I arrived on the island seeking tranquility, a new beginning to recover from my past. Instead, I encountered HIM—charming, attentive, and everything I hadn’t realized I needed. But just as I started to believe in fresh starts, a single moment shattered my hopes.
Even though I had spent years there, my living room felt unfamiliar. At 55, I stared at the open suitcase, questioning how my life had led to this point.
“How did we end up here?” I asked the chipped “Forever & Always” mug in my hand before tossing it to the side.
I ran my hand along the sofa. “Goodbye to Sunday coffee and pizza arguments.”
Memories flooded my mind, unwanted visitors I couldn’t evict. In the bedroom, the emptiness struck harder. The other side of the bed looked back at me like an accusation.
“Don’t give me that look,” I muttered. “It wasn’t all my fault.”
Packing became a scavenger hunt for things I still cared about. The laptop remained on my desk like a guiding light.
“At least you stayed,” I said, patting it.
After two years of effort, my novel was inside. It wasn’t finished, but it was mine—proof I wasn’t completely lost.
Then, Lana’s email arrived:
“Creative retreat. Warm island. Fresh start. Wine.”
“Of course, wine,” I chuckled.
Lana had always been skilled at making chaos sound appealing. The idea felt reckless, but wasn’t that the point?
I stared at the flight confirmation. My inner voice was relentless.
What if I hate it? Or they hate me? What if I fall into the ocean and get eaten by sharks?
But then another thought emerged.
What if I enjoy it?
I exhaled and closed the suitcase. “Here’s to escaping.”
I wasn’t fleeing. I was heading toward something.
The island greeted me with a warm breeze and the steady sound of waves crashing. For a moment, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill my lungs.
This is exactly what I needed.
But the calm didn’t last. As I approached the retreat, the peacefulness was replaced by loud music and bursts of laughter. Most people in their 20s and 30s sat on brightly colored beanbags, holding drinks that looked more umbrella than liquid.
“Well, this isn’t exactly a monastery,” I muttered quietly.
A group near the pool burst into loud laughter, startling a bird from a nearby tree. I sighed.
Creative breakthroughs, huh, Lana?
Before I could retreat into the shadows, Lana appeared, her sunhat tilted at a jaunty angle and a margarita in hand.
“Thea!” she shouted, as if we hadn’t emailed just yesterday. “You made it!”
I muttered, “Regretting it already,” but forced a smile.
“Oh, stop,” she said, waving her hand. “This is where the magic happens! Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“I was hoping for something… quieter,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Nonsense! You need to meet people and soak up the energy! Speaking of which,” she grabbed my arm, “I have someone you must meet.”
Before I could protest, she pulled me through the crowd. I felt like a clumsy mom at a high school party, trying not to trip over discarded flip-flops.
We stopped in front of a man who, I swear, looked like he was on the cover of GQ. Tanned skin, a relaxed smile, and a white linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to be suggestive but not sleazy.
“Thea, meet Eric,” Lana said excitedly.
“Nice to meet you, Thea,” he said, his voice as smooth as the ocean breeze.
“Likewise,” I said, hoping my nerves didn’t show.
Lana smiled like she’d just set up a royal match. “Eric’s a writer, too. He’s been eager to meet you ever since I told him about your novel.”
My cheeks blushed. “Oh, it’s not finished.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Eric said. “The fact that you’ve worked on it for two years… that’s impressive! I’d love to hear about it.”
Lana smirked and stepped back. “You two talk. I’ll find more margaritas!”
I watched her go, feeling annoyed. But in minutes, whether it was Eric’s charm or the ocean breeze, I agreed to take a walk with him.
“Give me a moment,” I said, surprising myself.
Back in my room, I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out my nicest sundress.
Why not? If I’m going to be dragged around, I might as well look my best.
When I went outside, Eric was waiting. “Ready?”
I nodded, trying to hide my nervous butterflies. “Lead the way.”
He showed me parts of the island that seemed untouched by the chaos of the retreat. A quiet beach with a swing hanging from a palm tree, a hidden trail leading to a cliff with a stunning view—places not found in any guidebook.
“You’re good at this,” I said, laughing.
“Good at what?” he asked, sitting on the sand nearby.
“Making someone forget they’re completely out of place.”
His smile grew wider. “Maybe you’re not as out of place as you think.”
As we talked, I laughed more than I had in months. He shared stories of his travels and love for books, which matched mine. His admiration for my novel seemed genuine, and when he joked about framing my autograph someday, I felt a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time.
But beneath the laughter, a strange feeling tugged at my mind. An unease I couldn’t explain. He seemed perfect, too perfect.
The next morning started well. I stretched, my mind full of ideas for my next chapter.
“Today’s the day,” I whispered, reaching for my laptop.
My fingers started typing, but when the desktop appeared, my heart stopped. The folder with my novel—two years of hard work, sleepless nights—was gone. I looked everywhere, hoping I had deleted it by mistake. There was nothing.
“That’s odd,” I told myself.
My laptop was there, but my most important work had vanished without a trace.
“Okay, don’t panic,” I whispered, holding the edge of the desk. “Maybe I just deleted it.”
But I knew I hadn’t. I rushed to Lana’s room. Passing the hallway, I overheard muffled voices. I froze, heart pounding. Slowly, I moved toward the sound. The door was slightly open.
“We just need to pitch it to the right publisher?” someone asked.
My blood ran cold. It was Eric’s voice. Peeking inside, I saw Lana leaning in, whispering conspiratorially.
“Her manuscript is brilliant,” Lana said, her voice syrupy. “We’ll figure out how to pass it off as ours. She’ll never know.”
My stomach twisted with anger, betrayal, and something worse—disappointment. Eric, who’d made me laugh, listened, and who I’d started to trust, was part of this.
I turned away before they saw me and went back to my room. I yanked open my suitcase and hurriedly stuffed clothes inside.
“This was supposed to be my new start,” I whispered bitterly.
My vision blurred, but I refused to cry. Crying was for those who still believed in second chances, and I had given up on that.
By the time I left the island, the bright sun felt like a cruel joke. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look back. I didn’t need to.
Months later, I stood at the bookstore event, surrounded by eager audiences. I held a copy of my book and tried to focus on the smiling faces.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I said, my voice steady despite the pain inside. “This book came from years of effort and a journey I never thought I’d take.”
The applause was warm, but I felt a deep ache as I looked at everyone. The novel was my achievement, but the path had not been easy. The betrayal still haunted me.
After everyone left, I sat in a corner, exhausted. I noticed a small folded note on the table.
“You owe me an autograph. Café around the corner when you’re free.”
The handwriting was unmistakable. My heart skipped. Eric.
I looked at the note, feeling a strange mix of curiosity, irritation, and something I wasn’t ready to name.
For a moment, I thought about tearing it up and walking away. Instead, I sighed, grabbed my coat, and headed to the café. I saw him right away.
“You’re brave leaving me a note like that,” I said, sitting across from him.
“Brave or desperate?” he asked with a smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
I admitted, “Neither was I.”
“Thea, I need to explain. What happened on the island… At first, I didn’t realize Lana’s real plans. She convinced me it was to help you. But when I found out what she was really after, I took the flash drive and sent it to you.”
I stayed silent.
“When Lana involved me, she said you were too shy to publish your book yourself,” Eric explained. “She claimed you didn’t believe in your talent and needed someone to surprise you and push it forward. I thought I was helping.”
“A surprise?” I shot back. “You mean stealing my work?”
“That’s what I thought at first. When she told me the truth, I took the flash drive and looked for you, but you had already left.”
“So, what I overheard wasn’t what it seemed?” I asked.
“It wasn’t. Thea, I chose you from the moment I learned the truth.”
I let the silence settle, waiting for anger to rise. But it wasn’t there anymore. Lana’s manipulations belonged to the past, and my novel had been published on my terms.
“She always envied you, you know,” Eric said quietly. “Even back in college, she felt overshadowed. She saw an opportunity and used both our trust to try to take what wasn’t hers.”
“And now?”
“She’s vanished. Disappeared from every circle I know. She couldn’t handle the fallout when I refused to support her lies.”
“You made the right choice. That’s something.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me another chance?”
One finger raised. “Just one date. Don’t mess it up.”
His smile grew broader. “Deal.”
As we left the café, I caught myself smiling. That one date turned into more, then another. Before long, I fell in love. And this time, it was mutual. What started with betrayal grew into a relationship based on understanding, forgiveness, and love.
