Page 20 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

I frown slightly as I watch the waves gently breaking in the distance.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” I say gently. “Besides, you don’t need to know someone who’s no longer part of my life.”

“I didn’t say it was necessary,” she replies quickly. “I’m just saying that… well, never mind.”

I’m not quite sure what to say. Because this is new. Ingrid has never had a problem with my past. She’s never seemed uncomfortable when I’ve mentioned Lidia in previous conversations. She’s never…

“My thing with her is in the past. You know how hard it was for me,” I finally say, in a firmer tone than I expected. “There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, she can’t stand me, and I doubt we’ll see much of each other in the days leading up to the wedding. We’re two adults who can survive a wedding.”

“Sure,” Ingrid replies after a few seconds, though her voice sounds less convinced than I’d like. “If you say so.”

The remark is neutral, but I’m not a kid, and I can read between the lines. And that makes me really uncomfortable.

“Ingrid…”

“Hey,” she cuts me off gently, almost tenderly. “I have to go. You know the girls always need us for some silly thing.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

“Get some rest, okay? Try to get some sleep and regain your strength.”

“I’ll try,” I promise, without much conviction.

“We’ll talk later. I’ll keep you posted on everything.”

“Okay.”

The call ends and silence envelops me once more. The sea is still there, unchanging, indifferent to everything. I lower the phone slowly and tuck it into my pants pocket. I stare into the darkness for a long moment, Ingrid’s words echoing in my head.

“Is it really nothing to worry about, Barbara?” I whisper to myself, as if voicing the question could dissolve the tension I feel in my chest.

But it is something to worry about, because deep down I know that things with Lidia aren’t going to be easy. Because I know that seeing her again has affected me. Because this knot in my stomach and that electric current that appeared between us when we saw each other again is no coincidence.

CHAPTER 12

GOOD MORNING, LID

Barbara

I don’t remember when I got back to the bungalow, or when I fell asleep. I only remember doing so with a bitter feeling in my chest, tossing and turning in bed, feeling the sheets tangle between my legs and how, despite the air conditioning, the heat seemed to cling intensely to my skin.

Every time I closed my eyes, the images in my head repeated over and over in a loop: the ferry rocking on the water, the pier lit by lanterns, the resort’s garden, and Lidia. Always Lidia. Her gaze, her voice, her irony. Then Ingrid and her jealousy mixed with that concern that has lodged itself inside me like a splinter. And finally, my whole life shattering into a thousand pieces.

I had never felt caught between a rock and a hard place until the moment I sensed that change in Ingrid. She’s been with me from the start; she knows exactly how things went and witnessed the sorry state I was in when I arrived in London. We’d already talked about Lidia, about what our relationship was like, about everything that led to our divorce. She’d always been understanding. Though last night it became clear to me that the idea of having Lidia around makes her feel insecure and uneasy.

About five minutes ago, the sun streamed through the bungalow’s windows and forced me to open my eyes. It also brought me back to the present moment: Ukulhas, the Maldives, the resort, Pablo’s wedding. I decided to lie there a little longer, staring at the ceiling, negotiating with myself over the absurd possibility of staying here all day. But no. I’m not that kind of person. Or rather, I stopped being that person a long time ago. Now I’m used to getting up early, to the alarm going off at five in the morning, to putting on my sneakers and going for a run with Ingrid while London is still yawning under the gray light of dawn. That routine clears my head, grounds me, reminds me who I am and what place I occupy in the world.

But today I’m not tied to anything. Just a strange, heavy sensation lodged in the center of my chest, and a weariness I recognize isn’t just physical.

I would have liked to sleep straight through, but I couldn’t. I spent hours looking up information about the team, refreshing the page every few minutes, scrolling through Instagram Reels and posts like an addict. And for what?

“A damn headache,” a little voice in my head reminds me.

I sit up slowly. I stretch my neck and shoulders carefully, feeling my vertebrae crack, and let out a long sigh.

“Come on,” I encourage myself. “Get moving, Barbara.”