CHAPTER 6
THE BEAUTY OF UKULHAS ISLAND
Lidia
I’ve racked up many hours of travel. I feel exhausted, with stiff muscles and a foggy mind, but the moment the island comes into view, the fatigue vanishes and is left behind, floating among the waves of the Indian Ocean.
I’ve tried to convince myself that these weeks in the Maldives might be just what I need to close a chapter I should have closed long ago, to reconnect with my father, and to dispel those fears that keep me from thinking about my own future.
Right now, all I know is that I need to stop thinking about everything and just enjoy this paradise.
The water looks so crystal-clear that it’s hard to believe this really exists.
It’s an intense turquoise green, translucent and magical, glistening under the midday sun as if thousands of diamonds had been scattered across its surface.
Every wave that crashes against the ferry’s hull seems to welcome us, and I feel like a little girl, imagining how we’re slowly approaching the modest pier at Ukulhas, while my whole body exhales a sigh of relief that runs from my shoulders to the tips of my toes.
When the ferry docks and I step down the wooden ramp, the warm air envelops me, heavy with humidity and salt.
That distinctive scent of the sea mingles with the fresh fragrance of the tropical vegetation growing everywhere.
I close my eyes for a second to take a deep breath, letting each inhale fill my lungs and restore the feeling of being alive again.
I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and move forward, dragging my suitcase as I try to spot my father among the people waiting in the sun.
There are several locals chatting among themselves, some tourists with huge hats shielding their faces, and resort employees holding signs covered with surnames I don’t recognize.
I have a hard time finding him, but once I do, my heart skips a beat.
For a moment I stand still, motionless, and think about how something as simple as reuniting with your father can fill you with that energy you can’t get back no matter how many hours of sleep you treat yourself to.
Then he sees me too, and in that connection that lasts just a few seconds, I’m his little girl again.
I remember the day he told me he needed to travel, to see the world, to find himself again after Mom’s death.
I remember that first video call when he told me about Miriam, about her smile and her enthusiasm.
And my envy. Yes, envy. Because everyone around me was happy while I watched my life turn into a heart-wrenching hell.
“Lidia!”
His voice comes through clear and warm before my legs can react.
I hurry toward him, dragging my suitcase as fast as I can, though deep down what I really want is to run toward him like I did when I was little.
He takes two long strides toward me, and when we finally meet, he wraps me in a hug so tight and protective it takes my breath away.
“Dad…” I murmur against his shoulder, my voice muffled, full of emotion.
He smells like coconut sunscreen, but above all, he smells like home, like safety, like that refuge that has never let me down. His arms hold me tightly, and I let myself sink into him, realizing that I’ve been needing one of his hugs for a long time.
“Look at you,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me closely. “You’re really here—I can’t believe it.”
He smiles with pride and emotion, and I feel my eyes welling up.
“Of course I’m here,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant, even though my throat tightens slightly. “Did you think I was going to miss your wedding? Not a chance, Dad.”
He shakes his head, but hugs me again as if he still needs to confirm that I’m real and that I’m not going to disappear.
“I’ve missed you.” And he says it so quietly that it feels like an intimate confession meant only for the two of us.
I don’t have time to answer because Miriam appears beside us, breaking the intensity of the moment with ease.
“Save some for me, come on. I want to say hi to her too.”
I’ve seen her many times in photos and on video calls, but meeting her in person completely changes the impression I’d formed of her.
She’s taller than I imagined, with a serene presence and a smile that radiates warmth and so much love.
Her dark eyes shine with sincerity, and her relaxed demeanor dispels any nerves I might have.
For a second we look at each other in silence, and I can’t help but think of my mother.
What she must be thinking about all this, and whether she’s happy wherever she is.
“Hi, Lidia,” she greets me easily. “We’re finally meeting in person.”
She isn’t tense, so that puts me at ease. My father looks at us with delight, as if he already knew that everything would click between us.
“Hi, Miriam,” I reply, and we hug too.
Her hug is different from my father’s: softer, more enveloping, but just as sincere. When we pull apart, she looks at me curiously, as if trying to recognize all the things my father must have told her about me.
“I was intrigued,” she says with a playful smile. “Your father hasn’t stopped talking about you, and he’d already gotten me curious.”
“My dad always talks too much,” I joke, glancing at my dad with a knowing look. “Although I’m starting to think he has no filter, and that’s a little concerning.”
He raises his hands.
“Hey, I didn’t say anything, just so you know. I’m staying out of this conversation.”
The three of us burst out laughing, and suddenly the scene loses that initial tension, as if the salty air had carried it all away with it.
The car waiting for us is an open-top SUV, perfect for touring the island without missing a single detail of the landscape.
The three of us climb in, and the driver pulls away slowly, leaving the port behind.
Ukulhas reveals itself to my eyes as even more beautiful than I remembered.
The narrow streets are lined with vegetation swaying in the gentle, steady sea breeze, and I decide to lean back against the seat, enjoying the wind ruffling my hair as I think that this place seems straight out of a dream, a corner where time stretches out and worries dissolve into the sea.
“So,” my father asks, turning toward me with interest, “how was the trip?”
“Endless,” I reply without a moment’s hesitation. “I think I’ve broken my personal record for hours in transit; between planes, layovers, and boats, I feel like I’ve lost half my life. But here I am, and just seeing the two of you has made every minute worth it.”
“This place is cut off from the world…” Miriam remarks with a sympathetic grimace that makes me smile. “But once you get here, everything you carry inside you just disappears.”
I look around and take in the turquoise water, the white sand glistening in the sun, and the clear sky that seems to touch the horizon.
“Definitely,” I say, and I mean it with total conviction.
For a few minutes, we chat about simple things. My father listens to every detail attentively, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks on end, and I silently appreciate that dedication because it makes me feel that our bond remains intact despite the miles that have separated us.
“By the way…” I say then, leaning forward slightly with curiosity. “Who exactly have you invited? I want to get an idea of everything we have to organize over the next few days.”
My father exchanges a quick glance with Miriam.
“People who are important to us,” he replies quickly.
I frown and feel the intrigue growing inside me.
“That sounds like I’m in for a surprise, and I don’t know if I’m going to like it.”
“You know I have a lot of friends,” he says simply. “It’s a time to have fun, to enjoy ourselves, and to get together with the people we love.”
“Dad,” I insist, though I can’t help but smile. “You can’t just say that and act like nothing’s wrong.”
Miriam then chimes in, an innocent smile playing on her lips.
“Your father has put a lot of thought into the guest list,” she explains with a playful tone. “But I assure you, they’re people who mean a lot to him and, by extension, to us.”
“That puts my mind at ease…” I say. Though I can’t stop wondering who he might have invited. The uncertainty gives me a strange flutter in my stomach.
The car turns toward the coast, and suddenly the landscape opens up before my eyes. The sea appears on our right, sparkling in the afternoon sun, and its beauty is so overwhelming that I’m left speechless.
“All right,” Miriam finally says, turning to me with a burst of energy. “I hope you’re ready to work, because I need you at the top of your game. I need a lot of help because the resort has left all the decorating up to me, and I don’t know where to start.”
“Is everything that chaotic?”
“Let’s just say… I’ve gone a little crazy with it all.”
My father snorts affectionately.
“That’s a very polite way of saying we’ve been arguing for weeks about the flowers, the menu, and the music.”
“We haven’t argued!” Miriam protests.
I can’t help but laugh along with them, and I feel the atmosphere fill with that family camaraderie I’ve needed and missed so much.
“Okay, okay… I get it,” I reply, raising my hands in a peace sign. “Count me in for whatever you need. And don’t worry,” I add with a calm smile, looking at Miriam. “I’m back with my batteries recharged and eager to lend a hand.”
She seems genuinely relieved.
“Thank goodness…”
I raise an eyebrow and look out at the sea stretching just a few meters from the road, its hues shifting from turquoise to deep blue.
“That said…” I say, pointing toward the water with my chin. “I hope you’ll give me a little time to take a dip. I can’t wait to feel the cool water on my skin.”
As the car drives along the coast, I feel something I didn’t expect to feel so soon: a sweet, deep lightness.
As if everything were exactly where it’s supposed to be, including me.
I suppose that’s how it feels when the people you care about are close by.
Because yes, in the end, your home is where the hearts of those you love are, and I know that, the day I have to go back, it will hurt a lot to leave everything behind.