Seychelles
Dante
I barely slept all night. The fear of almost losing her again kept me awake for hours. I still can’t quite believe she’s here, that she came back to me.
She’s still asleep, and I can’t stop looking at her, admiring both her beauty and her strength.
No, that’s not true.
It’s her strength that amazes me most.
She survived betrayal, the partial loss of her identity, of her life, and yet she’s still here. Still standing. Her determination remains intact. That ability she has to take problems head-on and face them without flinching.
It’s both wonderful and terrifying.
Because I’m beginning to understand the depth of the trust she places in me.
Now it’s my turn to be worthy of it.
Seized by a sudden impulse, I decide to take her away from here for a few days.
I carefully get out of bed and leave the bedroom to make a phone call from the living room.
Andrea answers on the second ring.
“I’m leaving for a week with Valeria. Maybe longer. I need you to keep an eye on Bianca and Aurenza while I’m gone.”
Silence.
“Alright. I’ll handle everything. Where are you going?”
“The Seychelles.”
He lets out a low whistle.
“You’re right. The next few months are going to be hell.”
“Exactly.”
Between Wald, Bianca, and the baby, the months ahead threaten to crush us. Before the storm hits, I want to give us what we need most: time.
When I tell Valeria about the trip, she protests exactly as expected—work, responsibilities, bad timing.
I let her finish.
Then I make my point.
“There’s never going to be a perfect moment. If we don’t make our relationship a priority, nobody else will do it for us.”
She doesn’t answer right away. But I see it in her eyes—she understands.
The late afternoon sunlight turns the runway gold as our plane lands in Praslin. Deep green hills, white sand, water so clear it looks unreal. Our villa overlooks the ocean, hidden among lush vegetation and connected to a private beach by a pale stone path.
The moment she steps out of the car, Valeria stops.
Her expression softens.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
After dropping off our luggage, we walk down to the beach and stroll along the shoreline. The temperature is perfect, but although Valeria lets the water brush her feet, she never goes farther than that.
That evening, we have dinner on the beach beneath colorful lanterns. Shredded shark mixed with lemon, onions, and spices. Octopus curry. Grilled fish. Fresh fruit for dessert. Valeria picks up a slice of mango, savoring it slowly before asking hesitantly:
“Are you happy about becoming a father?”
The question catches me off guard, but I know how much courage it took for her to ask it.
I could downplay it to ease her pain, but she deserves better than that.
My wife is a fighter. The bravest and most extraordinary woman I know. The fact that she is here beside me, after everything she has been through, says everything about her strength.
So I take my time choosing my words, determined to give her the truth she deserves.
“I’m still in shock. None of this feels real yet. Part of me is terrified. I keep thinking about how complicated this is going to make things for us, and whether I’ll even be good enough.”
I pause.
“But… part of me is happy. Maybe even a little excited.”
I brush my thumb against her cheek.
“I just wish it were with you.”
She smiles bravely, but her lips tremble, and a crushing weight settles in my chest.
Her pain echoes my own.
I think about the life we were supposed to have.
Between the moment she disappeared and the day she came back, an entire future slipped away.
And neither of us will ever get those years back.
We don’t linger there long.
Back in our room, I undress slowly without taking my eyes off her. She watches me hungrily. Then she begins undressing too—and suddenly, a reckless idea crosses my mind.
Instead of waiting for her, I turn on the shower and step beneath the spray.
Water cascades over me from head to toe.
She watches me. She knows I won’t force anything.
I soap myself slowly without ever looking away from her, not neglecting a single inch of skin. Her lips part. Her breathing quickens.
Time stretches.
I almost give up—right as she takes a step forward.
Then another.
And another.
My pulse kicks hard. My hands shake despite the heat of the water.
Droplets begin splashing against her face, but her eyes never leave mine. Slowly rising onto her toes, she places her palms against my chest and brings her mouth to mine.
A tear slides down my cheek as our breaths mingle beneath the water.
*
The first few days pass in an almost unreal softness. Every day, she ventures a little farther into the clear turquoise water. First up to her knees, then her waist. By the third day, she swims—hesitantly, but she swims.
Watching her swim toward me feels absurdly emotional. I’ve never been prouder of her.
That night, lying in bed after making love, I finally ask the question I’ve been holding back for days.
“What was the hardest part for you?”
She curls against me. I regret asking immediately. The room falls quiet for a long time.
Then:
“The pain was unbearable sometimes… there were days I even thought…”
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to. My arms tighten around her.
“Is it less intense now?”
My voice comes out rough, almost unrecognizable.
“Yes. The episodes are farther apart now. The pain is much more manageable, and I’m getting better at anticipating them.”
“I’m sorry, Valeria. I should’ve kept looking for you. I should’ve been there.”
She presses two fingers gently against my lips.
“No. Don’t let guilt consume you. I’m here now. What matters is what we build together from this point on.”
In the darkness, she curls closer against me. But even after she falls asleep, her hand remains clenched tightly in the bedsheet.
Even now, she still doesn’t feel safe.
Throughout the trip, our phones remain off. We check them once a day for emergencies only. Bianca’s calls keep piling up.
I don’t listen to a single voicemail.
The world can wait.
On the fifth day, we spend the afternoon resting in the dim light filtering through half-closed shutters, golden streaks spilling across the bed.
“When we get back,” I tell her, “I want us to start looking at houses together. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms every night.”
She starts to protest. I cut her off.
“We’ll reinforce security. You can even have your team inspect every place if you want. But I want us to start living.”
She nods, then adds quietly:
“I want that too. But I think it would be wiser if I didn’t go back to Aurenza.”
I look at her in surprise.
“You’d walk away from your work?”
“I’d keep working. Just somewhere else,” she replies lightly, though I don’t miss what’s underneath. “Now that Bianca is pregnant, having both of us there will become unbearable. I don’t want that kind of daily war.”
I understand her reasoning. But I refuse to let her abandon everything she built.
“Give me a month. I’ll find a solution. If I have to, I’ll open new offices on the other side of the city—and we’ll move there together.”
*
On New Year’s Eve, we watch the fireworks wrapped in each other’s arms.
I whisper against her ear:
“May every separation always lead me back to you.”
She closes her eyes, then murmurs against my lips:
“May every wound make us stronger.”
We stay in bed while the sun climbs high above the ocean. Valeria lies on her stomach, gazing out at the sea while my finger traces the curve of her skin.
“We’re going home tomorrow,” I say softly.
“I know.”
She moves closer and rests her head against me. We stay there without speaking, letting this fragile pause carry us a little longer.
Before the world catches up with us.