CHAPTER 10
THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING
Lidia
My last sentence echoes in my head as I walk along the beach and let my feet sink into the sand.
It’s curious how it retains the day’s warmth even at this late hour, as if the ground refuses to let go of the memory of the sun.
The sea remains absolutely calm, black and immense, moving with the same slowness with which the waves break on the shore.
In the distance, the sky glows with stars that seem much closer to me than in any other corner of the world.
I should be able to enjoy the scenery, but I can’t relax even a little. Not after my reunion with Barbara.
I can’t believe my father has played me like this, that he’s teamed up with fate and is mocking me so cruelly.
I don’t know how long I’ve been mulling this over, but no matter how much I think about it, I still don’t understand why he decided this was the perfect moment to bring Barbara and me together on the same island at the same time.
I clench my fingers around my shoes, let out a sigh, and walk into the sea, where the water brushes my ankles and gives me the calm I need.
“Congratulations, Lidia. You came all the way here looking for some peace, and the first thing you manage to do is lose control.”
My voice sounds strange in the middle of the night.
The air smells intensely of salt and that tropical vegetation swaying gently beyond the beach.
If I closed my eyes right now, I could convince myself I’m in a dream, in paradise, but having Barbara here has turned everything upside down.
And it shouldn’t affect me this much. Years have passed, enough time for my wounds to heal and the memories to stop hurting, but clearly, just looking into her eyes for a few minutes has been enough to stir everything up inside me and make me feel—uncomfortably and painfully—that the years haven’t passed at all.
I’ve had the urge to call Alex. If anyone can get me off this emotional roller coaster in five minutes, it’s her, but it’s five in the morning in Spain and the last thing I want is to worry her.
I’m sure she’s fast asleep, cuddled up with Jota in bed, her phone abandoned on the nightstand, and that look of absolute peace she always has when she’s resting.
If I called her now, she’d tell me to get lost. And she’d deserve to.
Especially after all the times she’s had to pick me up off the floor.
“Come on, Lidia! You don’t need anyone to remind you that the world isn’t going to fall apart just because Barbara is on the same island,” I tell myself, imitating Alex’s voice and tone.
I know that, deep down, our conflicts belong to the past, that they should stay buried there, far from here, far from this wedding.
My father and Miriam deserve a peaceful ceremony, without any unnecessary tension.
After everything he’s been through, he deserves at least a few weeks of pure happiness, and if I have to ignore Barbara to make that happen, I can do it. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.
“I just have to avoid her, not talk to her, and make sure our eyes don’t meet,” I think.
My plan crumbles as quickly as a sandcastle on the shore, because I know perfectly well that avoiding her on an island like this is impossible. Even so, I’m determined to make it work.
“I just have to keep my distance and focus on what’s important.”
I grip my shoes firmly and head toward the path that leads straight to the resort.
The vegetation lining the path sways in the night breeze, and the dim lights marking the route illuminate the sand and the walkways connecting the bungalows.
The resort is almost completely silent, the stillness broken only by the distant murmur of the sea, which seems as though it will never stop.
I walk slowly, and my mind begins to calm down little by little, as if this conversation with myself has managed to bring a little order to the chaos inside me.
When I reach the villa area, I catch the scent of night-blooming flowers in the air, giving off a sweet, enveloping fragrance.
The bungalows are separated by dense tropical gardens and white sand paths.
Each one has its own small private terrace, a gently swaying hammock, and warm lighting that turns them into tiny, cozy havens amid the thick vegetation.
Mine is almost at the end; one of the simplest, with a thatched roof and white walls that reflect the soft light from outside.
I need to take off my clothes, take a shower, and lie down on the bed to rest. But then, the door to the bungalow next door opens, and when I look up, drawn by curiosity, Barbara appears, and time stands still again, as if the entire universe had decided to freeze this moment.
She steps out of her bungalow just as I’m about to enter mine.
We both stand motionless. Her hair looks slightly tousled, as if she’d just stepped out of the shower or had tried to rest without much success.
She’s wearing comfortable, simple clothes—a loose T-shirt and shorts that reveal the tanned skin of her legs—and she’s holding her cell phone in her hand.
Her eyes widen a little more as she recognizes me, and I feel exactly the same thing: that sharp pang in my chest.
For an absurd second, my brain tries to process the scene dispassionately, but as quickly as I try to find some logic in it, my mind takes me on a trip back to the first time we met.
We were also staying in adjoining bungalows, a coincidence that gave us the feeling that fate was mapping out a path we were meant to walk together.
“This can’t be happening again…” I whisper, almost to myself.
The air between us fills once again with that uncomfortable tension that makes my heart pound, forcing me to acknowledge something I don’t like: that the island has just become much smaller and that Barbara’s presence, her proximity, is going to test one of the promises I made to myself right after we got divorced.
Without saying a word, I look away from her eyes and go inside my bungalow, closing the door behind me and cutting off all connection.
I’d love to say that it doesn’t bother me, that I’ll be able to handle this, that her presence is the last thing on my mind, but I know myself well enough to realize that this reunion isn’t going to lead to anything good.