CHAPTER 33
THE MAGIC OF LOVE
Lidia
There are moments that seem insignificant…
until you’re living them. They go unnoticed until they’re right in front of you, and you realize that unforgettable things don’t have to be grand.
Sometimes, what stays etched in your memory is just that—a moment you share with the people you love, an instant filled with love, affection, and happiness.
Barbara and I walk together toward the little boutique where Miriam and my father have decided to do the final fitting for what they’ll wear on their wedding day.
The afternoon air is still warm, though it doesn’t feel as heavy as it did at midday.
A light breeze rustles the palm trees and makes everything seem more alive and vivid.
Or maybe it’s just me who feels more alive than ever.
These past few days I’ve felt whole again, as if all those pieces I lost after finalizing my divorce from Barbara had come back and fallen into place.
I feel immensely happy, relaxed, confident, filled with a gentle energy that flows through my skin until it makes my heart swell.
After the morning we spent together, the laughter and the glances we shared, I have the feeling that everything has finally fallen into place between us.
As if this place, this moment, and this version of us were the right ones.
Even though a part of me remains uneasy.
Because I know her, and I know that Barbara is hiding something.
Barbara isn’t well. Her smile, though still magical, is shadowed. There are moments when she gets lost in her thoughts, as if she were somewhere else, in another time, in another reality that isn’t the one we share.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask her, unable to hold back.
She looks at me, blinks for a second, and then smiles softly.
“That you’re almost ready to become an expert wedding planner,” she replies in a light tone, though her eyes tell a different story.
I let out a brief, sincere laugh.
“Don’t believe it. I’m two steps away from a nervous breakdown.”
“That’s a lie,” she says, shaking her head tenderly. “You love it. I can see it on your face.”
“A little bit, yes,” I admit, shrugging as I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.
We look at each other. And for a second… everything is easy again, natural, just like in the beginning. But it only lasts a second.
We step into the boutique and the temperature difference hits us.
Inside, the air conditioning keeps the place cool—too cool after the heat outside, but a welcome relief on the skin.
The walls are decorated with light, airy fabrics, and several mannequins display linen outfits in shades of sand and white. Simple. Elegant. Perfect for them.
“You’re here!” Miriam exclaims, appearing from the back with a nervous but radiant smile.
“Right on time,” my father adds, holding her hand with that tenderness you only have when you’re truly in love.
I look at them and can’t help but smile. Because they’re happy. Because you can see it in every gesture, in every glance. And that, quite simply, is beautiful. Very beautiful.
“Well, girls, are you ready?” my father asks, looking at the two of us with that mix of excitement and paternal pride.
“You know we are,” Barbara replies before I can open my mouth. “At this rate, you’re going to leave your daughter with no nails left to bite.”
I lower my gaze, caught red-handed, and feel the blush rise again.
“Hey…” I try to protest.
But I can’t finish the sentence. Because her hand suddenly appears and gently strokes my back, making my body tremble and my skin prickle.
“You always do that when you’re climbing the walls. I know you.”
“It’s your fault,” I reply, pointing at my father with a playful gesture. “You make me nervous without even trying.”
“And on top of that, I’m getting married…” he protests, feigning indignation.
Miriam lets out a bright, infectious laugh, and before we know it, we’re all laughing. It’s a light, familiar moment, one of those that don’t weigh us down, that don’t hurt, and that don’t carry the weight of the past. They simply exist, filling the air with warmth.
“Come on,” Miriam says, still laughing. “Let’s try this on before I regret the whole thing.”
“You still have time,” I joke, winking at her.
“No way,” she replies firmly, taking my father’s hand.
They walk off toward the dressing rooms, and the silence that remains between Barbara and me is different.
More intimate. More direct. I sink into one of the plush armchairs by the wall.
She does the same, sitting down next to me.
For a moment, we say nothing. We just exist. We breathe the same air, share the same space.
“Do you remember?” I say suddenly, without looking directly at her, my voice a little lower. “When we tried on the dresses.”
I feel her tense slightly beside me, as if the memory had touched something deep inside her.
“Yes…”
I turn my head and look at her intently.
“You were unbearable,” I tell her, though my tone is full of affection.
She raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes,” I insist, letting out a soft laugh. “You didn’t like the rhinestones on my dress, or on yours either. You even criticized the dress of the girl in the fitting room next door… You just wouldn’t stop.”
“It was a disaster,” she murmurs, though her lips are already starting to curve into a smile.
“No,” I say, laughing harder. “You were on the verge of an anxiety attack and needed to control every detail, as always.”
Her expression changes. It softens little by little, as if my words were melting something inside her.
“I’ve always been like that,” she admits with a light, almost resigned sigh.
“I know,” I reply, and my voice comes out almost sickly sweet. “But even so… it was one of the most beautiful days of my life.”
I look her straight in the eyes. I don’t regret saying it because it’s true. Because, even with everything that happened afterward, that doesn’t change the fact that my moments with her still shine in my memory as something pure, untouched.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a second I see worry in them. A shadow that hides the loving glow they held just a few days ago.
I want to ask her about it, but her phone rings again, and when she looks at the screen, Ingrid’s name flashes on it once more.
“Your coworker is persistent, isn’t she?” I remark, letting out a sigh. “And you’re on vacation…”
I say it without malice, without thinking too much about it.
Just as a lighthearted observation. But Barbara’s reaction isn’t normal.
She suddenly turns pale, as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.
The color drains from her cheeks in an instant, and she stands up too quickly, awkwardly.
“I’ll go see what she wants… I’ll be right back,” she says in a tense voice, without looking me in the eye.
I don’t have time to answer. I don’t have time to ask anything.
Barbara hurries toward the door, and I’m left alone in the middle of the boutique.
I’d like to believe that everything is fine, but as the minutes pass, the constant feeling that something isn’t right grows and expands until it creates a knot in my stomach.
I get up from my seat and start walking around the store, running my fingers along the dresses hanging on either side.
Every so often, I glance toward the door.
I’m afraid—afraid that after opening my heart again, I’ll end up heartbroken once more.
It’s not that I don’t trust Barbara; I do.
But we’ve been through something like this before, and things didn’t turn out well.
“What’s going on this time, Barbara…?”
Her reflection in the window, her gestures; Barbara is upset, and what was once just a silly hunch, a vague feeling, isn’t anymore.
It’s something that’s starting to take shape, taking on clear contours, and for the first time in many days, it threatens to burst the bubble we’ve been living in.
That bubble I thought was enough for both of us. But maybe… it never was.
I stand there, my heart racing as the cool air from the boutique brushes against my skin.
I think of all the times I’ve caught her lost in her thoughts, of all those moments when her smile didn’t shine as brightly as it has these past few days.
I wonder how long I’ve been ignoring the signs, how long I believed this magic would last. It was obvious that things weren’t going to be easy just because we wanted them to be, just because we kissed and let ourselves be swept away by our emotions and desires.
Without meaning to, the memory of the stormy night surfaces in my mind and steals my breath away.
It should never have happened; I shouldn’t have thrown myself at her mouth with such desperation…
But it was impossible for me to stop it—to stop that fire from awakening inside me and burning everything around it.
It was like asking the sea to stop moving.
I feel a lump in my throat and tears stinging my eyes.
I want to go to her, ask her directly what’s going on, hug her, and tell her I’m here—that whatever it is, we’ll face it together.
But something holds me back. Fear, perhaps.
The fear that the answer won’t be the one I want to hear.
The fear that this trust I’ve worked so hard to rebuild will shatter, and we’ll both go back to being what we were before: two strangers.
I sit back down in the armchair, cross my legs, and look toward the dressing rooms where Miriam and my father are still trying on outfits.
I hear their laughter, and a pang of healthy envy pierces me.
They do seem sure of themselves. They do seem to be in the same place, at the same time. Why aren’t we?
Barbara is taking longer than expected. The boutique’s clock ticks away the minutes so slowly it makes my nerves fray. I try to distract myself by flipping through some fashion magazines, imagining situations that will never happen again, no matter how much I wish they would.
When she finally returns, her expression has changed. She tries to smile, but I already know that smile. It’s the one she used whenever she was hiding something serious. She sits next to me again, a little farther away than before, and the space between us feels bigger than it actually is.
“Everything okay?” I ask, trying to make my voice sound casual, even though inside I’m holding my breath.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replies too quickly. “Work stuff. You know.”
I nod, but I don’t quite believe her. Her eyes avoid mine, and in that moment, I feel the unease that’s been growing all day settle a little deeper inside me.
I don’t say anything else. I don’t want to push.
Not here, not now. But I know something is changing.
I know that our little bubble has cracks I didn’t see before, and I wonder if I’ll be able to fix them…
or if I’ll have to learn to live with them.
The air in the boutique is still cool, but I feel an uncomfortable heat.
The heat of doubt. The heat of waiting. As Miriam and my father come out of the dressing rooms laughing and happy, I glance sideways at Barbara and promise myself that I won’t let this slip away just like that.
Because what we have, even if it seems fragile now, is still the most important thing I have.
And I’m willing to fight to understand it, to keep it, to piece it back together again.