The Secret Island

I don’t know if he will show up… He once promised he will… back to that day in the summer; he promised he will, he said he would come back to see her again. But when the time passed. Winter came and went, then spring that she loved, and summer came around all over again for the fourth time; she is uncertain of that promise. We only spent two weeks together. Only two weeks Celine spent with him. Only two weeks changed her life. And now she is here. She is back to this small island in the Mediterranean Sea every year for two weeks… just like four years ago, just like those times fate led her to him. He was a tall man who rarely smiled as if he carried the weight of the world. That man… Martin Celine didn’t know much about him, who he truly was, or what he did for a living. She doesn’t even know where in the world he is. But she thinks she knows him. She knows he was a serious and strict but kind person. She knows he rarely smile

Celine should barely realize the time when she found herself in the stranger’s room, a small and simplistically decorated villa similar to the style of its owner. He told her his name was Martin and that I should shower to wash off the seawater. Soon after, one simple white t-shirt and short trousers were handed to her. The clothes were clean; they smelled like a morning in summer. He seemed to be a man of modest means and talked only when necessary. To her, the silence was unbearable, but she didn’t know what she should talk to him about. “How long will you stay on this island? When do you plan to go back?” He asked as soon as he saw her come out of the bathroom. She dried her hair with his gray towel while answering. “Err, two weeks. I planned for a long holiday.” She answered softly. The initial plan of a spontaneous trip alone was more appealing before now when she was alone with only a stranger whom she took a shot at trusting to turn to

Celine kept the doubt. She knew in her heart that she shouldn't ask him. What made Martin look so stressed was probably very personal. And she didn't want to meddle in his personal matters. The king-size bed was so wide and comfortable that she was surprised she was able to wake up early. Perhaps it was because of the sunlight that shone through the windows.She woke up to the smell of the ocean and the gentle breeze from the ajar window. The sound of seagulls chirping was typical for this small town on an island. But then she heard other noises—utensils on pots and pans and something sizzling and boiling from right outside the room. And soon, the smell of the delicious food prompted her to get up from the bed.As Celine walked into the kitchen, she saw a tall man turned his back on her and cooking. He wore a tight workout outfit showing his athletic figure. She guessed that he had just gone jogging in the morning.Martin was still wearing wireless headphones. He cou

“Oh, good morning. You woke up even earlier today. Do you want to sit here with me?” Martin greeted her in this early morning.Celine looked at him suspiciously. He was the kind of person she didn't understand. At times he would be so quiet that she thought he was half mute. Since we are just on good terms, she could tell he was more used to ordering people around rather than being nice to them. And the experience yesterday was kind of odd for her. After eating ice cream together for a while and she told him that she wasn't angry anymore. It was as if Martin had already concluded in his head that she wasn't angry, and he should cease all further effort. Like a switch, his nice kind words spoken in a gentle tone stopped there. We return to speaking normally as if in his head; convincing her to forgive him was like some sort of a mission he had already accomplished. And what he should do was to move on to something else.And that something else was to go back to the villa and work. She

“You accused me of being too quiet, and now you don’t say anything.” Martin made a note of her silence. She stole a glance at him after taking a small bite of a sandwich. He was drying his hair with a towel. After we swam together for a bit, Martin went out and swam separately. He was intensive in his sport as if doing an Olympic practice, leaving her alone to gradually enjoy the cold water. What kind of person is this serious? Celine was deep in thought—a feeling was slowly emerging inside her heart. She didn’t know what it was. The feeling that every attention is drawn to one thing...one person... She suspected it was not an admiration. No, he was not even her type. He was not a charming speaker. He lectured her on everything. How could she like someone like that? “Is it delicious?” Martin asked, and he smiled at her causing her heart to skip a beat again. …But he was kind… Celine shook her head without looking at him but quickly turned away after catching only a glimpse. She