I was in search of peace and a new beginning, wanting to heal from my past when I arrived on the island. But instead, I found HIM—attractive, attentive, and everything I didn’t know I needed. But just when I began to believe in a new start, a single moment shattered everything.
Even though I had spent decades there, my living room felt like someone else’s. At 55 years old, I was staring at the open suitcase, wondering how my life had come to this point.
“How did we get here?” I said to the broken glass “Forever & Always” in my hand, before tossing it aside.
I ran my hand over the couch. “Goodbye Sunday coffees and pizza debates.”
Memories filled my mind like unwanted guests I couldn’t shake off. In the bedroom, the emptiness hit harder. The other side of the bed stared at me like an accusation.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered. “It wasn’t all my fault.”
The packing turned into a hunt for things that still had value. The laptop sat on the table like a light of hope.
“At least you remain,” I said, touching it.
After two years of work, my novel was inside. It wasn’t finished, but it was mine—a proof that I wasn’t completely lost.
Then Lana’s email arrived:
“Creative retreat. Warm island. New beginning. Summer.”
“Sure, summer,” I laughed.
Lana always knew how to make disasters look appealing. The idea seemed reckless, but wasn’t that exactly the point?
I looked at the flight confirmation. The inner voice was relentless.
What if I hate it? Or they hate me? What if I jump into the sea and get eaten by sharks?
But another thought crept in.
What if I like it?
I took a deep breath and closed the suitcase. “Cheers to leaving.”
I wasn’t leaving. I was running toward something.
The island greeted me with a warm breeze and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the shore. For a moment, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, letting the salty air fill my lungs.
This was exactly what I needed.
But the peace didn’t last. When I approached the retreat, the calm was replaced by loud music and boisterous laughter. People in their twenties and thirties sprawled on colorful beanbags, drinks in hand that looked more like cocktails than juice.
“This is hardly a monastery,” I whispered.
A group near the pool laughed so loudly it disturbed a bird in a nearby tree. I let out a growl.
Creative progress, huh, Lana?
Before I could retreat back into the shadows, Lana appeared with a slanted sun hat and a margarita in hand.
“Thea!” she shouted, as if we hadn’t just exchanged emails yesterday. “You made it!”
“I’m already regretting it,” I whispered, but put on a smile.
“Oh, stop,” she waved me off. “The magic is here! Believe me, you’ll love it.”
“I wish it was quieter,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Lies! You need to meet people and feel the energy! Speaking of which,” she pulled me by the hand, “I have someone you need to meet.”
Before I could object, she dragged me through the crowd. I felt like an ordinary mom at a school party, trying not to trip over scattered sandals.
We stopped in front of a man who, without exaggeration, looked like he came from a GQ cover. Sun-kissed skin, a calm smile, and a white silk shirt open enough to be alluring but not scandalous.
“Thea, this is Eric,” Lana said enthusiastically.
“Nice to meet you, Thea,” he said, his voice as soft as the sea breeze.
“Likewise,” I said, hoping my nervousness wasn’t obvious.
Lana smiled like she had arranged a royal engagement. “Eric is a writer too. He’s been waiting to meet you ever since I told him about your novel.”
My cheeks flushed. “It’s not finished.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Eric said. “The fact you’ve worked on it for two years… that’s incredible! I’d love to hear more.”
Lana stepped back and smiled. “You two talk. I’m off for more margaritas!”
I looked at her nervously. But after a few minutes, whether from Eric’s undeniable charisma or the magical sea air, I agreed to take a walk.
“Give me a moment,” I said, surprising even myself.
In my room, I pulled out my best sundress.
Why not? If they were going to attract me, I’d better look good.
When I came out, Eric was waiting. “Ready?”
I smiled and tried to look calm, though my stomach was twisting. “Lead the way.”
He showed me parts of the island untouched by the chaos of the retreat. A hidden beach with a rope hanging from a palm tree, a secret path that led to a cliff with breathtaking views—places not in any guidebook.
“You’re really good at this,” I said, laughing.
“At what?” he asked, sitting next to the sand.
“Making someone forget they’re completely out of place.”
His smile widened. “Maybe you’re not as much of a stranger as you think.”
As we talked, I laughed more than I had in months. He shared stories from his travels and his love for literature, which matched mine. His admiration for my novel seemed genuine, and when he joked about framing my autograph one day, I felt a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time.
But beneath that laughter, something unsettled me. A faint unease I couldn’t explain. He seemed perfect—too perfect.
The next day began with high energy. I lay down, my mind full of ideas for the next chapter.
“Today’s the day,” I whispered, reaching for the laptop.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, but when the desktop opened, my heart stopped. The folder with the novel—two years of sweat and work—was missing. I checked every corner of the hard drive, hoping I had deleted it by mistake. Nothing.
“Strange,” I said to myself.
The laptop was there, but the most important part of my work had vanished without a trace.
“Okay, don’t panic,” I whispered, holding the table. “You probably deleted it by accident.”
But I knew I hadn’t. I rushed out of the room and went to Lana’s. As I passed the hallway, I heard low voices. I stopped, my heart pounding. I approached slowly. The door to the next room was slightly open.
“We just need to introduce it to the right publisher?” he asked.
My tongue went cold. Eric’s voice was unmistakable. Through the crack, I saw Lana leaning over, speaking conspiratorially.
“Her manuscript is brilliant,” Lana said sweetly. “We’ll pass it off as mine. She’ll never realize what hit her.”
My stomach churned with anger and betrayal, but worse still—disappointment. Eric, the one who made me laugh, listened to me, and whom I was starting to trust, was part of this.
I left before they saw me and went to my room. I slammed the suitcase, stuffing clothes in without care.
“This was supposed to be my new beginning,” I whispered bitterly.
My eyes blurred, but I refused to cry. Tears are for those who still believe in second chances, and I was no longer one of them.
As I left the island, the blazing sun felt like a cruel joke. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look back. I didn’t need to.
In the following months, the bookstore was full of people. The rows of chairs were filled, and the air was thick with conversations. I stood on the podium, holding a copy of the novel, trying to focus on the smiling faces.
“Thank you for being here tonight,” I said, my voice steady despite the powerful emotions. “This book is the result of years of work and… a journey I didn’t expect.”
The applause was warm, but I felt a deep ache in my chest as I looked at the crowd. The novel was my pride, but the road to success was filled with hardships. Betrayal still followed me.
After the signing line disappeared and the last person left, I sat in a chair in the corner of the shop, tired. Then I saw it—a small folded note on the table.
“You owe me an autograph. Coffee across the street when you have time.”
The handwriting was familiar. My heart twisted. Eric.
I looked at the note, emotions swirling between curiosity, irritation, and something else I wasn’t ready to face.
For a moment, I thought about finishing and leaving. But instead, I whistled, put on my hat, and went for coffee. I saw him immediately.
“You’re brave, leaving me a note like this,” I said, sitting across from him.
“Brave or desperate?” he replied with an ironic smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Neither was I,” I admitted.
“Thea, I have to explain. What happened on the island… At first, I didn’t understand Lana’s motives. She convinced me she was helping you. But when I found out the truth, I stole the flash drive and sent it to you.”
I was silent.
“When Lana involved me, she said you were too modest to publish your novel yourself,” Eric continued. “She said you didn’t believe in your talent and wanted someone to surprise you, push you forward. I thought I was helping.”
“A surprise?” I protested. “That sounds like stealing my work behind my back.”
“At first, I thought so too. But as soon as she told me the truth, I took the flash drive and went to find you, but you had already left.”
“So what I heard wasn’t what it seemed?”
“It wasn’t. Thea, I chose you the moment I understood the truth.”
I calmed down, waiting for the anger I knew. But it wasn’t there anymore. Lana’s manipulations were in the past, and the novel was published by my choice.
“She was always jealous of you, you know,” Eric said softly. “Even at university, she felt defeated. This time she saw a chance and used our trust to take what wasn’t hers.”
“And now?”
“She disappeared. She’s not seen in any place I know. She couldn’t face the consequences after I refused to support her lies.”
“You made the right choice. That’s what matters.”
“Will you give me another chance?”
“A date,” I said, raising my finger. “Don’t mess it up.”
His smile grew wider. “Deal.”
As we left the café, I caught myself smiling. One date became another, then another. Before I knew it, I fell in love. And then, it wasn’t one-sided. What started with betrayal blossomed into a relationship based on understanding, forgiveness, and yes, love.