Overwater bungalows, gently swaying palm trees, and the ocean stretching endlessly ahead of us, like nothing bad could ever happen here. Findlay was already at the pool, and I was sitting on the terrace, sunglasses on, a cold drink in my hand. I wasn't really looking around. I didn't notice that, on the other side of the beach, a few bungalows away, Lando was walking by. That Magui was laughing next to him, sunlight catching in her hair. That Pietra Pilao, Magui's best friend-and Max's girlfriend-was there too. And Max Fewtrell, Lando's best friend. They didn't see me either. For a moment, all of us were in the same paradise, carrying the same past-but on different timelines. Two stories existing side by side, unaware of each other. Findlay looked back at me from the water. "You're smiling,” he said. “That doesn't happen often lately." I smiled even more. "Maybe because, for once, I'm not thinking about anything." And it was true. In that moment, there was no past. No Lando. No Magui. No fan opinions or misunderstood narratives. Just the sun, the water, and the promise of a new year. Ironic, isn't it? How fate tends to strike the moment you finally believe you're safe. But no one knew yet. Not yet. The Maldives continued to sway in its calm, while the meeting slowly-inevitably-drew closer, like a wave you can't see yet, but already feel coming.