Chapter Two: Catching Feelings by Rosaline Saul
She stared out of the airplane window as it began its
descent over the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean. The island looked like
a paradise—white beaches, clear blue seas, and a world where the sun never
seemed to set on the endless party. It was exactly what she needed. At least,
that was what she kept telling herself.
Ibiza had not been her first choice. She had not planned
this trip at all, not until the night everything unravelled. After months of
suspicion, months of second-guessing her own instincts, Nick’s affair had come
to light. The betrayal was like a knife to the gut, but it was the way he had
manipulated her—twisting her reality to suit his lies—that left her feeling
utterly destroyed.
“Are you sure you’re not imagining things? You always
overreact. Why can’t you just trust me?” His voice was still in her head, his
gaslighting like poison that lingered long after she walked away. Even now,
part of her wanted to believe it was her fault—that if only she had been more
trusting, more forgiving, maybe things would not have ended the way they did.
Deep down, Isabel knew better. She knew Nick had been wrong, yet the scars he
left had burrowed deep into her trust. It was not just him she could not trust
anymore. It was everyone.
The landing was smooth, but her heart was anything but. As
the plane touched down, Isabel felt a knot of anxiety twist inside her. She had
run all the way to Ibiza, and yet, here she was, still nursing the wounds she
thought she could leave behind.
The drive from the airport to her hotel was a blur of palm
trees, whitewashed buildings, and tourists spilling out onto the streets.
Isabel watched it all through the taxi window, her reflection faint against the
backdrop of a world she did not feel part of. The driver had tried to make
small talk—asking her where she was from, how long she would be staying—but she
could barely muster the energy to respond. Her answers were curt, clipped, her
mind still too full of Nick’s lies and the constant replay of their last
argument. As the taxi sped along the coastline, the ocean stretched endlessly
to the right, but even the beautiful views could not shake the heaviness that
had settled in her chest. The island was alive, buzzing with excitement and
carefree joy, yet all Isabel felt was numb. Ibiza was supposed to be a place to
forget, but how could she when everything inside her felt broken?
The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when
Isabel arrived at her hotel, its fading rays casting long shadows across the
island. Her room was small but cozy, a private little space where she could
hide from the world for a while. She tossed her suitcase on the bed and sat
down beside it, letting the quiet envelop her.
It had been her sister’s idea to come here. “Get away from
it all,” she had said.
At the time, Isabel had agreed. She needed distance from the
toxicity that Nick had left in his wake, and Ibiza seemed like a place where
the chaos of her emotions might be drowned out by the island’s ceaseless
energy, but now, sitting alone in this unfamiliar room, the reality of being
here, far from home and everything she knew, felt overwhelming. A part of her
wondered if she had made the right choice.
Isabel rose and walked to the window, looking out at the
sprawling city below. The lights of Ibiza were already flickering to life, and
the thumping bass of distant music floated up from the streets. She felt a
tug—a part of her wanting to dive into the nightlife, to drink and dance until
she could no longer feel. Another part of her, the part still reeling from
months of deception, recoiled.
Nick had done a number on her. She had given him
everything—her trust, her love, her loyalty—and he had repaid her by making her
question her own sanity. The gaslighting had been subtle at first, little
comments here and there, tiny lies that added up until she did not know what
was real anymore.
She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. It was
not just that Nick had cheated. It was the way he had made her feel—like she
could not trust her own instincts, like every doubt she had about him was
somehow her fault. He had twisted her mind so thoroughly that even now, weeks
after walking away, she still doubted herself. Could she ever trust anyone
again?
The thought hung heavy in her chest as she turned away from
the window. Nick had taken that from her—her ability to trust, her belief in
the goodness of people. It was a dark place to be, and Isabel was not sure how
to pull herself out of it.
She sighed and flopped down on the bed, staring up at the
ceiling. Maybe this trip was a mistake. Maybe she was not ready to heal, to
move on.
As the hours stretched on and the city outside grew louder,
she realized it was not that simple. The hurt was not something she could just
leave behind, no matter how far she travelled. The betrayal lingered in the pit
of her stomach, a constant reminder that she could not trust herself anymore,
and if she could not trust herself, how could she trust anyone else?
A fresh wave of bitterness washed over her as she closed her
eyes. Love had failed her. People had failed her. As much as she wanted to
believe that Ibiza was a fresh start, she could not shake the feeling that she
was damaged in a way that no beautiful sunset or night of dancing could fix.
Never again, she thought. I’ll never let anyone make me feel like this again.
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