CHAPTER 2
THE CALL FROM PARADISE
Lidia
The bell that signals the end of classes at school has always felt liberating to me.
The children rush down the hallway in a crowd bursting with boundless energy.
They laugh with that pure joy only they possess and drag their backpacks along, while I remain seated in my chair for a few minutes, organizing the folders on my desk and slowly putting them into my briefcase.
There are days when that raucous noise reminds me of how exhausted I am.
Today, however, I find it comforting, a gentle balm that wraps around my soul.
Perhaps it’s because the day has passed quietly and without incident.
Or maybe because the sun filtering through the classroom windows already has that warm hue so characteristic of the Valencian spring.
The time of year my mother loved so much.
She used to say that Valencia, in these months leading up to summer, was magical. And it was for me back then. Even though the city remains the same.
“Do you want to meet up for coffee this afternoon?” Marta, one of my best friends and a colleague, asks me from the doorway as she adjusts her bag on her shoulder.
I look up and shake my head with a slight apologetic grimace.
“It’s impossible today,” I reply frankly. “I have to get a few things done before the end of the school year, because otherwise, in June I’ll end up spending more time here than at home, and I can’t afford that.”
She lets out a short, light laugh, full of understanding. We’ve been working together at the same school for three years, with the same kids and the same routines.
“You’re too responsible, Lidia. And sometimes I wonder how you put up with it without letting it wear you down.”
“Someone has to be in this crazy world,” I reply with a smile born of the affection I feel for each of the children who make my job wonderful.
“Yeah, well…” she says, shrugging. “When you get tired of being the responsible adult of the group, let us know and we’ll join the party without a second thought.”
I watch her disappear down the hallway, and then I quietly gather up what’s left of my things, allowing myself to savor this moment of peace slowly settling in around me.
The school empties out in a matter of minutes, as if the entire building were breathing a sigh of relief after the children have left.
When I step out into the courtyard, the breeze carries the scent of damp earth from the flowerpots arranged by the main door, and I take a deep breath, letting the aroma of geraniums fill my lungs.
Valencia has a way of constantly reminding me why I decided to stay here despite all the bad things that have happened to me in recent years. I don’t think I’ll find another place in the world that makes me feel quite so at home.
A couple of hours later, I’m walking along the sidewalk in my neighborhood with Jota, my dog.
He tugs gently on the leash, infecting me with a bit of his energy and vitality.
Jota has that boundless energy typical of puppies; he thinks every walk is a unique and exciting adventure, full of new smells and details only he can appreciate.
“Jota, calm down. Don’t get so close,” I tell him firmly when he tries to get too close to a bicycle leaning against a nearby lamppost.
The dog looks at me with that expression of his, somewhere between innocent and cheeky, wags his tail enthusiastically, and continues walking by my side as if nothing had happened, though I know deep down he’s still dreaming up his next bit of mischief.
The sea isn’t very far from here. Although I can’t see it, I can smell the salt in the air.
It’s always there, mingling with the scent of the neighborhood bars and the constant murmur of people filling the streets with life at this hour.
When we get home, I take off my shoes in the entryway and set the grocery bag—with a few things I picked up on the way—on the kitchen counter, where the colors of the fruit contrast with the pristine white of the cabinets.
Jota runs straight to his water bowl as if he’d crossed an entire desert without tasting a drop, and I can’t help but watch him fondly.
He’s been with me for a year and a half. A birthday gift from Dad. A gift that arrived when I needed it most and felt completely lost. Jota, in short, saved my life.
After a quick shower that refreshes my body and clears my mind, the living room transforms into my little personal sanctuary, that space where I can simply be myself without masks or rushing.
I open my laptop, pull out several folders with school documents, and sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me, ready to focus on what really matters right now.
The clock strikes four o’clock sharp when I get up to grab a beer from the fridge and pour myself a small plate of olives to settle my stomach.
I’m reviewing a detailed list of notes when my phone vibrates insistently on the table.
I frown slightly because I’m not expecting any calls and pick it up out of curiosity.
The screen lights up instantly; my father’s name glows, and I can’t help but smile.
I press the button to accept the video call, and although the image takes a moment to stabilize, within seconds everything around me disappears, and I find myself captivated by a paradise-like beach that looks like something out of a dream—and that I recognize instantly.
A white sand beach so bright it looks like a blanket of diamonds in the sunlight, with an intense turquoise sea that reflects the sky as if it were a liquid mirror full of life.
The wind gently rustles the leaves of palm trees leaning over the crystal-clear water, creating a perfect postcard scene that takes my breath away for a moment.
“The beaches in the Maldives are so beautiful…” I think, and a second later, I snap out of it.
“Come on!” I exclaim affectionately. “Is this a normal call or a full-blown provocation?”
The camera moves awkwardly, and then my father’s face appears in close-up. His white, graying hair sets off his tanned skin, and he flashes a smile so wide and radiant that I immediately sense something good and special is happening in his life.
“Do you like the view I have here?” he asks with pride in his voice, as if the landscape were a trophy he’d earned through hard work.
“I don’t know if I like it or if it makes me want to hate you a little for showing off so much,” I reply with a laugh, though my heart fills with joy at seeing him so alive and happy.
Miriam appears behind him. Her dark hair sways in the sea breeze, and her eyes reflect that deep calm she’s always conveyed to me since the day I met her.
“Don’t listen to your father,” she says with a soft, melodious laugh. “He’s been bragging about the scenery all morning as if he’d created it himself with his own hands.”
“Because it’s breathtaking,” my father replies with enthusiasm, making me smile even more. “Look at this for a moment, sweetheart, and tell me it isn’t paradise.”
The camera pans again, and for a few seconds the sea fills the entire phone screen, with its gentle waves and that endless horizon that invites you to dream.
I can’t help but stare at it, absorbed in its beauty.
The sound of the waves drifts faintly through the speaker, and suddenly a warm, comforting sensation washes over me.
“Okay, I admit it,” I say sincerely. “It’s beautiful, it really is, and it makes me happy to see you so happy in that corner of the world.”
Dad reappears on the screen with an expression of pure satisfaction that lights up his eyes.
“I wanted to remind you how beautiful it is.”
I rest my elbow on the arm of the sofa and watch the two of them closely, savoring the moment as if I were right there with them.
“How’s everything going over there?” I ask with interest, because I want to know every detail of their happiness.
“Everything’s going wonderfully, sweetheart,” Miriam replies with a calm, radiant smile. “The weather is perfect, the people are lovely, and your father has already befriended the entire resort, as if he’s been living here for years.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” he protests with feigned indignation.
“Pablo…” she says affectionately.
“Well, maybe a few of them,” he finally concedes with a laugh.
I burst out laughing, feeling how the conversation relaxes me and brings me closer to them despite the distance.
“It doesn’t surprise me at all, Dad; you’ve always had that knack for making friends wherever you go.”
For a few minutes, we talk about those little, everyday things that bring us together—school and my students, the weather in Valencia, which is already starting to get hot, and how strange it feels to see my father in a place so different from his usual routine.
Jota appears in the living room and lies down near me, as if he wants to be part of the family conversation unfolding on the screen.
“My goodness! He’s grown so much!” Miriam remarks when she sees him appear on the screen.
“He thinks he owns the whole house.”
“Because he actually does,” my father adds with total conviction, as if Jota were just another son. “And you’re not going to deny it.”
The conversation flows naturally until I notice something strange in the way they look at each other.
It’s a brief gesture, almost imperceptible to someone who doesn’t know them well, but I recognize it instantly because I’ve seen it before in other happy couples, and I miss it in my own life.
Dad clears his throat with a nervous sound that puts me on alert.
“Lidia…”
I raise an eyebrow curiously.
“When you say my name like that, it means something serious has happened.”
Miriam smiles sweetly, as if trying to lighten the mood and soften the conversation that’s about to come.
“We wanted to tell you something important, sweetheart. And we wanted you to be the first to know. You’re an essential part of our story.”
My father takes a deep breath before continuing, and his eyes shine with an emotion he can’t hide.
“We’re getting married, Lidia,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “And we want to share this special moment with you, to have you be part of everything from start to finish.”
For a second, I remain completely silent, processing the news. Not because it’s bad—on the contrary, it’s wonderful and fills my heart with sincere joy. It takes me a moment to react because I wasn’t expecting it. But soon I find myself swept up in a wave of emotion that floods my heart.
“Really?”
Dad nods, looking more radiant and happy than I’ve ever seen him before.
“Really. We’ve thought about it a lot, and we think it’s the perfect time.”
I look Miriam straight in the eyes through the screen, and she seems so calm and content that I can’t help feeling deep joy in my chest.
“That’s…” I begin, searching for the right words because I want them to know how much this means to me. “That’s wonderful, really. I’m so happy for you both, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
And I do. My father and Miriam have known each other for over a year, but the love between them was never slow or gradual. It was like one of those summer storms that comes to soak everything, without giving you time to take shelter.
“Your father and I are completely sure about taking this step,” she explains with that conviction that leaves no room for doubt. “We love each other, and we believe this is the perfect moment to take the plunge and join our lives together forever.”
Miriam looks at my father tenderly, and I melt inside.
“Life goes by so fast, daughter,” he adds. “And we can’t let time pass by living half-heartedly, without giving ourselves completely to what truly makes us happy.”
I know he doesn’t say it just to say it.
Behind those words lies advice I should take and follow to the letter.
Ever since Bárbara—my ex-wife and the love of my life—and I got divorced, my love life has turned into an endless string of failed attempts, dates that lead nowhere, conversations that don’t spark anything in me.
Relationships that never really become real, that stay on the surface without going any deeper.
I force myself back to the present, pushing those memories aside for a moment so as not to spoil the joy that has colored the conversation from the start.
“So when’s the wedding?”
My father leans a little closer to the camera, excited like a child with a new toy.
“The last weekend in May, right here. At the Ukulhas resort, surrounded by this sea and this sand that looks like something out of a dream…” he replies excitedly. “We’ve talked to the staff, and they’re fine with it. In fact, they’ll help us with whatever we need.”
The Maldives was where I met Bárbara, and where I knew I had found the love of my life—the kind that would last forever.
In my mind, the memories come flooding back in vivid detail, filling me with bittersweet tenderness.
I remember how Bárbara and I would walk along the beach at sunset, hands intertwined and hearts full of those emotions that took the form of salty kisses.
Her eyes shone with the same intensity as the sea at dusk, and her caresses tasted of the future and of home.
We laughed at the silliest things, hugged under the palm trees, and dreamed of a life together that seemed eternal.
That trip was bathed in fire, a fire that burned my skin and left a mark on my soul.
But it all faded with time, like the waves that erase footprints in the sand.
The divorce swept away all that magic we created together, and since then I’ve built walls around my heart so I won’t suffer again, even though deep down I long to feel that deep connection again that only she gave me.
“You’ll come, won’t you?” Miriam asks, hope in her voice, as if she knew I needed a nudge.
I look at her through the screen, feeling the weight of the decision, but also the strength of her excitement. My father seems so happy… so excited, that any other answer would be impossible and cruel.
“Of course I’ll come,” I say with a smile that comes from the bottom of my heart. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Your happiness is mine too. I’ll just have to ask for some help and make sure everything is well organized.”
Dad smiles as if he’d just won the lottery jackpot.
“I knew you’d say yes.”
“I’d never miss your wedding, Dad.”
I let out a small laugh even though, deep down, the past stirs like dry leaves in the breeze. Because I can’t help but think of Bárbara, and how the magic of the Maldives led us to give free rein to a love story that wasn’t “forever.”