Page 90 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

“And isn’t it the same thing?”

She shakes her head gently, without looking away.

“No. Breaking is stopping yourself from feeling. It’s becoming cold, closed off, untouchable. And you, Lidia, still feel so much love for Barbara that it hurts your very soul. That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you brave, even if you don’t believe it right now.”

I bite my lower lip to keep from crying even harder, but it’s no use. The tears keep flowing.

“I’m in love with her,” I finally confess, and the words come out trembling, raw, and inevitable. “I love her so much. More than I’d like to, more than is good for me right now. And I’m afraid to trust again and have everything fall apart again in a few months. I’m afraid to build something with her again and have it end just as badly. I’m afraid to go through another loss, Miriam. I don’t know if I could handle it.”

My voice breaks at the end, as if the words had drained the last of my strength.

She looks at me with those eyes that always seem to know more about life than I do. Then she cups my cheeks with both hands. It’s such a maternal gesture, so full of tenderness, that something inside me gradually loosens, as if her palms could hold my broken pieces together too.

“Love is disgusting,” she says suddenly, with a naturalness that catches me off guard.

I look at her in surprise, crying and laughing at the same time.

“Excuse me?”

“I said love is disgusting. It’s scary, it turns you upside down, it forces you to face your mistakes head-on, and it has a nasty habit of showing up when it’s least convenient, when you’ve already made plans, when you think you’re safe.”

I burst out laughing through my tears.

“That sounds like you’ve been through it too…”

“And who hasn’t?” she replies, laughing too. “We’ve all suffered for love. We’ve all wished we’d never fall in love again. But look at me now,” she says with a smile. “Your father came into my life when I had already decided I would never share my days with anyone again. I was at peace, I had my routine, my quirks, my orderly world… and suddenly that clumsy, sensitive man appeared, and I couldn’t resist.”

Her face lights up when she talks about him, and there’s nothing more beautiful than seeing someone in love.

“And weren’t you afraid?” I ask, my voice still shaky.

“Very much so,” she nods without hesitation. “But I understood that fear doesn’t disappear with time. It doesn’t fade by running away from it. It only shrinks when you decide to live in spite of it, when you choose to move forward, even if your legs are shaking.”

I lower my gaze to our clasped hands. I think of Barbara. Of her gaze that night at the restaurant after Ingrid left, of how she spoke to me and told me the whole truth despite everything. Of the moments we’ve spent together these past weeks. Of that guilt and sadness I saw in her eyes. I think of myself. Of how, despite all the pain, I haven’t stopped searching for her in every corner of the island. Of how I’ve felt her absence, as if an essential part of me had fallen asleep in some corner of her bungalow.

I don’t know why, but in that moment I remember something she once told me, years ago, on a rainy night in Valencia, when we still believed that love was invincible and that nothing could separate us: “You are my home.” At the time, it seemed like an exaggerated phrase to me. Now I understand the real weight it carried. Because the truth is, no matter how hard I’ve tried to build a life away from her, I’ve never felt completely at home anywhere else but in her arms.

Miriam strokes my cheek with her thumb, tenderly wiping away a tear that’s still rolling down.

“You don’t have to decide everything today,” she tells me softly. “Today is my wedding, yes, but it’s also a day to remember that love doesn’t always arrive clean, tidy, and perfect. Sometimes it arrives broken, late, full of mistakes and open wounds. But it’s worth fighting for if it’s real, if you feel that person is still your refuge no matter how complicated the path may be.”

I look at her and my lips tremble.

“What if she hurts me again?”

Miriam sighs softly, without taking her hands off my face.

“Then it will hurt. Of course it will hurt, sweetheart. But at least you won’t spend the rest of your days wondering what would have happened if you’d been brave one more time.”

That. That cuts right through me like a ray of light bursting into a dark room. Because for years I’ve been brave about everything except this. I’ve rebuilt my life after the divorce. I’ve dated other women. I’ve let my relationship with Alex change. I’ve survived the sadness, the disappointment, the nights when I thought I wouldn’t be able to get up. I’ve held myself together when I thought I couldn’t. But loving Barbara is still what makes me feel most vulnerable. And also the most real thing I feel.

I take a deep breath, trying to pull myself together. I wipe my tears with my hands and shake my head, half-laughing at myself.

“Thank you for all of this…”

Miriam smiles, satisfied, with that look of someone who knows she’s hit the nail on the head.

“Don’t thank me. You know I’m here for whatever you need. Even if you don’t ask.”