I was never yours

"Do you even know who you are anymore?" Lisa's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Because I sure don't." Nicky's jaw tightened. Her eyes went cold. "Lisa, stop." "You're too smart to be this dumb, Nicky!" "And yet, here I am." Nicky laughed — a sharp, hollow sound. "How ironic, right?" She turned away, "I'm not doing this with you. Not today. Not again." "But what kind of friend would I be—" Lisa's voice broke. She stopped. Swallowed. Tried again, softer this time. "What kind of friend would I be if I just… stood here and watched you throw your life away?" She crossed the room and stood in front of her. Close enough that Nicky couldn't look away. "I love you. You deserve so much more than this." Something flickered behind Nicky's eyes. Just for a second. Then it died. "Do I?" The words came out soaked in bitterness. "If I deserved more, why am I not getting it?" She grabbed her bag off the chair. "Save the speech. You're wasting your breath — and my time." The door slammed so hard the walls shook. Lisa stood there in the silence. It's like trying to hold onto someone sinking in quicksand. The harder you pull, the faster they go under. She grabbed her keys and ran after her. "Nicky — wait." She caught her just as her hand touched the car door. Nicky stilled but didn't turn around. "He's getting married." Lisa's chest heaved. "You have to let him go." Nicky spun around, eyes blazing. "Are you serious right now? You're making a scene." "Then let me make a scene! You won't listen to reason — what choice do I have?" "Lisa." Nicky's voice dropped to ice. "Mind. Your. Business." "You are my business." Lisa stepped closer, voice cracking. "I hear you crying every single night through that wall. Every. Single. Night. Just leave him. He made his choice — and it wasn't you." "Where do you think I'm going right now?" The words landed like a confession. Nicky's chin lifted. Her eyes glistened — not with shame, but with something far more dangerous. Resignation. "I can't leave him. I love him. And until he stops choosing to be with me, I'll keep showing up. How many times do we have to go over this?" "He's not choosing you, Nicky." Lisa's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "He's using you. And somewhere inside, you already know that." The silence stretched. Then Nicky let out a short, broken laugh. "Of course he is." Her voice was barely above a murmur. "Who would choose me — except to use me, right?" "That is not what I meant—" "It doesn't matter." Nicky shook her head. "It's fine." It wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. Lisa reached for her hand. "I'm not trying to hurt you. Heaven knows you've been hurt enough." Her throat tightened. "But Nicky… he doesn't love you. If he did — if he even could — he wouldn't be putting a ring on someone else's finger. Ten years, Nicky. Ten years, and three kids with three different women. While you waited." "Stop." "While you waited for him—" "I said stop." Nicky's voice shattered on the last word. Her eyes filled. She blinked furiously, fighting it — but losing. "You think I don't know?" Her voice came out raw and ragged. Like something torn. "You think I haven't told myself everything you're telling me — every single day? I've begged. I've prayed. I've pleaded with God to make these feelings just… disappear." A tear slipped down her cheek. She let it fall. "But every time I try to walk away, I run back. Every single time." Her voice dropped to something hollow. "Do you think this is fun for me? Knowing she falls asleep in his arms — in his bed — while I get stolen hours in a hotel room he pays for with a credit card she doesn't know about?" She pressed her fingers to her lips, steadying herself. "But this is what I was handed. And if scraps are all I get..." Her eyes met Lisa's — glassy, broken, but unflinching. "...then scraps are what I'll take. Because clearly, that's all I'm worth." The words sat between them like something dying. Then Nicky caught her own reflection in the car window. She blinked a couple of times then straightened her spine. Swiped her fingers hard beneath her eyes. "Damn it." Her voice had shifted — clipped and controlled. Her armor back on. "Look what you made me do. Now I have to redo my entire face, and I'm going to be late." Lisa stepped forward, arms open. But Nicky stepped back. "No, go back inside, Lisa." Then she got in the car without another word. The engine started and she drove off. The taillights disappeared around the corner. And Lisa stood in the middle of the street — alone — as the first cold breath of wind swept through, carrying the smell of rain. A storm was coming. She could feel it in her bones. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Inside, she barely made it to the couch before her legs gave out. The tears came without warning — ugly, exhausted tears she'd been swallowing for ten years. Ten years of the same conversation. The same heartbreak. The same ending. She had considered walking away. More times than she could count, she had stood at that door in her mind and almost walked through it. Almost let go. But Nicky wasn't just her friend. Nicky was it — her person. The one who had held her hair back and known her before she knew herself. How do you walk away from that? How do you abandon that? And yet — how do you stay? How do you keep watching someone you love choose their own destruction, day after day, and call it love? Lisa pressed her palms flat against her eyes. Her mother's face surfaced from the place she kept locked away. Different woman. Same story. Same kind of man. Same slow unraveling. Until it wasn't slow anymore. Until it was permanent. I can't do this again, Lisa thought. I cannot watch someone I love walk that same road and end up at the same destination. She exhaled. Maybe Nicky's right. Maybe she's a grown woman who gets to make her own choices. Maybe Nana was right too — you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. She'd tried everything. Everything. Maybe this was the end. Maybe friendship had a breaking point — and they'd finally found it. Because one thing Lisa knew for certain: She could not survive losing someone that way again.