Page 79 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

But it’s not enough. Because the void Barbara leaves when she leaves is always too big, too deep. And this time it hurts worse than ever. Because this time she let me believe, let me dream, of a future that seemed possible once and for all. Only to leave at the worst possible moment, when all I needed was for her to show me through her actions just how much she needed me.

Through my tears, I look up at the empty entrance to the restaurant, at the black night that has swallowed her up without mercy. It is there, in that darkness, that I understand something that tears my soul apart forever: that there are loves that do not return to heal you, but to teach you that they can still break you even more, that there are still pieces of you that you didn’t know could shatter, and that once that happens, you are never the same again.

CHAPTER 39

THE CONSEQUENCES OF NOT TELLING THE TRUTH

Barbara

I run after Ingrid with my heart racing and the feeling that the ground is shifting beneath my feet. I don’t know when I leave the restaurant, or if I bump into anyone as I pass. Everything that had surrounded me up until that moment reaches me muffled, distant, as if my body had turned into an empty shell that obeys only the urgent impulse to catch up with Ingrid before she disappears from my life forever. Before she takes with her the last chance to do something right tonight. Even if it’s too late. Even if the damage is already done.

The humid, salty air of Ukulhas hits my face as I leave the resort behind. The music fades away little by little behind me, and the night envelops me with its sticky heat, the constant murmur of the sea, and a moon so huge and bright it seems to be mocking me from above. What a cruel irony. Just an hour ago I was kissing the woman of my life under this very same moon, feeling that at last the universe was granting me a second chance I didn’t deserve. And now I’m running along the beach like a coward who’s always late for all the important truths in her life.

I see Ingrid a few meters ahead. She’s walking quickly across the sand, barefoot, her heels dangling from one hand and her back stiff with pure rage. She walks as if she wants to leave behind not only the island, but also everything we’ve shared these past two years—years filled with lies and attempts to move forward.

“Ingrid!” I call out, gasping as the sand traps my feet and prevents me from moving quickly.

She doesn’t turn around, so I try to run faster, with a sharp pain in my chest and the hot air burning my lungs.

“Ingrid! Wait, please!”

She stops abruptly, and I’m about to crash into her back. She turns slowly, and what I see on her face pierces my soul. There’s not just anger in her eyes. There’s disappointment, there’s pain, there’s humiliation, and above all, there’s a sadness so deep that it reflects back to me, like a cruel mirror, the image of the damage I’ve caused.

Ingrid has always been strong. She has that tough, unyielding presence that can make you tremble. She’s the kind of woman who made even the worst days at the club more bearable with her dark humor and strong coffee. The friend who held me up back then when I didn’t even know how to hold myself up. The woman who has loved me honestly and without reservation. But no heart is strong enough when someone you love hurts you without mercy.

“What do you want now?” she spits, her voice thick with venom and exhaustion.

My heart leaps out of my chest and my throat tightens so much I can barely swallow.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But we need to talk.”

Ingrid lets out a dry, bitter laugh, devoid of any trace of humor.

“Now? How convenient and thoughtful of you to come running after me to tell me that you’ve been sleeping with your ex while I was in London, thinking that what was going on with you was that you just weren’t coping,” she retorts harshly. “We don’t need to talk anymore, Barbara. I think everyone in that restaurant has found out that you’ve been cheating on me.”

I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath, because I deserve every one of her sharp words.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry!” she snaps, her voice suddenly rising, trembling with pure outrage. “Don’t you dare sum up all that shit in two words!”

Ingrid points toward the restaurant. I look her straight in the eyes, unable to defend myself. She’s absolutely right.

“You have every right to be angry with me…”

“Angry?” She takes a step toward me, her eyes shining and brimming with tears. “Barbara, I’ve traveled halfway around the world because I thought you needed me, because I hadn’t recognized your voice on the phone for days, because I sensed something was wrong. And when I get here, I find my partner kissing another woman in front of fifty people as if I didn’t exist. How do you think I feel?”

I swallow hard. It’s hard to hold her gaze, but I do.

“Ingrid…”

“No. This time I’m talking!” she interrupts me, pointing her finger at me while rage makes her hand tremble. “Do you know what the worst part of all this is!? It’s not that you cheated on me, even though that hurts—and it hurts a lot. The worst part is discovering that for over a year I’ve been in love with a woman who’s never been in love with me. Who’s always had a part of her heart somewhere else, with someone else, in another country, and that I was just that rock she clung to in order to try to move forward and erase the past that you yourself created through your own stupidity.”

Each and every one of her words hits me and cuts deep into my skin. Ingrid isn’t exaggerating; I’m aware that I was never able to fully heal, that I’ve always carried the memory of Lidia in my heart, that I never stopped loving her no matter how much I tried.

Ingrid runs a hand over her face, trembling with rage.