At 45, I lost all I owned. My spouse deceived me along with my closest friend, my job laid me off, and I spent all of my last strength wailing on the toilet floor. At that point, I decided to purchase a one-way ticket to Argentina. The numerous obstacles altered my life permanently.

Sitting on the chilly wooden floor of my empty apartment, I felt as if my entire life was crumbling apart.

How could things have gone so wrong?

Everything I had meticulously created over the years had disintegrated in an instant: my work, my friends, and, most tragically, the person I loved. He deceived me.

How could he? How could my best buddy have done such damage to me? Had all these years been in vain and empty?

They chuckled behind my back, and I didn’t even notice…

My mind couldn’t deal with the hurt and treachery. A dark and terrible divorce procedure loomed ahead of me, like a storm about to pour rain.

I would now use all the money I had saved for our future to cover attorneys’ fees, court costs, and property distribution.

How did this situation even occur? How did I get myself here, alone and without a plan for the future?

Tears welled up in my throat, but I didn’t have the energy to weep. I was too tired, too spent, to withstand the flood of misery that was crushing down on me from all sides.

All of my ambitions and aspirations vanished like dust. What should I do now? Is there any value in fighting?

The phone rang, jolting me out of my deep thoughts.

“Hello, Sophia,” my lawyer said over the phone, his voice clean and dispassionate. “I’ve reviewed your case, and we need to discuss a few important details.”

The words poured over me, as if he were speaking in another language.

Could you please clarify what they are expecting from me? Fight? For what? Why?

I felt a weird sensation developing inside me—a yearning to flee, to escape.

“Sophia, are you listening?” My lawyer’s voice jolted me back into reality.

“Yes, I’m listening,” I responded, but I no longer wanted to settle anything. “Mark,” I said, “I don’t want any of it anymore. Allow him to take anything he wants. “I don’t care.”

I could almost hear him sigh on the other end of the telephone, knowing there was no use in fighting with me.

“Okay, I’ll take care of it,” he finally said.

“Thank you,” I said quietly and hung up, feeling nothing.

What happens now? I couldn’t remain here, in this lifeless room full of ghosts from the past. I opened my laptop and began searching for tickets.

Argentina. Far away. The distance is truly immense.

Without hesitation, I clicked the button to purchase a one-way ticket. I wasn’t sure what awaited me there. But something told me that was just what I needed.

I needed to disappear. As soon as I landed in Argentina, I headed to the beach, captivated by the sound of the waves. I sat there with my bag at my side, looking out at the infinite horizon.

I closed my eyes and let the sound of the water soothe my racing mind.

What happens now? How should I proceed from this point?

Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the sand. I opened my eyes and noticed a lady approaching me. She wore a pleasant smile and sympathetic eyes.

“Hola,” she said, her voice soft. “Are you alright?”

I paused, then startled myself by beginning to talk.

“I’m… I do not know. I just got here.” I am not sure what I’m doing.”

She introduced herself as Violetta and sat next to me, listening as I explained everything.

For illustrative purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She didn’t interrupt, just nodded and listened, and it felt wonderful to let it all out.

After I finished, she surprised me with an offer.

“You can stay with me for a while,” she continued, her voice soft and compassionate. “Until you figure things out.”

I stared at her, shocked by the stranger’s compassion. “Thank you.”

Violetta was really helpful over the following several days, showing me around and helping me adjust to my new life. With her assistance, I was able to secure employment at a little beach bar nearby.

The task was simple: serve beverages and clean tables. But it kept my mind occupied, which was just what I required.

After a hard day of work, I was cleaning the bar and spotted Martín, one of the regulars, lingering close.

He had a warm, welcoming grin that made him immediately approachable. He approached me with the same relaxed attitude I had come to expect.

“Hey, Sophia,” he murmured, nonchalantly leaning against the bar. “You’re doing an excellent job here. Everyone has been commenting on how fast you have settled in.”

I grinned, feeling proud. “Thank you, Martín. It’s been a good diversion, you know?”

“Sometimes that’s all you need.”

We stood in comfortable stillness for a bit, listening to the distant waves. Martín’s eyes brightened up, as if he had just realized something.

“Have you ever tried tango?” he inquired.

“Tango? No, I haven’t tried it. I’m not an excellent dancer, to be honest.”

“Well, you’re in Argentina now, so you should try it at least once. Shall I educate you? Right now, right now.

I paused, feeling a little shy. “I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.”

He grinned and waved off my anxiety.

“Don’t worry! It is not about being good! It’s about connecting with the music, letting go, and having fun. Come on, it will be just us.”

His passion was contagious, and I found myself nodding before I even realized it.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Martín directed me to a tiny space near the bar, where sand meets concrete. The evening was pleasant, with the sky painted pink and orange as the sun sank over the water.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” he whispered, gently holding my hand. “Simply relax and follow my guidance. Tango is all about connection, so simply feel the beat and believe me.”

He started moving gently, taking me through the fundamental moves. His hand remained steady on my back.

“See?” You’re doing fantastic.”

“This is actually… fun.”

Martín chuckled and gently spun me before drawing me back in. “I told you!” And you are a natural.”

As I gathered my breath, my gaze returned to the bar, and that’s when I noticed her. Violetta stood at the doorway, observing us.

She appeared cool, even condemning. It was the first time I’d seen her so cold, and it sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t shake the sensation that something had gone awry.

***

My time in Argentina seemed like a step toward recovery.

The rhythm of the tango, the warmth of the sun, and the basic regularity of work all made me feel like life was slowly returning to me.

However, something else began to alter.

Violetta, who had been so friendly and inviting when I initially came, started to alter. I couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but I felt a growing distance between us.

One night, I got home late. But when I reached the house, I discovered something that made my heart sink: my stuff was scattered outside the door.

I knocked, thinking there was a mistake. However, Violetta’s attitude was chilly when she opened the door.

“You need to leave,” she replied without explanation.

“Violetta, what’s happening?” Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve seen your relationship with Martín.” “I can’t have you here anymore.”

The understanding hit me like a blow in the stomach. She regarded me as a competitor who could divert Martín’s attention away from her.

She closed the door without saying another word.

I spent the night at the beach, the waves breaking quietly in the background while I lay on the sand, feeling the familiar pain of betrayal.

My spouse came first, followed by Violetta. It seemed inevitable that those I trusted would abandon me.

The next morning, I went to the bar, intending to find consolation at work, only to be informed by the manager that my skills were no longer required.

It seemed as if my world was shattering all over again.

With no other alternatives, I realized I had to let go of the past entirely.

I grabbed all of my jewelry and luxury dresses—the final traces of my previous life—and carried them to the local market. Selling them raised enough money to start afresh.

With the money I made, I rented a little plot of land from an elderly guy on the opposite side of the island. I wanted to avoid Martín, the bar, and everything that reminded me of my recent grief.

As I handed over the money, the old guy looked at me with a serious face.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I did. That is why I am here. I simply want to start afresh, away from everything.”

He smiled softly and nodded, as if he already knew my story.

“This land will provide for you, but you must give something in exchange. It’s more than simply planting crops; it’s about planting yourself and allowing your roots to grow deep. Are you prepared for that?

I gazed around the tiny amount of land. There were no distractions or recollections of what had happened. It was a blank canvas.

The old man gestured for me to follow him. We strolled over the area, and he pointed out several locations where the soil was rich and the sun shone just so.

“Here,” he remarked, pausing near a large tree-covered space.

“Here is where you will meditate. It’s critical to find peace, to listen to the earth and oneself.”

I scowled slightly, unaccustomed to such thoughts.

“Meditate?” I’ve never really done that before.”

He chuckled, making a sound similar to the rustle of leaves.

“It’s not about doing things properly or badly. It is about being present. Sit here every day, close your eyes, and breathe. Let go of your ideas and anxieties. You will discover that the solutions you seek are already inside you.

“Do you believe that will assist me?” After everything…” The elderly guy turned to me.

“You’ve experienced upheaval, but it doesn’t mean you can’t recover. Trust yourself and this place. It will heal you the same way you would care for it.”

“I’ll try.” The old man nodded and placed a soothing hand on my shoulder. “That’s all you have to do.” Just try. “The rest will come in time.”

As I began working on the farm, following his counsel, I discovered a sense of serenity in the routine. Every day, I meditated in the shaded location he had showed me, allowing the stillness to creep into my spirit.

But this tranquility was broken much too quickly.

The elderly guy became ill unexpectedly. His once invincible power began to wane before my eyes.

I spent several hours by his side, holding his hand and providing whatever comfort I could. But deep inside, I knew his time was approaching.

One evening, as the sun began to set, he addressed me by name. His voice sounded feeble.

“Sophia, I have something for you.”

He gave me the letter, his hand quivering slightly.

“Read this after I leave.” This letter is my final present to you.”

“Thank you,” I said softly, my voice halting in my throat. “For everything.”

He offered me a tiny, exhausted grin.
“You’ve given me more than you know,” he responded, softly stroking my hand. “Now, it’s time for you to continue the journey on your own.”

That night, he died quietly in his sleep. The loss struck me hard, leaving an emptiness.

After the burial, I sat in the silence of my modest house, clutching the letter he had given me.

The letter was brief, yet every word contained the weight of his wisdom.

“You are ready not only to absorb knowledge and insight but also to share them with others. Remember our people’s old legend: the soul, like a seed, will only flourish when irrigated with love and trust. True pleasure occurs when you are willing to plant that seed in someone else’s soil and watch it bloom.”

That was a call to live fully, with an open heart.

As daylight neared, I awoke with an odd but overwhelming sense that I wanted to accomplish something significant. I couldn’t ignore my heart’s cry. I walked to the ocean, where I used to spend time with Martin.

As I approached the coast, I noticed Martín standing there, his shadow defined by the first rays of the sun.

We did not exchange a single word. None was required.

We just stood there staring at each other, joined by an unsaid understanding.

Then, without thinking, we started dancing. The waves’ beat became our soundtrack, as did the soft sand beneath our feet on the dance floor.

As the light rose higher, I felt a deep feeling of tranquility that wasn’t dependent on anybody else’s acceptance or expectations.

I was no longer worried about being criticized or making people uncomfortable. This inner serenity opened up a new road for me, one in which I could go without doubt or fear.

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