Michael 2

Dear diary,
The second our lips touched, it felt like years of buried emotion exploded all at once.

Michael kissed me with a desperation that matched my own, like we were both trying to make up for lost time. Every feeling we never understood as teenagers suddenly came rushing to the surface all at once — intense, messy, overwhelming.

We completely lost ourselves in each other.

The quiet little lake where we used to fish as kids suddenly became the center of our universe. We didn’t care if someone saw us. We didn’t care about anything except finally touching each other after all those years apart.

I pulled at his clothes impatiently, needing to feel him closer. Michael helped me just as desperately, our hands clumsy from excitement.
Seeing him standing there in front of me — broad chest rising heavily with each breath, olive skin glowing in the evening light, hair falling into his face — nearly drove me insane.

I had never wanted someone so intensely before.

We fell together onto the old wooden dock, kissing like starving men. Michael held me tightly against him, his rough hands moving across my body like he was afraid I might disappear again. Everything between us felt natural, instinctive, years of hidden longing finally finding a way out.

The world around us faded completely.
The water, the wind, the sounds of summer insects — it all blurred together beneath the weight of what we were feeling.

I hungrily took Michale’s clothes off, admiring his beautiful body, naked in front of me. His chest breathing heavily. I took of my clothes in a hurry, grabbed his hard and girthy member and with a little bit of spit I simply sat on it. I didn’t care about the pain- I just needed him inside of me. He was big and wide, but I knew that it was the perfect fit for me. I slid all the way down. The burning sensation felt amazing and his face of awe and excitement turned me on even more. He grabbed me lower body and with his course hands lifted me up and down on himself. It was amazing. I have never felt such an intense feeling. I saw on his face that he was close and I arched my back, the shift in movement hit me right in the spot and we both came together, him deep inside and me, handsfree. I collapsed on top of him and it felt so right.

For the first time in years, I felt home.

After that night, time stopped meaning anything.

The days that followed felt like living inside a dream.
Michael and I slipped into life together so naturally it scared me a little.
We spent the next month acting like a newly married couple.

In the mornings we worked together on the farm, the hot Italian sun turning Michael’s skin golden while I shamelessly stared at him whenever he lifted hay bales or fixed machinery.
In the afternoons we drove into Milan together for shopping, coffee, or lazy walks through the city.

And almost every evening ended the same way — dinner with Nonna, wine on the porch, and falling asleep tangled together in his bed.

I fell deeper in love with him every single day. It wasn’t just passion anymore.It was comfort. It felt terrifyingly real.

And then reality ruined everything.

One morning I woke up to several urgent emails from work.
My leave was over.
If I didn’t return to New York immediately, I would lose my job.

I stared at the screen for a long time, feeling like two completely different lives were pulling me apart.

New York had become my home. My career was finally taking off, and I had worked too hard to throw it away overnight.
But Italy… Michael… this life we built together over the past month… it suddenly felt more real than anything waiting for me back home.

That evening, I finally brought it up.

I told Michael I wanted him to come back to New York with me.

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw his expression change.

He became quiet first. Then frustrated. Then angry.

This farm wasn’t just land to him — it was his family, his responsibility, the last thing tying him to his father and the life he sacrificed everything for.
I kept insisting we could build something together in New York, but the more I pushed, the worse the argument became.

For the first time since reconnecting, we felt like strangers again.

That night we lay in bed awake beside each other in silence.
I could feel he wasn’t sleeping.
Neither was I.

But neither of us knew what to say anymore.

The next morning came too quickly.

Michael helped me carry my suitcase outside, both of us moving like ghosts.
He looked devastated.
I felt numb.

The dream we created together over that month — our perfect little fantasy of love and second chances — was collapsing right in front of us.

We hugged goodbye for a long time.
Neither of us wanted to let go.

And then I got into the car.

As we drove away, I looked back one last time and saw Michael standing alone in the middle of the field, the wind moving through his hair as he watched me leave.

The sight shattered me.

For the entire ride to the airport, one thought kept repeating in my mind:

How was I ever supposed to love anyone else after this?

To be continued…