A swim in the sea
Ethan
We ran across the sand like teenagers fleeing the world. And maybe we were. Fleeing the pressure, the lies, the threats, the invisible contracts that bind us without us realizing it.
Diana looked at the sea and took a deep breath.
"I had no idea how much I needed this…" she said, her feet still sinking into the wet sand.
"Me neither. I just know that, for a while, I want to be where I can only hear the sound of the sea and the sound of your laughter."
She looked at me with that crooked, provocative little smile.
"That was cheesy, you know?"
"And it worked?"
She shrugged, but moved closer and hugged me around the waist.
"It did work, you idiot."
We stayed there for a while, embraced, with the wind blowing and the sun setting on the horizon. It was all simple. Simple and perfect.
Then, we went to a small inn just a few meters from the sand. A simple but cozy place. It wasn't luxurious, but it had a veranda with a hammock, a room with a wooden window, and that wonderful smell of a place near the sea. We checked in and went upstairs with our backpacks.
In the room, Diana took off her sweatshirt and was left only in denim shorts and a top. I stood there, watching her every move, as if she were a movie I didn't want to miss a single second of.
"Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to shower with me?" she teased, slowly taking off her shirt.
"My God…" I murmured. "I thought paradise was a place. But it's you."
She laughed, shaking her head and going into the bathroom.
We showered together, but there was no rush, no urgency. It was slow, intimate, full of affection. The warm water running down our bodies, the soft touches, the kisses on the shoulder, the nape of the neck, the lips.
Then, I dried her hair with a towel while she laughed, saying I was ruining her hairbrush.
We put on light clothes—she in a simple dress and I in shorts and a t-shirt—and went down to dinner at a rustic little restaurant that had candlelight on each table and the smell of fresh fish.
We ate laughing, talking about everything and nothing. About childhood, about embarrassing moments at work, about bad movies we love.
"When I was a child, I thought the moon followed me," she said, laughing.
"I thought if you ate watermelon seeds, one would grow inside your stomach."
"My God, how silly," she laughed.
"But today I know that what was born inside me was you."
She looked at me with a mixture of mockery and tenderness.
"You're impossible today, Ethan."
"I'm in love, Diana."
She was quiet. And I let her be. I didn't force it. Because true love also means giving space.
After dinner, we went back to the room. We opened the window, letting the breeze in. She lay on my chest, and we stared at the ceiling.
"Do you think we'll work out?" she asked suddenly.
"I think we already are."
"And if everything goes wrong?"
"We'll try again."
She took a deep breath, as if she wanted to memorize that answer.
"I like how you make me feel," she said softly.
"And I like who I am when I'm with you."
We kissed again. Slowly. Without haste. Just for the pleasure of feeling.
And there, lying in an unfamiliar bed, listening to the sound of the sea through the window, I came to a conclusion: it didn't matter where we were, what we had faced, or what was to come. I loved this woman. And she completed me in a way that no one else ever could.
That night, we made love again. But it wasn't just desire, it was connection. As if each touch was a silent conversation. As if each moan said: "I'm here, with you."
Afterwards, she fell asleep in my arms. And I stayed awake just to look at her. Because sometimes, paradise isn't a beach, or a sunset, or a beautiful place.
Sometimes, paradise has a name. And mine was called Diana.
I woke up with the sun streaming through the crack in the curtain. The smell of the sea still lingered in the air, and the sound of the waves seemed to lull Diana's peaceful breathing as she slept clinging to me, with one leg over mine.
It was perfect. I swear I thought about turning off my cell phone. I just wanted a few more hours there, in silence, with her. But it vibrated again. I sighed and picked up the phone from the nightstand.
"Mom?" I answered, my voice still hoarse with sleep.
— Ethan! Good morning, my son. Did you sleep well?
— Yes, I did, I'm great.
— And where are you? Because I called home and no one answered.
— I'm traveling. I left at the last minute.
— Hm… alone?
I smiled, already expecting the question.
— No. I'm with the woman of my life.
— Diana? The one from the birthday dinner?
— The same one.
There was a pause on the other end, and I could already imagine my mother putting her hand on her chest with that knowing smile.
— I knew it! You two are so perfect together, Ethan. Since dinner, it was clear there was something there. You couldn't take your eyes off her.
— You were right, Mom. I love Diana.
— Are you serious?
— Very serious. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She makes me feel light, makes me laugh, makes me think. "Oh, my son…" she sighed on the other end. "Then, take care of her as she deserves. Because when a woman like that enters a man's life, he should be grateful for her existence."
I looked at Diana, still sleeping, her face serene and her hair spread across the pillow.
"Don't worry. I won't let her get away."
I hung up the phone and stayed there, just watching her breathe. She was the woman of my life. And this time, I knew: it wasn't an exaggeration, it wasn't an impulse. It was real love. The kind you feel only once. And you do everything to keep it.