Zayn and I hardly leave the hotel for the first few days of our trip. It's like we're two rabbits in heat. Each time we try to be productive we find ourselves tangled in between the sheets again. I'm itching to go sightseeing in the city, but Zayn always finds a way to distract me. My father wasn't lying when he said Zayn was a charmer.

"Babe," I call out as I exit the washroom and walk into the living room. "I was thinking we could go out tonight. I read online that there's going to be a showing of Phantom of the Opera at 7pm in the Arena di Verona. We can see that. "

"Yeah, yeah sure later. Right now I'm busy finalizing the details of the contract," Zayn brushes me off as he types away on his computer.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and settle for a sigh instead. "Okay, well I'm going to do a little exploring, so I'll meet you back here at 6pm, and we'll go to the arena together," I tell him. "Order our tickets please."

"Yeah, you go ahead and do that, and I'll order the tickets. See you later, Sof," Zayn replies, his eyes never leaving the screen of his computer.

Still, I press a kiss to his cheek and grab my purse before heading out the door. I fish for the tourist pamphlet I took from the front desk downstairs in my purse and flip through it. Verona is a place rich in history, but I decide visiting Shakespeare's balcony for Romeo and Juliet wouldn't be a terrible location to start. I place the pamphlet inside my notebook when I'm done with it and scurry down the entrance steps of the hotel.

I pass by a flea market on the street on my way to the balcony and make a note to pick up some food for me and Zayn when I return. I read in the pamphlet that Shakespeare's balcony is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Verona because people go there to write letters to Juliet. Thankfully, it isn't a hassle to get there.

I take in everything around me with amazement. I see women--and quite a few men too--of all different ages scattered around the courtyard with a pen and paper clutched in their hands. On the balcony, a woman who looks like she's in her early twenties is reciting lines from the play Romeo and Juliet in Italian. My vision shifts just below the balcony, and I notice handwritten letters decorate the stone wall, reminding me of the post-it notes at the Union Square station in New York.

As I approach the wall, I see a distraught young woman post her letter while tears stream down her cheeks. The sight causes my heart to ache which prompts me to ask her why she's crying.

She answers me back in Italian. "Il mio ragazzo... ha rotto con me...E-ero innamorata di lui," The young woman pants between cries as she travels down the path I used to get to the courtyard.

I frown, trying to figure out what she just said, but I quickly become distracted by the sight of a woman dressed in a crisp white blouse and knee-length black skirt carrying an open basket. She approaches the wall connected to Shakespeare's balcony while humming softly. I watch the lady peel the letters off the wall one by one with curiosity and place them into her basket. Once the wall is vacant of all letters, she starts walking along the path under the arch to leave the courtyard.

So many questions are running through my mind. Where is she taking their letters? Did these people write expecting a response or simply just to vent? Under the guise of my journalistic instinct, I follow the woman carrying the basket full of letters hoping to find answers.

•

After ten minutes of walking, the woman enters a restaurant called Celeste, and I don't hesitate to follow her inside. She ascends these wooden stairs located in the back of the room and disappears behind a glass door at the top. I survey the room to make sure no one is watching me before I climb the stairs.

I'm careful not to make too much noise as I step over each step. When I reach the top, I grip the door handle and slide the door open. Inside are four women dressed in white blouses and black skirts standing around a large wooden table with the basket of letters in the middle of them. They seem caught off guard by my presence until the one whom I saw carrying the basket speaks up.

"Ha l'ufficio vi mando? Abbiamo aspettavamo di più aiuto," She says while walking over to me.

My brows furrow in confusion at her words before I shake my head. "Non parlo italiano. Parli inglese?" I question.

"Uh yes. My name is Isabella, but call me Bella. The office sent you over to help us, no?" The woman tries her best to speak clearly.

"Oh, no," I answer quickly, "My name's Sofia, and I saw you take those people's letters off the stone wall in the courtyard. I followed you here because I wanted to know why. Is that not the same as taking coins out of a fountain?"

"Well, how else are they to supposed get a response?" She raises her eyebrows.

My eyes widen in realization. "Wait, so all of you write back to them as Juliet?" I inquire.

"Her secretaries," Bella corrects me and looks down at the notebook I'm holding in my hand. "Ah, you're a writer," She states.

I hesitate to agree at first. "Uh, yeah. I am—I'm a writer," I end my statement with more confidence.

Bella flicks her head to the side, beckoning me to join her and the three other secretaries seated at the table. "Come, I show you what we do."

I nod my head as I gingerly shut the door behind me and step further into the room. Before I can open my mouth to say anything, Bella is already introducing me to the other secretaries.

"Onorevoli, questo è Sofia. Lei è uno scrittore americano," She explains to the other women in Italian.

"Nice to meet you all," I chime in. Finding a seat at the round table, I pull back a wooden chair and scoot inwards.

While distributing letters to each of the women, Bella introduces them to me. She begins with the old woman with dyed red hair and granny glasses hanging off her nose.

"This is Donatella. She deals with relationship problems women write to us about," Bella claims.

"You see, men are like a bottle of wine," Donatella says, "they take awhile to mature."

I along with the other ladies in the room giggle at her comment.

"Then Francesca over there," Bella stops to point at the blonde, hazel-eyed woman sitting at the edge of the table, "is a nurse. She deals with letters having to do with illness and loss."

Francesca doesn't do anything except smile at me as she pulls out a letter from the batch she's been assigned. I gladly return it and look at Bella to hear the last woman's name.

She sighs as she says it. "And Maria."

"And Maria," The woman with gray hair mocks Bella. "Why do you always say my name with a sigh?"

Bella doesn't bother answering her and turns to look down at me. "Maria here has six children, twelve grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. She writes to whomever she likes," She tells me.

"What about you?" I ask. "Which letters do you respond to?"

Bella's smile slowly fades as she looks down at the letters in her pile. "The ones that you can barely read," Bella says while pulling a letter out of one of the envelopes. "Heartbreak, failed relationships, unrequited love...someone has to do it."

I can't help but think back to the woman who was crying as she posted her letter on the wall. She looked like she was experiencing the worst heartache of her teenaged life, and I felt bad that I couldn't say anything to console her.

My father always told me when I was younger that we were all placed on this Earth to help each other, but if some weren't able to help out others, their job was not to harm them. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to use my writing to help others and, here, with these women, I saw an opportunity to do just that.

"I want to help," I tell Bella. "In anyway I possibly can."

Her lips curl into a smile at my statement as she reaches into the basket and pulls out a handful of letters. "Start writing Sofia," Bella orders as she places the pile in front of me.

A/N

Hello my beautiful readers. I hope you enjoyed this update. The quote about men being like wine has to be one of my favorite quotes from Letters to Juliet.

Feel free to vote for this chapter if you liked it, comment your thoughts, or follow me on wattpad.

Fun fact about myself: I'm the 2nd oldest in my family. I have one older sister who's 5 years older than me and one younger sister who's just 1 year younger than me. I also have two younger half brothers.

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Kaylandia