4 An Unexpected Ambush
The wind would occasionally lift the silk curtains that partially covered the wooden shutters in front of the bed. An intrusive scent of rain seeped right under the sheets, making the shadows dance in the hushed room.
When I opened my eyes, I didn’t immediately realize where I was, and the state of bliss in which I was unconsciously reveling didn’t make me worry about it.
I stretched, extending my feet to the edge of the bed, and slipped my arms under the cool satin pillow.
As I was trying to remember something from the previous evening, your voice rang out from the beach: “Honey, hurry and see who’s come to visit us! Try to hurry, but don’t make a sound.”
I jumped out of bed, grabbed the first piece of clothing I could get my hands on, and hurried out of the room wearing one of your T-shirts on backwards.
Your silhouette stood out against the shore, and something indistinct was floating behind you.
I slowed my pace and peered carefully at the water’s surface.
I felt like I was being watched and froze when I saw a small family of cuttlefish with big green eyes—two magnificent adults and two young ones.
You had a look of pure delight as you showed me these unique visitors, and I nearly fainted with excitement.
Looking into your eyes, I felt my face flush as I recalled perfectly what had happened the night before.
I approached you, trying not to let you sense the immense embarrassment I was feeling, and I said good morning and gave you a quick kiss.
You didn’t notice my state of mind and hugged me joyfully.
I realized I was really hungry and suggested we go get breakfast.
We dressed casually; I wanted to keep your T-shirt—it was a strange way to still feel embraced by you.
Shortly after, we arrived at the café, but my hunger seemed to have vanished.
I should have eaten something to avoid giving you a reason to ask me questions—something I wanted to put off for as long as possible.
So I forced myself to choose a fresh papaya and some toast from the menu, while you ordered a coffee with some coconut cookies.
After finishing our frugal breakfast, we looked around: the resort seemed deserted, probably because of the cloudy sky.
I didn’t feel like going on any organized tours, even though the destinations chosen by the management were truly very picturesque.
But perhaps there was one that was just right for us: we could spend a few pleasant hours snorkeling.
Half an hour later, we were already aboard the motorboat equipped for snorkeling, and shortly after, we dove off the outer edge of the coral reef, equipped with masks and fins.
I looked down and felt almost dizzy: the depth in that stretch of ocean was staggering; it was as if I were standing atop a twenty-story skyscraper.
They had taken us to an area rich in plankton and, as a result, teeming with fish of considerable size.
I glanced at you out of the corner of my eye, crossing my fingers behind my back, thinking back to the close encounter with the shark we’d had earlier.
We followed the guide for a long stretch of sea, entranced by the sight of fish in a thousand colors swimming fearlessly past us.
At one point, the guide invited us to watch as she dove down to reach an anemone inhabited by a clownfish surrounded by its young.
I was surprised by the size of this fish with its distinctive white and orange markings.
The first time I’d seen one was while watching Disney’s The Little Mermaid; it had seemed much smaller than the one that was now swimming blissfully in the middle of the sea anemone without suffering any harm.
We continued swimming through Neptune’s Kingdom, captivated by the colors of the coral: black, yellow, white, pink, and striped—but there wasn’t a trace of red.
As we swam past a triggerfish’s lair, we had to pick up the pace considerably to escape its teeth; it was angry because we’d dared to disturb its peace and that of its young, who were evidently inside the small opening in the rock.
Once the danger had passed, the guide invited us to look down below us; I did so somewhat hesitantly—I was afraid of feeling dizzy again—but what I saw dispelled all my fears.
I grabbed your hand in excitement, and together we admired two sea turtles submerged many meters below.
These notoriously shy animals hurried to hide among the rocks as soon as they noticed us.
We hurried to catch up with the instructor, who had moved ahead in the meantime, followed by our other companions, chattering like ducklings seeking attention from their mother duck.
We had almost rejoined the group when I heard a rustling sound to my left: a stingray over a meter long had silently surfaced beside me, effectively separating me from you.
The cetacean was intent on following its own course and paid us no mind, continuing to swim just below the surface.
We didn’t think twice about accompanying it on its journey, and the big fish put up with us for a good half-hour before diving back down.
We reluctantly bid it farewell with a kiss on the water’s surface, knowing we would never forget it.
We saw other fish in unlikely colors, but nothing could surprise us anymore after our close encounter mid-morning.
We returned to the island tired but happy; after swimming for hours, it felt strange to set foot on land again.
I turned toward the sea with the distinct feeling that I’d left my mermaid tail well hidden among the rocks.
When I dived into the water, I felt completely in my element, as if Mother Earth were wrapping me in her soft womb to protect me from life’s hardships.
It wasn’t time for lunch yet, so we took the opportunity to bask in the sun, roll around in the sand like children, and compete to see who could find the prettiest seashell.
As usual, I’d found a gorgeous one, but I hurried to toss it back into the water, hoping that you’d be the one to find the most beautiful one.
I didn’t have to wait long to see you beaming as you showed me a huge, bright dark-red shell.
My surprise immediately turned to terror, but I managed to keep my cool as I urged you to gently set it back on the ground.
Without batting an eye, you did as I suggested, looking at me with a somewhat questioning expression.
I hurried to explain that this type of shell had a creature inside it with poisonous spines from which it emitted a spray that was lethal to humans.
Recalling what I’d been told as soon as I arrived in Malé, I explained that in the Maldivian paradise there was a rule stating that it was best not to touch animals, as they might feel threatened and react accordingly.
We returned to our bungalow for a quick shower before treating ourselves to a hearty meal.
It was especially important to rinse our ears with fresh water after swimming in that sea, due to the high density of plankton in the water, which could cause annoying and painful ear infections.
We were too tired to go eat grilled fish on Sunrise Island—we wouldn’t have been able to paddle for at least a quarter of an hour—so we settled for the restaurant from which we could admire the two deserted islands.
The swim had worked up our appetites, and we both agreed to the chefs’ suggestion.
Before long, our plates were filled with fragrant grilled meat accompanied by basmati rice—one of my great passions.
After that hearty meal, I had the idea of walking around the island to help with digestion; we’d take the opportunity to see the other side of the island—more wild and picturesque, populated mainly by chameleons.
We got ready as if we were setting off on a trip around the world; our backpacks were stuffed to bursting: small bottles of water so we wouldn’t die of dehydration, cameras to capture the last moments of our lives, towels to wipe away the sweat from the journey’s exertion, hats to avoid sunstroke,
and sunglasses so we could look the sun in the face one last time.
We left the bungalow with determination, making sure to leave the keys inside a niche outside the door.
It seemed strange for an ordinary Westerner to leave such an opportunity to enter other people’s apartments in plain sight, but a single reminder from the resort staff had been enough.
In fact, it was necessary to leave the keys accessible for the staff who had to spray mosquito repellent, make the beds, and change the towels several times a day.
As we walked along the shore, you asked me point-blank, “Do you love me?”
I wasn’t expecting that question; I took it for granted that I loved you, and I found it hard to believe that I wasn’t showing it to you in a thousand ways. I realized, however, that I was overthinking things and that your question was more than legitimate.
I understood that at that very moment you needed me to say it clearly: “Of course I love you,” I replied, running a finger over my lips and resting it on yours.
If it were up to me, if I could always follow my instincts, I could have told you that in a thousand ways, but sometimes I was at a loss for words because your eyes enchanted me and left me speechless.
We continued toward the uninhabited part of the island where the palm trees leaned down until they brushed the water, forming natural suspension bridges pointing toward the horizon.
I was suddenly overcome by a wild urge to do something unexpected—even for me: I set everything down on the ground and ran toward a bent palm tree, climbed up, and made my way almost to the very tip, where a few green coconuts hung.
Having conquered my imaginary drawbridge, I turned around and motioned for you to join me.
I’d once seen a postcard with a picture of two people sitting atop a palm tree trunk, with the sunset framing their eternal love.
It was like stepping into that image and becoming the protagonists of a fairy tale with a happy ending—or rather, with no ending at all, because beautiful things never end.
Once the magical moment had faded, we were faced with the problem of having to climb down from that imaginary bridge that seemed to lead to Neverland.