CHAPTER 8
GHOSTS OF THE PAST
Lidia
If someone had asked me this morning how I imagined my first day in Ukulhas, I would have answered that I’d be by the sea, immersed in wedding preparations, yes, but enjoying the atmosphere to the fullest. What I never would have anticipated was ending up exhausted and aching in every single muscle of my body.
From the very moment I set foot on the island, Miriam and my father decided to fill every minute with their presence.
We started with breakfast on a terrace overlooking the sea, and then we took a leisurely stroll along the beach, during which Miriam took the opportunity to explain in great detail where the ceremony would take place.
You can feel their enthusiasm, how much they’re looking forward to that day, and, above all, the love they have for each other.
They’re both so excited that they’ve asked me to accompany them this very afternoon to a local boutique to find the clothes they’ll wear that day.
I advised them to go to Malé; everything is very different there, and they’d surely find what they’re looking for, but neither of them felt like taking the ferry.
After the walk, lunch arrived, followed by an endless conversation about flowers, music, and lights.
By then, my mind could no longer tell hibiscus from bougainvillea or orchids; everything blended into a whirlwind of vibrant colors and sweet scents that overwhelmed my brain.
I needed to take a long nap, to recover the energy I’d lost on the trip, but neither of them took that into account.
Now, I find myself sitting at the beach bar by the resort’s pool, my bare feet resting on the wooden floor that still retains the day’s warmth, a cold drink in my hands.
The sky has already turned a deep, mysterious blue—not quite black, but that special shade that appears just after sunset, when the air still holds the heat accumulated during the sunny hours.
The pool reflects the lights surrounding the bar, and the water looks like a sheet of dark, liquid glass inviting you to lose yourself in its depths.
I take a slow sip of my “Maldivian Sunset” cocktail, and its sweet yet tangy flavor, a blend of mango, passion fruit, lime, and coconut, fills my mouth and awakens my senses.
I close my eyes for a brief moment and let everything happening around me envelop me. This is exactly the kind of moment I’d dreamed of when I agreed to come here: absolute tranquility, silence, and that peace only the sea can offer.
“I hope you’re enjoying it,” the waiter says with a smile.
“It’s delicious,” I reply gratefully. “I’ll take the glass and go for a walk along the shore. May I?”
“As you wish.”
It takes me a couple of minutes to find the exit, but all of that stops mattering when I reach the resort’s entrance through a side path and come across a woman walking behind one of the hotel employees.
I don’t pay much attention to her at first, but something about the way she walks seems so familiar that it makes me frown in surprise.
“It can’t be…” I whisper, almost to myself, the cold, icy glass between my fingers.
It takes my mind several long seconds to process what’s happening. A blink later, the information I’m looking for crashes into my brain: “Barbara. Here. In Ukulhas.” My heart pounds against my chest, and I laugh at myself for being so stupid.
“The heat, the exhaustion, and the cocktail are playing a cruel, nasty joke on me…” I tell myself, running a hand over my forehead. “I’d better keep walking and get to the beach. A little water will do me good.”
However, when the lights in the foyer hit her face full-on and she brushes her hair back with that familiar gesture, there’s not a trace of doubt left. “It can’t be…” I feel the air grow thicker, and at the same time, the memories I share with her suddenly come flooding back.
The first day I met her, I was lost and just as tired as I am now.
She seemed like she’d been there forever, because it only took her a couple of sentences to get the waiter to bring me some water.
She was wearing a beautiful white dress that floated with every step she took, and she had a smile that captivated me and made me forget everything.
Days later, we kissed with the sea as our only witness; hours after that, we slept together.
And with that first orgasm, I knew I’d just found something I’d never searched for, but desperately needed.
I snap back to the present, and Barbara is still right where she was seconds ago. My first impulse is to go find my father and ask him if he’s been stupid enough to invite her to his wedding. But I can’t move a single inch, and I remain frozen where I am, unable to take my eyes off her.
Barbara looks exhausted. She’s pale, her eyes are rimmed with dark circles, and she barely pays attention to her surroundings; she’s just waiting for the receptionist to take care of everything she needs and hand her the key to her bungalow.
“Come on… I’m sure she has no idea you’re here,” I tell myself, trying to calm down a little.
But all that does is make my pulse race even faster and a knot form in my stomach. Because if she doesn’t know I’m here, then this reunion is nothing more than a trap set by my father.
I take another sip of my cocktail, and for several seconds I keep my eyes fixed on her.
I could stay right where I am, still and silent.
Pretend I haven’t recognized her. Go back to my bungalow, lock the door, and wait until the next morning to face whatever comes.
That would be the reasonable thing to do, the most mature and sensible choice, but I can’t be sensible at a moment like this.
So I set my glass down somewhere and start walking. I don’t have any specific plan. Nor do I have a speech prepared. I don’t even know what I’m going to say when I’m face-to-face with her, but I can’t just turn around and carry on as if nothing had happened.
“Barbara!” I shout from a distance, and she, startled to hear her name, takes a few seconds to turn around and focus her full attention on me.
There’s something magical about silence, something that only happens in moments that mark your life forever; her eyes widen in surprise, she turns pale as if she’d seen a ghost, and she looks me up and down as if I were a dream born from the exhaustion she seems to be carrying on her shoulders.
We look at each other in silence. And then, almost simultaneously, we smile.
It’s not a smile full of joy—no, it’s one of those ironic smiles that emerge when you grasp a truth that’s all too obvious and leaves you with no possible escape.
No one but my father is to blame for this reunion, and everything suddenly falls into place.
He’s set us up… and even though I love him dearly, he has no idea what a crazy thing he’s done.