This is it. The story I’ve never told anyone. The one that still wakes me up in a cold sweat. I need to get it out, confess it, even if just to the void.
It started with a simple request. A plea, really. My colleague, who I genuinely thought was my friend, came to me, eyes wide and glistening. She was practically in tears, begging me to switch vacation days with her. Please, she said, it’s a family thing. A once-in-a-lifetime event. My aunt’s 100th birthday, and she’s flying in from overseas. I simply CANNOT miss it.
I had my own plans, of course. My quiet week by the sea. My plans for a solo hike, the book I’d saved just for that uninterrupted time. My vacation days were sacred. I’d earned them, saved them, looked forward to them for months. But her desperation was palpable. She swore she’d owe me forever, that she’d do anything to make it up to me. She was so convincing, so earnest. What kind of friend would I be to say no? I told myself it was just a few days, a minor inconvenience. I could adjust. I could find another time. So, with a sigh, and a faint pang of disappointment, I agreed.
A happy couple | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I went to my boss’s office to formalize the switch. Just a quick chat, sign a form, make sure it was on the books. I walked in, explained the situation, feeling a quiet satisfaction in my generosity. But my boss just nodded slowly, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Oh yes,” he said, “she mentioned you two might be switching. Are you sure that works for you?”
My blood ran cold. She mentioned it? He said it so casually, as if it were already a done deal. Why didn’t she tell me she’d already done that? A knot tightened in my stomach. It wasn’t just a request; it was an assumption. And the way he looked at me, almost a pitying glance, made me deeply uncomfortable. But I just forced a smile, confirmed it, and walked out feeling… off.
The unease lingered. Was I being paranoid? She was my friend. We’d shared lunches, late nights, commiserated over deadlines. Yet, the feeling wouldn’t shake. Over the next few days, I started noticing things. Little things. Snippets of conversation from other colleagues. A glance exchanged between her and the boss that seemed too conspiratorial. I saw her staying late, even later than usual, even after everyone else had gone home. She was always glued to her computer, whispering on the phone. And she wasn’t talking about a centenarian aunt.
I started digging. Not intentionally at first, just… observing. I saw a calendar invite pop up on a shared team calendar, for the very week I was supposed to be on vacation, the week she supposedly needed off for her aunt. It was for a major client presentation. A pitch I’d been working on for six months. My pitch. My stomach dropped.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My curiosity quickly turned to dread. I started arriving early, staying late. Pretending to work, but really, watching. Listening. And then I heard it. A colleague, talking quietly to another, lamenting, “Can you believe she pulled that off? Right under her nose.” The context was hazy, but the words echoed. “Guess that’s how you get promoted around here.”
Promoted.
It hit me like a physical blow. A sudden, sickening realization. She didn’t need those days for her aunt. The aunt was a lie. A fabrication. She needed me out of the way. She needed those specific days because that’s when the crucial final presentation for the big, career-defining client project was scheduled. The project I had been leading.
My head spun. I FELT LIKE SUCH AN IDIOT! I remembered all those “extra hours” she’d been putting in. She wasn’t working on her own projects. She was working on MINE. She had been meticulously going through my research, my strategies, my projections. She was preparing to present my work as her own. She was planning to step into my shoes, while I was blissfully unaware, thinking I was doing a friend a favor.
The final confirmation came from an accidental email. A thread that shouldn’t have been forwarded to me, but was, by a new assistant who hadn’t learned the office politics yet. It was a formal internal memo, congratulating her on securing the massive client account and, effective immediately, promoting her to Senior Lead. And the date? The exact day of my original vacation, the day she had presented MY PITCH.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My world shattered. The generosity, the friendship, the trust—all of it was a meticulously crafted lie. She stole it from me. Not just my vacation, not just my project, but my career advancement, my hard work, my moment. SHE KNEW. She knew exactly what she was doing when she begged me, when she looked at me with those fake, pleading eyes. And the boss? He knew too. He was in on it, or at the very least, silently sanctioned it. His knowing smile, his casual “she mentioned it”… it wasn’t just passive acceptance. It was complicity.
I walked out of that office building that day and never looked back. But the wound remains. The betrayal cuts deeper than any professional loss. It’s the realization that someone you trusted, someone you helped, could be so utterly, ruthlessly manipulative. And that sometimes, your own kindness can be weaponized against you.
