CHAPTER 5
THE FLIGHT AND DORMANT MEMORIES
Barbara
The constant hum of the plane has become the soundtrack that’s been with me for several hours now, a deep, persistent rumble that vibrates in my ears, lulling my senses to sleep.
I glance at the clock glowing on the screen right in front of my seat and see that we still have three more hours before landing.
“Just three hours,” I repeat to myself, even though my muscles are so stiff it feels like I’ve been sitting in this same spot since the last century.
I shift my position for the umpteenth time, searching for a posture that won’t make my back protest. It feels like I’m sitting on a slab of stone, and at this rate, my butt is going to go numb.
“This should be illegal,” I protest to myself in a complaining tone that barely escapes my lips, parched by the air conditioning.
The woman in the seat next to me looks up from the magazine she’s holding and gives me a kind, understanding smile.
“What exactly?” she asks curiously, leaning toward me slightly as if she’s genuinely interested in my answer.
I look at her with resignation and answer slowly, letting the words flow more calmly than I actually feel.
“Sitting for so many hours without being able to stretch my legs properly, without being able to move comfortably, as if the entire plane had turned into a cage with wings.”
She lets out a laugh that fills the small space between us and nods, as if we were sharing the same secret.
“We still have a few hours ahead of us, don’t worry so much. Just think that in the end, all of this will be worth it. I’ve made this trip before, and it always ends up being worth it.”
“Please don’t remind me of that; it just makes me even more anxious,” I reply with a slight sigh, though I notice that her gentle tone relaxes my shoulders a little.
“Just think that the final destination is worth every minute of this ordeal. The Maldives isn’t just any place; it’s one of those places that changes your life,” she adds optimistically.
“The Maldives. That white-sand paradise where I met the woman of my life, where love flowed until it made our story painfully unforgettable.”
I nod with a polite, courteous smile, though inside I feel a knot in my stomach.
“I hope so, that it’s worth every second of this flight,” I reply, and she seems satisfied with my answer.
I lean back slightly in my seat and let the backrest support my weight as I relax the muscles that have grown tense over time.
It’s been just over two hours since we landed in Dubai for our layover.
I’d forgotten that the airport is like a small city, filled with bright lights that dazzle anyone, luxurious shops with windows that invite you to dream, and people walking hurriedly in every possible direction.
I clearly remember walking through those wide corridors with the firm intention of getting the blood flowing in my legs again after it had stagnated during the previous flight, moving from one side to the other to feel like I was back in control of my body.
I also recall the exact moment I looked at the huge departure board and realized, for the first time since leaving London, that this trip was crazy. That I was returning to the Maldives.
I close my eyes for a few seconds and let the constant noise of the plane envelop me.
The passengers around me are talking in low voices, discreet murmurs barely distinguishable over the hum of the engines.
Some are sleeping. Others are focused on the movies playing on the individual screens in front of them.
A child a few rows back is complaining loudly because he doesn’t want to fasten his seatbelt, and his childish protest brings a brief smile to my face.
The air inside the cabin mixes the aroma of the meal served a little over an hour ago with that generic, artificial scent that characterizes every airplane in the world—a smell that is now part of my memory as a solo traveler.
I slowly run a hand over the back of my neck, massaging away the accumulated tension that has settled there.
Traveling has never been my favorite activity; everyone who knows me knows that.
I’m not afraid of flying, but the feeling of being cooped up for so many hours inside a metal tube thousands of feet in the air doesn’t exactly fit my idea of comfort and relaxation.
Especially when I’m doing it alone, as I am this time, with no one beside me to break the silence with light conversation or a hand to squeeze mine to remind me that I’m not alone.
Walking up and down the aisle for a bit brought some relief for a few minutes, but now the fatigue is returning and settling into my muscles.
The only thing I long for at this very moment is to get to the hotel as soon as possible.
To take a long, relaxing bath, and collapse into a wide, soft bed where I can sleep without restrictions.
Above all, a bed where I can close my eyes and let the world stop, even if only for a few hours.
I breathe slowly as I turn my gaze toward the small window beside me, and the night sky stretches out before my eyes like a vast dark ocean dotted with stars twinkling in the distance.
Far below, barely visible, are a few tiny lights on the ground that fade into the vastness.
Years ago, I was sitting in exactly the same position as I am now.
I had made the decision to travel alone, driven by an urgent need to escape.
To flee from that empty, hollow routine that loomed before me after leaving college and being unable to find a job.
In my mind, I kept reliving the thought that I needed a real adventure, something to pull me out of the monotony and restore my enthusiasm—that positivity I’d lost amid so much job-related negativity.
And boy, did I find it: an adventure that exceeded all my expectations and left my heart wide open.
I smile faintly as I recall it, because that was exactly where she appeared.
Lidia. The first time I saw her, she was arguing with the waiter at the resort restaurant.
She was gesturing expressively with her hands, showing her frustration, but he couldn’t understand her, and her expression struck me as irresistible.
I was sitting at a table not too far away—close enough—watching the scene, as if something inside me already knew that moment was going to change everything.
“Do you want me to help you?” I asked her.
I remember clearly how she turned toward me. Her green eyes had a curious sparkle, and her gaze locked onto mine with such intensity that I felt a shiver run down my spine.
Yes, I fell in love.
“Please, I’d really appreciate it,” she replied, giving me one of those smiles that make you feel like the world stops for a second. “Before I end up ordering something I don’t want and drinking the water from that vase.”
I said a few words to the waiter, and suddenly we found ourselves sitting together at the same table where I had been before she arrived, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, laughing in complicity.
As if we’d known each other our whole lives, as if fate had arranged that encounter so our lives would cross paths and never part again.
That instant connection made me feel a warmth in my chest I’d never experienced before, as if an electric current were running through my skin every time our eyes met or our hands brushed against each other.
We talked for hours that afternoon, sharing stories, and every word she spoke made me wish the sun would never set so I could keep listening to her.
It was love at first sight, the kind that gets lodged deep inside you.
I shake my head slightly and push away that memory that insists on coming back.
There’s no point in reliving it now, even though my heart is determined to remind me that Lidia is still very much present.
No matter how hard I’ve tried to move on, to immerse myself in my work and cling to Ingrid’s constant presence so I don’t fall apart.
Ever since I received the invitation, I haven’t stopped thinking about Lidia.
I have no idea if Pablo has told her that I’m invited, if he’s told her that I’ve decided to travel a few weeks early to help him with the preparations.
That doubt has been with me from the very beginning.
I wonder how she reacted when she found out.
Whether she was surprised, whether she felt angry, or whether she simply shrugged it off.
I sigh and cross my arms over my chest, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me.
What I do know is that sooner or later we’ll see each other. Ukulhas isn’t exactly New York, and her father’s wedding makes the encounter practically inevitable.
The very idea unsettles me, because the last time we saw each other wasn’t exactly a moment worth remembering.
We said so many things to each other that afternoon before signing the divorce papers that I’ve barely been able to erase from my mind the sight of her tears mingling with the raindrops falling on us.
“Barbara, it’s always been the same with you…” Lidia exclaimed back then with that mix of anger and sadness that still weighs on my soul today. “Your work, you, you, and you… everything always seems to matter more than what we built together and what I mean to you.”
“That’s not true,” I replied. Although deep down, I knew my words sounded more like a defense than a conviction, and that every syllable betrayed what I really felt.
“Then prove it to me, because I’m tired of waiting for you to change,” she challenged me, her eyes filled with tears and her voice breaking with pain.
“That’s your problem. You want me to change, and I’ve always been this way. This is the woman you married.”
I remember the silence that settled between us afterward.
A thick, oppressive silence. A silence that arises when both people realize something has been broken forever.
That was the last time I saw her cry because of me.
After that, we signed the divorce papers.
I had already accepted the job offer at West Ham, so I left Valencia and our paths parted forever.
I open my eyes and look around the airplane cabin, where everything seems completely normal.
A flight attendant passes by with a beverage cart, offering a smile to every row.
I rest my head against the seatback and let out a long, deep sigh that seems to carry away some of the tension I’m carrying with me.
“Calm down, Barbara, breathe…”
“You’re here for Pablo. For his wedding.
For a man who always treated you as if you were part of his family, like another daughter.
That’s the main reason,” I tell myself firmly.
“Just Pablo and the happiness he deserves.” I cling to that idea as if it were a lifeboat in the middle of the sea, because the truth is that the mere thought of seeing her again makes my stomach knot and my heart beat irregularly.
“What will happen when we meet again? Will we greet each other somehow? Will we have an awkward conversation full of pauses and neutral topics? Or will a tense silence simply surround us as we pretend that everything is perfectly fine and that the past doesn’t still hurt us?
” I shake my head and push those images away before they can grow any further.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, letting the exhaustion from the flight wash over me.
When I open them again, I look out the window once more and notice that the sky is beginning to show a faint streak of light on the horizon, “a new dawn.”
“Three hours. Just three…”
And I offer a weary smile because, as the plane heads toward the island of Malé, I promise myself that, when I arrive in Ukulhas, I’ll leave the memories where they belong—in the past—and focus solely on what really matters: Pablo’s happiness and the celebration of his wedding.
Everything else… we’ll see, because the heart, sometimes, has its own plans and doesn’t always honor the promises one makes to oneself at ten thousand meters up.