We were inseparable, my best friend and I. Like sisters, people always said. Not just close, but woven into the fabric of each other’s lives. She was there for every milestone, every breakdown, every silly dream I ever dared to whisper. She was the one who celebrated loudest when I finally found him, my partner, the man I truly believed was my soulmate.
Our life together felt like a storybook. We talked about forever. A house with a garden, lazy Sundays, the kind of quiet, deep happiness that settles into your bones. We even started picking out baby names, just for fun, sketching out a future that felt so tangible, so real. And she, my best friend, was always right there, cheering us on. She’d tease us about our domestic bliss, but her eyes held a genuine warmth, a shared excitement for our future. She was family, our chosen third.
Then, it shattered. Not with a bang, but with a whimper. He just… left. Said he couldn’t do it anymore. That he wasn’t the man I deserved, that he needed to figure things out. No real explanation, just a vague, painful goodbye that left me gasping for air. My world imploded. The garden, the house, the baby names – all turned to ash. I cried for weeks. Months. And guess who held me through every single tear? Her. My best friend. She was my rock, my anchor in a sea of grief. She listened, she comforted, she validated every raw, broken feeling. She understood my pain better than anyone.
A cunning woman smiling | Source: Pexels
It’s been almost a year since then. I’ve picked up the pieces, slowly. The jagged edges are still there, but they don’t cut quite as deep anymore. I’m learning to breathe again. I was even starting to imagine a future that didn’t involve him, a future just for me.
That’s when it happened. A simple conversation.
I was at the old coffee shop, the one we used to frequent, when I ran into an acquaintance from years ago. Someone I hadn’t seen since before I met my partner. We exchanged pleasantries, talked about work, the weather, the usual small talk. Then, she mentioned seeing my best friend.
“Oh, it’s so good to see her thriving,” she said, taking a sip of her latte. “After all the stress, you know?”
Stress? I tilted my head. “What stress?” My best friend had been perfectly fine, always composed, always strong.
“Oh, you know,” she waved her hand vaguely. “Around the time… you and your partner broke up. She was always so worried about everything. About how it would all look. And then, well, the timing of it all.”
A chill snaked down my spine. Worried about how it would look? The timing of what? My best friend had never mentioned any particular stress around that time, beyond empathizing with my heartbreak. My stomach clenched. “What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, casual.
She laughed, a little too brightly. “Oh, you’re funny. Playing coy. I mean, it’s not like she could just keep it quiet forever, is it? Especially with… well, you know.” Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something in them – surprise? Pity?
A partial view of a woman looking down | Source: Pexels
My heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs. No. This isn’t happening. There’s a misunderstanding. My mind raced, trying to find a benign explanation. Maybe she was talking about a work project? A family issue I didn’t know about? But the way she kept looking at me, searching my face…
“I honestly don’t know what you mean,” I insisted, a desperate edge creeping into my voice. “What couldn’t she keep quiet forever?”
She paused, then her smile faltered. “Oh. OH. You really don’t know, do you?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she were revealing a minor gossip item, unaware she was plunging a knife into my chest. “She and your partner. They’re together. Haven’t you seen them? They’re practically inseparable now.“
The air left my lungs in a ragged gasp. My coffee cup clattered against the saucer, thankfully not spilling. No. NO. My best friend? My partner? The world tilted. The betrayal, sharp and sudden, cut me deeper than the breakup itself. All those tears I cried, all those hours she spent comforting me, all those promises of loyalty – a cruel, elaborate lie. My anchor had been a wrecking ball.
I could feel a scream building in my throat, but nothing came out. Just a strangled, silent gasp. My vision blurred. She watched me, her face now etched with genuine horror as she realized her mistake.
“I am so, so sorry,” she stammered, reaching out a hand, then pulling it back. “I thought… everyone knew. I heard they even told their families weeks ago.”
An unhappy woman | Source: Pexels
My best friend. And him. Together. A secret affair, blossoming while I withered. The pain was so intense, it felt physical. Like every nerve ending was on fire. I wanted to run, to vanish, to rewind time to before this conversation. Before this simple conversation ripped open the wound that was just beginning to heal and poured salt into it.
I swallowed, forcing myself to speak. My voice was a thin, reedy whisper. “They’re… together?”
She nodded slowly, her face pale. “Yes. And… and the baby.”
THE BABY.
The word hit me like a physical blow, reverberating through my skull. My heart stopped. BABY? What baby? Whose baby? My mind screamed, trying to make sense of the nonsensical. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.
“Yes,” she continued, her voice barely audible, as if she was afraid to utter the words that were clearly destroying me. “They’re having a baby. Your best friend and your ex-partner. They just announced it. Due in a few months.“
The world went silent. Utterly, deafeningly silent. All the sounds of the bustling coffee shop, the chatter, the clatter, faded into oblivion. All that remained was the ringing in my ears, a high-pitched whine of pure, unadulterated devastation. Their baby. Not ours. Not the one we had planned. But theirs. Conceived, I now realized with sickening clarity, while my world was still intact. While she was pretending to be my confidante. While he was pretending to love me.
Two ornaments on a piano | Source: Midjourney
The simple conversation ended, but my life, the one I thought I knew, crumbled into dust. All that’s left is the ringing. And the hollowness. The absolute, crushing hollowness where my future used to be.
