Cruise In Love: Revenge On My Cheating Ex-boyfriend

Charlotte The Silver Horizon was a floating winter wonderland. The air buzzed with holiday cheer, with every corner of the ship decked out in Christmas decorations. Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around every pillar, casting a warm glow on the polished wood floors. Garlands of holly framed the doors, and the scent of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts drifted from the grand ballroom. Somewhere in the distance, a pianist played a soft rendition of Silent Night. I leaned against the railings on the upper deck, the icy sea breeze biting at my cheeks. This cruise was meant to be enchanting. Connor had called it “our Christmas escape,” a chance to rekindle the spark we’d lost. I had pictured us dancing beneath the mistletoe, sharing quiet laughter over romantic candlelit dinners, and waking up to crisp, sunlit mornings on the open sea. One week of pure love and undivided attention. That’s what I had imagined. Instead, I was alone, watching the party from afar like an outsider. Connor had disappeared hours ago, promising he’d “grab our drinks and be right back.” At first, I waited patiently, ignoring the little voice in my head that whispered he’d done this before. Left me waiting, making me feel like an afterthought. But this time was different. There was a gnawing sensation in my gut, an unease I couldn’t shake. When I finally decided to look for him, I told myself I was overreacting. Maybe he got caught up in conversation. Maybe he was planning some surprise for me. But as I entered the grand ballroom, weaving through laughing couples and waiters balancing trays of champagne, my hopes shattered. Connor stood at the bar, his back to me, and the woman beside him was impossible to miss. She was stunning, in that effortless way that made me feel small and plain. Her crimson dress hugged every curve, her auburn hair cascading down her back like molten fire. She leaned into Connor, whispering something in his ear. And he laughed. Not the polite chuckle he used with strangers. This was his real laugh, the one I’d fallen in love with. The laugh that used to be mine. I froze, rooted to the spot as the scene unfolded before me. He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. Then, without hesitation, he kissed her. Time seemed to stop. The music, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, all of it faded away. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. When they pulled apart, I finally found my voice. “Connor.” The word sliced through the air like a blade. He turned, his expression flickering from surprise to irritation. “Charlotte,” he said flatly, as though my presence were a minor inconvenience. The woman beside him arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug smile. “This is her?” “Yes,” Connor replied, his tone exasperated. “Charlotte, what are you doing here?” “What am I doing here?” I repeated, my voice trembling. “This is supposed to be our trip, Connor. Or did you forget?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t make a scene. It’s not what it looks like.” “Oh, really?” I gestured to the woman, who made no effort to step away. “Then what is it?” The woman laughed, a sharp, condescending sound that made my skin crawl. “Sweetheart, it’s exactly what it looks like. Maybe if you weren’t so clingy, he wouldn’t have needed me.” I stared at her, stunned. Then I turned back to Connor, hoping, praying he would deny it. Defend me. Choose me. But he didn’t. He shrugged. “Charlotte, let’s not do this here. You’re overreacting.” “Overreacting?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You’re cheating on me, and I’m overreacting?” “Cheating implies commitment,” he said coolly. “And let’s be honest, Charlotte. We were barely holding on as it was.” I felt like the floor had disappeared beneath me. Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. The woman looped her arm through his, smirking at me. “Don’t take it so hard, sweetie. Some people just aren’t meant to last.” I couldn’t stand there for another second. Without another word, I turned and walked away, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. The festive decorations blurred around me as I fled, my vision clouded by tears. I ended up on the promenade deck, the biting wind stealing the breath from my lungs. The stars above seemed distant and cold, their light indifferent to the chaos inside me. Connor had been my world. I’d built everything around him. My plans, my future, my happiness. And now, it felt like I was floating in a void, unmoored and directionless. The sound of laughter and music drifted from the party behind me, a cruel reminder of the celebration I no longer belonged to. My legs felt weak, my head spinning with anger, humiliation, and heartbreak. That’s when I saw the bar. It was tucked into a quieter corner of the promenade, its warm lights and polished counters inviting me in. I hesitated for only a moment before slipping onto one of the stools. “Whiskey,” I told the bartender, my voice rough. “Keep them coming.” The first sip burned, but I welcomed the pain. It was a distraction, something to focus on besides the image of Connor and his new conquest. By the third glass, the edges of my despair began to blur. By the fifth, the tears I’d been holding back spilled freely. “Rough night?” a deep voice asked. I turned, blinking through my haze. The man beside me was tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly handsome. His blue eyes held a spark of curiosity, and his tailored suit suggested he didn’t belong here any more than I did. “You have no idea,” I slurred, reaching for another drink. He raised an eyebrow, watching as I downed it in one go. “Careful. You might regret this in the morning.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Regret? That’s all I have left.” We talked or rather, I rambled for what felt like hours. He listened without judgment, his quiet presence oddly comforting. Eventually, the room started to spin, and I stumbled to my feet. “I—I need to go.” “Where’s your room?” he asked, steadying me when I swayed. I waved vaguely in the direction of the cabins. “Down there... somewhere.” He sighed, slipping an arm around my waist. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out.” I didn’t protest as he guided me down the hallways, my vision swimming. When we reached a door, I fumbled with the handle, certain it was mine. It wasn’t.