Page 8 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

The wind ripples the surface of the lake, creating small waves that reflect the sunlight. If I look back, I remember in vivid detail when I saw her arrive at the resort restaurant where I was staying that night. I fell head over heels for her instantly—a feeling that’s still etched in my soul.

I shake my head to push away those memories that are no longer part of my present and focus my attention on what is: London, Hyde Park, the hot coffee, and the woman I share every morning with.

Ingrid looks at me and adds affectionately, “Besides, you deserve a few days off. I’ve been watching you go over statistics until 1 a.m. for weeks now, and that’s not healthy.”

I let out a little chuckle.

“Since when do you recommend taking a break?”

“Ever since you got here and became obsessed with work and control,” she replies. “It’s one thing to like it, but what you’re doing is another.”

“Minor differences…” I say, downplaying the issue.

She shakes her head, still smiling.

“The team won’t have any objections, I assure you. I can sense it, and my intuition never fails me.”

I stay silent because I don’t like impulsive decisions. I’ve always been the type to analyze everything before taking a step forward. But I also know that if I start overthinking what it means to go back to the Maldives, I’ll probably never get on that plane. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to miss Pablo’s wedding, that doesn’t want to completely close that door to the past.

“I’ll do one thing,” I say, sounding more determined. “I’ll talk to the club this very afternoon. And depending on what they tell me… I’ll do it. Without giving it another thought.”

“It’s a simple way to decide without really deciding, but at least it’s a step.”

I get up from the bench and stretch my legs, feeling my muscles relax after the effort. All around us, the park is still bustling with life. Ingrid gets up too and stands next to me, so close that I can catch the subtle scent of her shampoo mixed with the clean sweat from the run.

“Let’s go,” I say with a smile. “If we keep sitting here, you’ll end up convincing me to run another kilometer.”

Ingrid laughs softly and replies in that playful tone I love so much.

“Coward.”

“Realist,” I correct her, and we start walking again.

As we make our way through the trees, with the sun climbing higher and the breeze caressing our faces, I can’t help but feel that something important has been set in motion inside me. I don’t know if I’ll end up boarding that plane to the Maldives or not. The only thing I truly know is that whatever decision I make, Ingrid will be here, as will my job and everything I’ve achieved over the years. And that certainty fills my heart with a peace you only feel when you know you’ve found calm in the midst of chaos.

CHAPTER 4

THE WEIGHT OF THE SUITCASES

Lidia

When Sundays roll around, a peace settles into the house that we don’t usually experience during the week. The silence is accompanied by a calm that dissolves everything else, pushing aside the sounds of the city and forcing you to slow down. Everything pauses, as if time has decided to move more slowly, compelling you to breathe without haste and pay a little more attention to yourself.

I’ve been sitting on the living room floor for several hours, surrounded by clothes everywhere. My suitcase is open in front of me, but I still can’t figure out what to pack and what to leave behind. It’s not like this is my first time traveling to the Maldives, but I also don’t know how long I’ll be staying there.

“This is absurd…” I whisper to myself, as my fingers fiddle with the hem of a T-shirt I’ve already folded more than five times.

Jota lifts his head from his bed, deliberately placed next to the sofa, and looks at me intently, as if he’s genuinely expecting me to keep talking and tell him all my secrets.

This week has been crazy. Ever since I got the call from my dad on Monday, I’ve had to come up with a plan that would let me leave as soon as possible. My dad told me that everyone at the resort is pitching in, but Miriam wants me there to help her with the preparations, and I can’t argue with that—a wedding is a wedding, no matter how small and intimate it may be.

“And especially miles away from your natural habitat.”

“Come on, it can’t be that hard to pack a suitcase,” I continue, picking up one of the many dresses piled up on my left side. “It’s just clothes, nothing more. Choose what’s most practical. It’s not like you’re going to meet the king.”

Jota tilts his head to one side, and I let out a deep, heavy sigh, setting the dress aside onto a pile that’s already starting to collapse. “Just like my head.” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the Maldives, about the memories of that trip. About the humid heat that made the sand stick to my skin. About the blinding glare of the sun as it hit the water. About the constant, rhythmic sound of the sea crashing against the sand. And, above all, about her.

I close my eyes for a second and try to push the memories of Barbara away; her dark, wavy hair in the sunlight, her laughter and the sparkle in her eyes, the way her cheeks would flush.