We Were Never Here Novels & Stories

When we finally broke apart, he grinned down at me. “Good,” he murmured. “Because you’re mine forever.” I smiled through my tears, tracing my fingers over his jaw. “And you’re mine.” As the city buzzed beneath us, as Logan held me close, I knew—with absolute certainty—that this was our happy ending.

There would never be an us in this lifetime. We weren't good for each other.

Just wanted out. But as we brushed past each other, a wave of dizziness hit me. I stumbled. Bradley reached out on reflex. I turned away. The ultrasound slipped from my hand and fluttered to the floor.

Ivory raised an eyebrow and mocked, "You should've locked your door if you wanted to do something so shameful. Besides, this is my home. Why should I knock?" Wilson didn't answer. He gracefully tucked himself back into his pants, his eyes still devoid of emotion. "Did you need something from me, Ms. Ivory?" Ivory smiled bitterly. She knew nothing would come out of this, but she still said stubbornly, "Take me away from here, Wilson. Let's leave together and go far, far away. Let's go somewhere where no one will find us." The lights were off in the room, so Wilson didn't see the broken look of despair in her eyes. Or perhaps he did see it but just didn't care.

Henry shouted, "No! Yelena, I will never divorce you! And the child—why did you never tell me about it?" His voice trembled as he spoke. He was probably regretting it, but what was the use of regret? We could never go back. No matter how hard he tried, it was over. "I will never agree to a divorce!" Henry insisted. "Don't joke with me. This isn't funny at all." So, he thought I was joking.

And I was never, ever taking that for granted again. **THE END**

Not ever. ---

The plane was on the way, ready to land in Preuton. It was a seaside city I'd always longed for but never been to. It was a place with no Monica, no Gurney, and no suffocating gossips. Through the wide cabin window, the plane sliced through the clouds, and suddenly, I remembered that night from six years ago. Monica stood downstairs at my apartment, soaked to the bone in the torrential rain as she confessed to me.

Something alive. And I was never going back.

We didn’t look away from each other. We never would again.