Never Again Until You

Lisa POV

I held the bouquet so tightly in my hand the stems bit into my palm.

White lilies. His favorite.

The elevator chimed open on the top floor, and I stepped into the hallway that still smelled faintly of lemon and cedarwood—our signature scent. My heels clicked softly against the marble as I made my way to our penthouse door, heart fluttering with nervous excitement.

Seven years married today.

I had the champagne chilling in a bag; a small gift box tucked inside my coat pocket. It wasn’t much—a leather watch engraved with “Forever, L.”—but it came with the kind of love that only survives storms. Or so I thought.

I didn’t tell Travis I was coming home early from the conference in Chicago. I wanted to surprise him. Candlelight, music, wine… a night just for us. A night to remember why we started, why we stayed, why we still said “I do” when the world gave us reasons not to.

The key slid into the lock like it always had—smooth, familiar.

Inside, the lights were off. Quiet. Too quiet.

I smiled to myself. Maybe he was sleeping. Or maybe he’d planned a surprise for me too.

“Travis?” I called softly, toeing off my shoes at the door.

No answer.

I placed the champagne on the counter and made my way through the living room. A single lamp was on in the hallway that led to our bedroom—its amber light pooling beneath the door. I felt my heart lift.

He had planned something.

I was already smiling, reaching for the handle, when I heard it.

A sound that didn’t belong to silence.

A gasp.

And then—

His voice. Low. Familiar. Whispering.

Then a moan.

Her moan.

It didn’t register at first. My brain tried to rewrite the moment, to twist it into something logical. Maybe he was watching something. Maybe he was talking to someone on the phone. Maybe—

Another moan. Louder. Followed by a breathless laugh.

Her laugh.

My blood turned to ice.

No. Not her. Not that voice.

I gripped the doorknob and flung the door open without thinking.

The bouquet fell from my hand.

The room smelled like sex and lies.

And in the soft glow of our bedside lamp, I saw my husband—my husband—on top of Melody, my best friend, the woman who had stood beside me as maid of honor on this very day seven years ago.

He froze.

She gasped.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just… stared.

Because there are moments in life that split you. Clean down the middle. One moment you’re whole, and the next, you’re watching your soul break apart in slow motion.

“Lisa—” Travis started, scrambling for the sheet.

I held up a hand. “Don’t.”

Melody pulled the covers up to her chest, her lips parted, face flushed and guilty. She didn’t look sorry. Not really. Just caught.

“I came home early to surprise you,” I whispered. “Our anniversary.”

“I—I thought you were—” he stammered.

“Gone? I was. But I wanted to celebrate us.” I looked around the room, my voice cracking. “Clearly, you celebrated differently.”

I could feel my legs trembling. My heart was racing, but my face felt numb, cold.

Melody opened her mouth. “Lis, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean to end up naked in my bed with my husband?” I snapped. “Do you know how cliché you are right now?”

Tears blurred the edges of my vision, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

I turned away, swallowing the scream that clawed at my throat.

Behind me, Travis stood, calling my name again. I didn’t listen.

I walked back through the apartment that had once been my dream and now felt like a crime scene.

I grabbed the champagne bottle, twisted the cork, and popped it. The sound echoed through the empty kitchen. A single glass sat on the counter.

I poured it, took a long sip, then dumped the rest down the drain.

Then I grabbed my shoes, my purse, and walked out the door—without looking back.

That was the last night I called Travis my husband.

The night love died.

I didn’t cry until I got to the elevator.

Even then, I wasn’t sure if it was sadness or rage that made my chest convulse. I hit the button so hard my thumb throbbed. The doors closed with a metallic sigh, swallowing me whole, and I collapsed against the mirrored wall, arms wrapped tight around myself like I could hold the pieces together.

But I couldn’t.

I slid down to the floor in my designer coat and heels, my heart pounding in my ears. The kind of hurt I felt wasn’t loud—it was silent, suffocating. A betrayal that strangled instead of screamed.

How could they?

How could he?

How could she?

Melody. My sister in everything but blood. The woman who held my hand through my mother's funeral. The one who picked out my wedding dress and helped plan every detail. She toasted our love at the reception.

And all along, she was waiting to taste it for herself.

The elevator dinged.

I stood up fast, like I hadn’t just come undone between the walls. Like I hadn’t just watched my marriage—and a decade-long friendship—go up in flames. I walked out with my head held high and my insides falling apart.

Outside, the city was buzzing like it always did. Cars, sirens, laughter in the distance. Life, uncaring and unaware.

I walked. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I couldn’t go home. Not to that bed. Not to those walls.

I ended up at a late-night diner two blocks away. The kind that smelled like burnt coffee and old memories. I sat in a booth by the window, ordered nothing but a black coffee, and stared out at the city lights while they blurred behind my tears.

My phone buzzed.

Travis.

I watched it ring until it stopped. He tried again. Again. Ten times. Then Melody. I blocked them both.

And that’s when I made the promise.

Right there in a cracked leather booth with bitter coffee burning my throat, I made a vow stronger than the one I said at the altar.

I will never let anyone make a fool of me again.

No more blind trust. No more begging to be seen, to be loved.

No more “forever.”

Love was a pretty lie wrapped in gold bands and empty promises.

And I was done chasing it.

Next time someone tried to love me—they’d have to bleed for it.