CHAPTER 35
THE LAST NIGHT
Barbara
Night falls over Ukulhas. The sky darkens little by little, almost without us noticing, as if someone had dimmed the light of the entire world.
Now the full moon rises majestically over the sea, reflecting on the calm surface to form a path of liquid silver that invites you to lose yourself in it.
I walk alongside Lidia back to the bungalows, and every step I take weighs on my legs.
I’m not physically tired; it’s emotional—that tight knot squeezing my heart and keeping me from breathing normally.
The air is warm, thick, and humid, heavy with the pungent scent of sea salt mixed with the sweet, heady aroma of the flowers lining the path.
The streetlights along the path cast a dim, yellowish glow that draws dancing shadows across the white sand.
The constant sound of the sea—rhythmic, deep, and eternal—seems to mark the beat of something that is about to end forever.
Because I know it. I feel it in every cell of my body, in every rapid beat of my heart.
Tonight is the last night Lidia and I will spend together.
Not because I want it, but because I can no longer sustain this lie for even a second longer.
“It’s wonderful to see my father and Mirian so happy, isn’t it?” Lidia asks suddenly, breaking the silence that surrounds us.
“Yes…” I murmur, gazing up at the stars. “They remind me of us years ago, when we were just a few days away from getting married…”
“I almost ate the florist, I remember.”
Her laughter lights up my world for a moment.
After the morning I’ve put her through, all my evasions, her insistent glances…
her laughter is like a gust of fresh air in the middle of the desert.
I just smile, squeezing her hand a little tighter.
I’m exhausted—so exhausted that I feel like I’ve lost my energy, my desire, my happiness along the way.
Silence returns. The sea roars softly, and I can only sigh, feeling the air escape from my lungs. My heart aches so much that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to heal from these wounds.
“I know you told me you’re fine, that I have nothing to worry about, but…” Lidia whispers, moving a little closer to me. “You can’t hide whatever’s going on from me, Barbara. Because I’m not just anyone—I know you well, and you know it.”
“Of course I know…” I reply to myself before opening my mouth.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye as we continue walking slowly, and I see the worry in her eyes. It’s been there all day, especially after my phone conversation with Ingrid. I’ve never been able to hide what I feel, and the situation is getting the better of me.
“It’s just work stuff, I told you before…” I reply, stroking the back of her hand so she won’t worry. Although to me it sounds hollow, false, and lifeless, as if my words had lost their meaning the moment they left my mouth.
She stops suddenly in the middle of the path, causing me to come to a screeching halt, my heart pounding hard against my ribs.
“No,” she says firmly, turning toward me until we’re face to face.
“You’re not okay. I can tell. And yes, you can make me believe that nothing’s wrong, but it’s not true.
Can you tell me what’s wrong with you, Barbara?
What are you afraid of?” she adds, raising her voice slightly without actually shouting, but with an intensity that makes me feel small.
“You’ve been like this all day! You’re hiding something from me, and I can’t go on like this… ”
The blow is sharp, precise, and absolutely deserved.
I feel my stomach clench as if I’d been punched, and everything I’ve been desperately avoiding for hours, for days, suddenly washes over me like a giant wave.
For a moment, I’m on the verge of telling her everything, of letting it all out, of stopping the lies once and for all and releasing this burden that’s killing me inside.
But then fear sets in—that overwhelming, paralyzing fear of losing her forever, of watching that special, brilliant light in her eyes disappear when she looks at me.
The fear of breaking what we’ve rebuilt, of breaking us both in a way that can’t be fixed.
“Lidia…” I begin in a low voice, almost a whisper lost amid the constant murmur of the waves. “I…”
But I don’t know how to continue. I can’t find the right words because there’s no nice or gentle way to tell the truth; there’s no way to say it without causing pain. She waits in silence, her arms crossed over her chest.
“If there’s one thing that really bothers me in this life,” she adds more slowly, measuring each syllable carefully, “it’s feeling like people take me for a fool, Barbara.”
I press my lips together so hard they almost hurt.
“It’s not that…” I murmur, though I know it sounds weak and unconvincing.
“Then tell me what it is,” she insists, without looking away for a second, with that determination that has always made me fall in love with her and terrified me at the same time.
Silence falls between us once more. The sea continues to sound in the distance, the night breeze gently ruffles her hair, the night marches on relentlessly.
And I… I still can’t bring myself to speak.
Saying it now, here, in this fragile, emotionally charged moment, would ruin everything: the wedding, the relative calm we’ve managed to find these past few days on the island, this small, intimate space where we’ve found each other again after so long apart.
And yes, it’s selfish of me, I know that perfectly well, but I can’t.
I take a step toward her, my heart racing, closing the distance between us.
“Hey…” I whisper hoarsely. I raise my hand slowly and stroke her arm with the back of my fingers, feeling her warmth burning my skin. “I don’t want to argue with you tonight,” I murmur, almost voiceless, my throat tight.
“Well, stop giving me reasons, damn it,” she replies, without moving an inch, her eyes still locked on mine.
Her eyes demand answers I can’t give her, and I… give in. But not the way I should. I give in by using what has always worked between us—the only thing that can transform this dangerous, tension-filled moment into something sweeter and unforgettable.
I pull her toward me slowly, and my hands seek out her waist possessively. Her body reacts instantly—it always does—as if it were programmed to recognize me even when everything else is falling apart around us.
“Barbara…” she begins, a clear warning in her voice.
But I don’t let her finish. Because my mouth is already on hers, hungry, and the kiss is neither gentle nor slow nor tender.
It’s urgent, desperate, almost frantic, as if in that contact I could hide everything I’m unable to tell her with words.
As if kissing her were much easier than looking her in the eyes and confessing the truth I’ve been keeping inside for days.
Lidia responds with the same intensity—of course she does.
Her hands slide up my back, clinging to my clothes and pulling me closer to her body, pressing us together until there isn’t a single centimeter of air between us.
And in a matter of seconds, the tension shifts, transforming into something electric and fiery.
The anger dissolves like salt in seawater, the emotional distance vanishes, and it’s just the two of us.
Breathing against each other, remembering every caress we’ve shared in the past, desiring each other with that wild intensity that has always united us and destroyed us at the same time.
“You always do the same thing…” she murmurs against my lips, without pulling away completely, her voice hoarse and broken with desire. “When you don’t want to talk, you resort to this to shut me up.”
“I don’t want to lose you…” I confess in a whisper I barely recognize as my own, a whisper laden with fear, need, and a love that hurts my soul.
And I’m not lying. Even if it’s not the whole truth that Lidia deserves.
“You’re not going to lose me…”
Her words sound like a promise, and that breaks me inside. Because she knows nothing of what’s coming. Because she can’t know yet. Because I’m the one who’s about to blow it all up, irrevocably and with no turning back.
I kiss her again, but this time more carefully, as if I want to memorize her in detail: the soft, warm touch of her skin beneath my fingers, the sweet, familiar taste of her mouth, the way her breath catches and quickens when my tongue brushes hers hungrily.
I know this might be the last time I kiss her like this, that I feel her like this.
It might be that tonight is a goodbye disguised as desire and love, a love that now burns on my skin.
We reach the bungalow almost without realizing it, amid kisses that grow deeper and more urgent, amid desperate caresses.
Time slips away from us, and I feel the seconds vanish with every moment her hands touch my body and my heart races.
The door closes and the whole world is left outside, far from us.
The dim light inside envelops us. Only the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminates the space with golden hues, making everything seem more intimate, more ours, more secret and forbidden.
Lidia pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, her lips swollen and glossy from my kisses.
“You still haven’t told me what’s going on…” she whispers, with tenderness, concern, and desire.
And there it is again. The opportunity. The last one, perhaps. But I gently shake my head and rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes for a moment to feel her more and lose myself in her scent.
“Right now… I just want to be with you, Lidia. That’s all,” I reply, and my voice sounds hoarse, heavy with everything that’s burning inside me.