“What?”
“That they didn’t even notice I was disappearing. They didn’t even notice I was there, except when they needed me. I was invisible for years, and they never cared.”
Paula stopped and took my arm.
“Celia, look at me. You’re not invisible. They chose not to see you. There’s a huge difference. And the fact that they couldn’t see your worth doesn’t mean you don’t have it.”
Her words hit me hard. I felt the tears coming, but this time I didn’t stop them. I let them fall freely while the sound of the waves accompanied them.
Paula hugged me. She didn’t say anything else. She just held me while I cried out years of accumulated pain.
When I finally pulled away, I wiped my tears and looked at the horizon. The sun was touching the water now, creating a path of light on the waves.
“Thank you,” I said to Paula.
“What for?”
“For seeing me. For being here. For not judging me.”
“That’s what real friends do.”
We returned to the house when it was already getting dark. Paula made tea and we sat on the terrace wrapped in light blankets, listening to the constant sound of the sea. We didn’t talk much. There was no need. The company was enough.
That night I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. There were no nightmares, no anxiety—just a deep and restorative rest.
Christmas Eve dawned bright and warm. I woke up to the sound of seagulls and the smell of fresh coffee coming from the kitchen. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. Then it all came back to me.
I was far away. I was free. I was choosing myself for the first time in decades.
I got up slowly, without rushing. Paula was already in the kitchen, making breakfast—toast, fresh fruit, orange juice.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?”
