There are days when life takes you by the hand and gently leads you to crash against a rock. And then there are others, rarer and more precious, when it leaves you floating, with your ass in the sun and your heart soaking, like a mozzarella in warm milk in a bucket. Jason, Ellen, and Maria didn't know it yet, but they were entering one of those miraculous days when fate gets drunk, leaves the wheel, and sits in the back seat singing Vasco and his Vita Spericolata. It all began with a bad vacation, or perhaps a mistakenly good one. Ellen, who had wanted mountains and reflection, found herself instead with sand in her bra and a man half philosopher and half sardine offering her chilled prosecco on the terrace. Maria, who as a child dreamed of unicorns and as an adult tore calamari to pieces, found herself entangled in an embrace that reeked of sea and magic. And Jason... well, Jason was like certain tired heroes in sagas: he just wanted to surf and fish in peace, and he found himself swimming in waters deeper than the Adriatic, between two mermaids who instead of singing cracked jokes and loved hard. This isn't a normal story. It's not because none of the three of them are. It's a story of the sea, of nights, of bodies that find each other like shells on the same wave. A story where love, true love, the kind that involves a little sweat and a lot of courage, slips between the sheets and morning coffee, without asking permission. It's a story for those who aren't afraid to fall in love outside of their comfort zone, outside of their script, and even out of season. Because sometimes, when you least expect it... the sea chooses you. And you, if you're lucky, sail into it.
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