CHAPTER 32
HOW HARD IT IS TO HIDE THE TRUTH
Barbara
Sleeping last night was impossible. I spent the long hours with my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling of the room while the sound of the sea drifted in through the window and mingled softly with Lidia’s breathing.
My head was full of thoughts spinning round and round, creating a dull, unbearable pressure in my chest.
What tormented me—and continues to torment me—is not my feelings for Lidia.
That was always clear to me, as clear as the turquoise water surrounding this island.
It’s everything else: every single lie I’ve kept to myself these past few days, everything I’ve ignored and left out of this wonderful bubble.
At first I thought it wouldn’t catch up with me, but…
as the days have gone by, it’s caught up with me more and more, like a wave that keeps growing bigger, one you know will eventually swallow you whole.
I can’t keep dragging this out any longer.
Lidia doesn’t deserve what I’m doing to her, much less to suffer again because of me.
I can’t keep this a secret forever and hope she finds out when this trip comes to an end.
I have to tell her because if I keep going like this, the situation is only going to get worse.
The morning unfolds with a cruel calm, as if the world were mocking me, forcing me to face my problems with no possible escape.
The sky is clear, painted a deep blue that seems unreal; the air is light and smells of salt and wildflowers; the entire island looks like something out of a postcard, the kind that invites you to believe that life can be simple and beautiful.
We walk together along one of the paths that run along the coast. On one side, the sea shimmers with that unreal turquoise hue, and small waves break gently against the shore.
On the other, the palm trees sway softly in the breeze, letting the sunlight filter through their leaves in golden beams that dance across the path.
Between us… there is silence. It isn’t awkward, nor is it tense, but it is different.
While we were showering, Lidia already noticed that something was going on with me, and it’s not like I’m very good at hiding my emotions.
She’s always had a special radar for my moods, and even though I still don’t know how I’m going to tell her, I know it can’t wait any longer.
“You’re still so quiet,” she finally says, turning toward me with that natural ease of hers that I love so much and that now terrifies me.
Her voice doesn’t sound accusatory. It’s soft, affectionate, but direct. Her reddish hair flows in strands of fire that brush against her forehead and cheeks. Lidia looks like a goddess pulled straight from the ocean itself, beautiful and unique.
I pause, take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes because maybe this is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment that’s going to change everything forever.
“I was just remembering the past…” I begin, and my voice comes out in a whisper. “I was thinking about my arrival in London, about how hard it was for me to realize that you were a thousand times more important than anything else in my life.”
Her expression softens instantly, filled with tenderness, and I feel my heart tighten.
“Well, the best part is that…” she replies, wrapping her arms around my neck in a slow, loving gesture. “You still have time to fix everything, don’t you think?”
Her smile… My God. Her smile is everything I don’t deserve right now.
It’s radiant, sincere—the kind that lights up her whole face and makes little wrinkles form around her eyes.
I feel my stomach clench, the words crowding in my throat, struggling to come out, and the magic taking shape around us, suspended, waiting for me to dare break it.
“Lidia… I…” I begin, my voice trembling slightly. “I want to tell you something…”
But I’m unable to finish the sentence because, at that moment, my phone rings and the repetitive sound of the ringtone shatters everything. As I pull it out of my pants pocket, Ingrid’s name flashes on the screen next to the video call icon.
“Your coworker again?” Lidia asks, leaning slightly toward me, curious as she tries to see the screen.
I feel a cold sweat run down my back from top to bottom. My pulse races so fast I can feel it in my temples, and my mind, for a second, goes completely blank.
“Yeah… uh… I’ll call her back later,” I reply quickly, awkwardly, so obviously that Lidia raises an eyebrow as she watches me press the reject button.
I quickly tuck my phone back into my pocket, as if hiding it could make the whole problem it represents disappear too. But all I manage to do is turn it into a noose around my neck, one that starts tightening and choking me.
“You could’ve answered, you know?” Lidia says casually, shrugging slightly. “It might be important.”
I look her straight in the eyes and see her trust, her calm; she doesn’t doubt me for a second, and that—precisely that—is what tears me apart inside. I don’t deserve any of it.
“It wasn’t important, I’m sure,” I lie, and the words taste bitter in my mouth.
Again. When are you going to stop lying? I ask myself, and she nods without questioning it, without suspecting a thing.
We resume our walk, but now everything feels heavier.
The air seems thicker, the silence more oppressive, every step heavier, every glance another small betrayal added to all the others.
I’m aware that as soon as I look Lidia in the eyes again, everything I’m hiding will spill out uncontrollably, overflowing like a river breaking through a dam.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she insists, this time her voice tinged with gentle but genuine concern.
I stop again on the path. And this time I can’t look away. I don’t want to, but I also don’t know exactly how to face her without breaking down.
“Yes,” I reply, and I hate how my voice sounds—so fake, so hollow.
It’s not true. I’m not okay. I’m about to break something that I shouldn’t even have let happen in the first place.
“It’s just…” I add, desperately searching for something to hold on to so I don’t sink. “I guess everything that’s happening is stirring things up inside me. Coming back here, reliving memories… I don’t know, it’s making me a little emotional.”
That, at least, isn’t entirely a lie. Lidia approaches slowly, carefully, as if I were something fragile that could break with the slightest touch, and she gently strokes my cheek.
“It happens to me too,” she confesses with a small, honest smile. “But it’s not a bad thing, is it? Stirring things up sometimes helps put them in their place.”
I shake my head gently, even though part of me strongly disagrees.
“No… it isn’t,” I murmur.
But there’s a part of me screaming the opposite. Because stirring things up also means bringing everything that’s hidden into the light, and what I’m hiding is too big, too complicated, too painful not to think about the consequences.
Her hand naturally seeks mine and squeezes it with that confidence that always makes things seem easier, more bearable.
“Hey…” she adds, looking into my eyes tenderly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect right now. Let’s just… enjoy what we have, the present. The rest will come when it has to.”
I stare at her for several seconds. And in that moment, I want to believe with all my might that this is enough.
That we can stay right here, in this fragile and beautiful balance, without talking about what lies beyond this island, without facing what I’ve done, without reality catching up with us.
I want to believe that we can keep walking like this, hand in hand, with the sea as our witness and the sun warming our skin.
But I know it isn’t. That it isn’t real. That it isn’t fair to her. That it isn’t sustainable. Even so, I squeeze her hand back, intertwining my fingers with hers more tightly.
“I’m here,” I reply, and in that moment it’s true. “And I want to stay here.”
Because I’m with her. Because I feel her close, warm, alive.
Because I love her with an intensity that scares me.
Because even that isn’t enough. Especially when the truth comes to light, when this perfect bubble we’ve created stops being perfect, when I have to look her straight in the eyes and tell her what kind of monster I’ve become.
We keep walking as if nothing had happened.
As if everything were fine between us. Our steps fall in sync, the wind ruffles our hair, and the sound of the waves accompanies us.
Every now and then Lidia points something out and I smile, nod, and try to join in, but inside me there’s something that’s already started to break, and I don’t know if, when it finally breaks completely, anything will remain standing between us.
I don’t know if her trust will survive the truth.
I don’t know if her love will be strong enough to forgive what I still don’t dare confess to her.
I only know that the clock keeps ticking, that the day goes on, and that every minute that passes without us speaking is one more minute of lies. One more minute in which I love her with all my being and, at the same time, I’m betraying her beyond repair.
I want to stop walking, hold her tight against me, bury my face in her neck and breathe in her scent, whisper in her ear that I’m sorry, that all of this is a disaster I’ve brought upon myself.
But I don’t. I simply keep walking with her hand still intertwined with mine, pretending that this walk is just that: a romantic stroll on a paradise island.
At one point, Lidia stops and turns toward me, gently pulling my hand so I’ll look at her.
“You know what?” she says in that low, warm voice that always makes me feel at home. “I love being here with you. Far away from everything. Just the two of us. As if the world had stopped.”
Her words hit me right in the chest. I want to tell her that I love it too, that I’d love nothing more than to stay here forever, in this bubble. But instead, I just smile and move a little closer, until our foreheads are almost touching.
“Me too,” I whisper, and I’m not lying.
We stay like that for a few seconds, breathing the same air, feeling the sun’s warmth on our skin.
For a fleeting moment, I almost manage to convince myself that everything will be okay, that I’ll find the right words, that she’ll understand and forgive me.
But then my phone vibrates again in my pocket, and reality crashes into me once more.
This time I pretend not to notice. I just squeeze Lidia’s hand tighter and keep walking, my heart pounding wildly in my chest and the certainty that today, before the sun sets, I’ll have to break this silence that’s suffocating me.
Because, even if it costs me everything, I have to be brave for once and face what I’ve done.
Even if that means losing her. Even if it means that this perfect island suddenly becomes the setting for our second goodbye.