balcony with a glass of wine cradled in one hand. The cool evening air greeted her at once, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her sleeves and settling against her skin. She welcomed the chill. It gave her something simple to feel.
She rested both forearms on the wrought-iron railing and looked out across the estate.
The vineyards stretched endlessly beneath the night sky, row after row of vines disappearing into the horizon. A breeze wandered through the fields, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and ripening grapes. Somewhere in the distance, leaves whispered against one another, and the familiar sound wrapped around the silence.
She lifted the glass to her lips, letting the wine linger on her tongue. Rich. Smooth. A vintage from her family's own vineyard.
Usually, it tasted like home.
Tonight, it tasted different.
The conversation from earlier refused to leave her alone.
She had cornered her parents at dinner, demanding to know why Lesley had come to the estate without her even knowing.
The answer had unraveled everything she thought she knew.
Lesley had been meeting with one of their family's biggest prospective import partners in Paris. She had arranged the opportunity herself, opening doors Denisse's family had struggled to reach for years. It wasn't for recognition. She had asked them to keep it from Denisse because she already knew how she'd react.
Denisse would refuse.
She would call it unnecessary.
She would insist she didn't need help.
So Lesley had simply done it anyway.
Quietly.
Without asking for thanks.
Denisse closed her eyes.
A slow breath left her as the weight of that truth settled deeper than she wanted to admit.
How easily she had believed one person.
One conversation.
One accusation.
One carefully planted doubt.
That had been enough for her to question Lesley's sincerity.
She hadn't even given her the ch0ance to explain.
The realization stung more sharply than the cold air.
Her fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass.
All this time, she'd convinced herself that love had to be spoken aloud, defined, reassured with words she could hold onto.
Yet Lesley had been speaking in ways Denisse had never stopped to hear.
Every unexpected effort.
Every quiet sacrifice.
Every decision made behind the scenes, not for praise, not for credit, but because it would make Denisse's life a little easier.
Even this.
A chance to expand her family's business into Paris—something Denisse herself had dreamed about—had become another silent gift. Lesley had walked into meetings, built connections, and carried that burden alone because she already knew Denisse's pride would stand in the way.
The confession had never come wrapped in three simple words.
It had been hidden inside countless moments Denisse had overlooked.
She lowered her gaze to the wine swirling inside the glass.
How many other moments had she missed?
How many times had Lesley loved her while Denisse had been waiting to hear it instead of seeing it?
The breeze lifted a loose strand of hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ear, her eyes drifting once more over the endless vineyards stretching into the distance.
The estate had never felt this quiet.
Or perhaps it was only her.
The silence left too much room for memories.
For regret.
For every conversation she wished she had handled differently.
Her grip loosened around the glass.
If love could survive being spoken without words...
Could it survive being doubted?
Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, searching the endless rows of vineyards for an answer that refused to come.