Never Yours Again Novels & Stories

Eliana The voices of the people around me faded into white noise as I stared out the window, my mind no longer in the present but in the past. I thought back to the day it all started,my hatred for Melissa. EIGHT YEARS AGO. I laid in bed, my phone in hand as I read the same four words over and over again. “I'm sorry but I don't think we would work out, I love someone else I know it isn't fair that it's your sister but… I hope you understand, have a nice life.”

"I'm okay. Just surface stuff." He caught my hand, voice rough. "I should've found you sooner." "It's not too late." I leaned into his shoulder. "This time, we found each other." In my past life, after they locked me up, it was nothing but pain. Following Simon's orders, the inmates used cold tools to destroy my uterus. When the prison doctor told me I'd never have kids, I didn't cry—I was already empty. Then chaos exploded outside. "Mr. Johnston! You can't go in!"

He took a step forward, as if to protest—but I met his eyes with steady silence. Then, with cold finality, I said: "Never show yourself to me again."

Saying he loved me. Dante deleted it without answering. “You’re not going home tonight,” he said. “Maybe not tomorrow either. We’re not done. And even when we do send you back, you’re going to walk into that house still feeling us. Still aching. Still wet. And every time he touches you you’re going to remember how much better it feels when we take what we want.” Vince pushed two fingers into my ass while Dante spoke, curling them, stretching me open again. “And if you ever forget, we have the photos. The videos. Everything. One message and your whole life burns.”

“I’ll tell you all about it next time.” “Where are you headed to now?” “Home,” I said as I looked up to admire the fireworks with a smile on my face. “My own home.” Home was the 430-square-foot apartment with beautiful flowers blooming at the balcony, fresh pasta in the fridge, and a book I was halfway through on the coffee table. I used to think that it was miserable to live there all alone, spend the new year alone, and face a new year alone. Yet now, I found it great.

My sister, Nancy Wood, wanted to be the family's only child, so my mother had my name changed and handed my identification documents over to my grandmother. She even told me I had to pay for everything if I wanted to live under their roof. The change and coupons Nancy got from her shopping were the sole source of allowance I'd get. If she saved 30 dollars from her shopping trips, I would get 30 dollars next month. It was the last day for all students to enter their applications for college. I begged my sister to let me use her computer. She extended her hand. "You have to pay me 20 bucks." I fished all the money out of my pocket. I only had 19 dollars. So, I hastily blurted in a panic, "I

he hammered, “yes, and I'll be glad to never see you again" ‎ ‎"Deal." ‎ ‎"Deal." ‎

In the video, it was the anniversary of our fourth year of marriage. I smiled at the camera, gentle and content, and thanked him for all the care and patience he had shown me throughout our marriage. I also gave him the original design sketch for "Eternal Heart”, telling him that all of my feelings for him were written into that drawing. He smiled gently and told me that by our next anniversary, he would turn the sketch into a real piece and give it to me. At the end of the video, I smiled into the camera. "It's all over, Corleone. I wish you and Lilia happiness. From this day forward, we'll never see each other again."

And I realized I liked that gaze very much—and the person behind it even more. I started the car again. In the rearview mirror, Samantha finally picked up the shredded ticket and limped away into the street corner. Snow began to fall. Celine turned on the heater, and soft Christmas music played through the car speakers. I pressed the accelerator, watching her face glow gently in the snowlight, and suddenly understood—true rebirth is not revenge, but learning how to plant flowers in the ruins. This time, I could finally say it without hesitation. Goodbye. And never again.

Instead, I told him I had made my decision. He argued for a while. When I didn’t change my mind, he gave in. “It’ll be over in two weeks,” he promised. “Only the project organizers will know about the arrangement. I won’t let it affect our marriage.” Somehow, that made me a little better. Martha was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a parcel in her hands. Her eyes went straight to my face. “This came earlier,” she said. I recognized the record dealer’s label. It was the third gift I had planned for William. A first pressing of his favorite jazz album. We danced to it every year on his birthday. Finding a copy with the original sleeve intact had taken me months.