Sofia had once believed in love—the kind of love that makes you feel invincible, the kind that fills your heart with warmth and wraps your soul in a comforting embrace. She had seen it in movies, read about it in books, and dreamed of it in her quietest moments. Love was supposed to be the one constant, the thing that would always pull you through, no matter how difficult life became. At least, that was what she had believed before Carlos.

Carlos had been her world—her best friend, her partner, her confidant. When they met, it felt like destiny. They shared a connection that felt deeper than any bond she had ever known, one that seemed to transcend time and space. From the first date, there was an undeniable spark, a magnetic force that neither of them could resist. The laughter they shared, the late-night talks, the plans they made for their future—everything had felt perfect. It was the kind of love that made Sofia feel safe, secure in the belief that she had found her forever.

But forever had its way of crumbling when she wasn't paying attention. The cracks had appeared slowly, almost imperceptibly. Sofia hadn't noticed at first—she had been too absorbed in their shared dreams, in the hope that their love would conquer anything. But then, one day, the distance between them became too great to ignore. It was subtle at first, like the tiniest crack in the foundation of a house, but soon it widened, and the house began to shake.

The arguments started small. A word here, a sharp tone there. They were nothing major at first, but they were a warning sign that Sofia chose to overlook. The late nights at the office, the silence that lingered between them at dinner, the growing feeling that something was missing—it all piled up in her chest like a weight she could no longer ignore. The love they had once shared seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind an emptiness that neither of them knew how to fill.

But it wasn't until the day Carlos left that Sofia truly understood the extent of the betrayal. His departure had been quiet, no dramatic confrontation, no angry shouting matches. He had simply walked away, leaving her to pick up the pieces of a life she no longer recognized.

His words before he left still echoed in her mind: "I can't do this anymore, Sofia. I'm sorry."

The apology hadn't come with an explanation, no reason why their marriage had fallen apart. It wasn't that he had fallen out of love with her, or at least that's what he had claimed. It was just... over. Just like that. And Sofia was left alone, standing in the ruins of a life she had built, wondering how she had failed.

The funeral was even worse. His death, unexpected as it had been, wasn't the part that tore her apart. It was the realization that the man she had loved—her husband—wasn't the person she had thought he was. He had betrayed her in ways she hadn't understood until his absence made the truth clear. There had been infidelity, the kind that slowly erodes trust, a betrayal that had been happening long before his death. He had pulled away from her so gradually that Sofia hadn't noticed until it was too late.

And then, there was the grief. It wasn't the grief of losing someone she had loved; it was the grief of losing the illusion of love itself. Carlos had been a symbol of everything she had believed in, everything she had hoped for. And now that he was gone, so was the belief that love could be pure, that it could be real.

Sofia stood in front of his gravestone, the cold stone pressing against her chest like a weight she couldn't shake. She traced the letters of his name with her fingers, her heart empty, hollow, aching with a pain she didn't know how to process. The funeral had been full of well-meaning strangers, people who spoke in hushed tones, offering condolences that only made the hole in her heart feel bigger. "She'll get through this," they whispered, "She's strong."

But they didn't know the truth. They didn't know that Sofia had built walls so high around her heart that not even she knew how to tear them down. Love had failed her, and she had no intention of letting anyone else close enough to do it again.

The days that followed were a blur. She went through the motions of life—work, meals, sleep—but everything felt empty. She was no longer the woman who had once believed in love. That woman had died along with Carlos. Sofia had become a shadow of herself, a woman who was learning to live in a world where love didn't exist, a world where people left when you needed them the most.

As she walked away from the cemetery that day, Sofia made a promise to herself. She would never let anyone in again. She would build her life alone, brick by brick, until there was nothing left to break. She would never be vulnerable again.

Her heart, once full of hope and dreams, was now a fortress—impenetrable and cold. She had learned that love was a lie, a fleeting illusion that only brought pain and betrayal. And so, she would live without it. She would survive, but she would never love again.