Dua Lipa and the Secret Love

Yesterday, Past? Future?

17th may 2023

When Dua called again, I could hear it instantly in her voice—she'd been drinking. Not enough to lose herself, but just enough to lower the walls she'd been so carefully holding up. Her laugh, soft and tinged with sadness, cut through the line, but beneath it, there was something else, something simmering just under the surface.

"At the party..." she started, the words stumbling out like they'd been bottled up for too long, "I couldn't stop talking about him. Every single time someone asked me something—anything—it always came back to M.S. It's like he's living inside my head, my heart, my soul. I couldn't help it, even when I tried." There was a quiet intensity in her confession, a truth she couldn't escape no matter how far away she was from him.

I could almost see her, amidst the noise and glamour, surrounded by people but utterly alone, with only thoughts of him filling the space between her and the rest of the world. "I kept saying his name... over and over again. It's like every word, every breath, brings me back to him. It's madness, isn't it? I can't even drink without him creeping into every conversation." Her voice broke slightly on that last word, and for a moment, I thought she might cry.

But then, suddenly, something shifted. I heard a flicker of something different, like a light had turned on in her mind, chasing away the sadness, replacing it with something else. "But I've been thinking..." she said, her voice lowering into a whisper, like she was letting me in on a secret she hadn't shared with anyone else.

"I have an idea." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as if she'd already made up her mind about something monumental. I could feel the shift in her energy, something electric, something dangerous. I pressed her, eager to know what was going through her mind.

"What is it, Dua? Tell me."

She laughed then, a soft, almost mischievous sound. "No, I can't tell you yet. Not now." Her tone was teasing, but I knew her well enough to sense the seriousness beneath it. Whatever this idea was, it was big.

"I've got some things to take care of first," she added, her voice sharpening, a hint of steel creeping into her words. She was focused now, her determination palpable through the phone.

"Dua, what are you planning?" I asked again, feeling the weight of her silence on the other end.

But she was already pulling away, her voice growing distant. "I need to go," she said, the lightness returning to her words, though I could tell her mind was elsewhere, plotting something. "But don't worry... we'll talk soon. I promise."

And with that, the line went dead. But I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever she was planning, it was something big. Something that could change everything.

18th may 2023

When Dua called this time, her voice was laced with a resignation I hadn't heard before. There was something about the way she spoke that told me she was holding on by a thread. "I've been thinking..." she said, the pause in her voice long and heavy. "Maybe I'll start seeing someone new, a filmmaker. Just something casual, you know? Something to distract me from the pain, from how much I miss M.S."

I could feel the weight of her words, but there was a hesitancy, a conflict that she couldn't quite hide. "But the truth is... I'm still thinking about it. Another man in my life feels... impossible. It feels like I'm betraying something sacred. How can I even consider it when my heart is still so completely his?" Her voice faltered, and I knew she was on the edge, her mind tangled in the war between moving forward and holding on.