He looked at Maria, who stood a few paces away. Their families had been at odds for a generation over a strip of land that grew nothing but thorns, yet they had grown something else entirely.
The sun was dipping low over the outskirts of Barbulesti when Fernando stood by the rusted gate of the old orchard. He wasn't just a singer anymore; in this moment, he was a man holding a promise. He looked at Maria, who stood a few paces away
"They say we are from different worlds," Fernando said, his voice dropping into that signature gravelly tone. "But they forget that the sky is the same over every roof." He looked at Maria