— Why did you tell me all this? — asked Eleanor, her voice barely above a whisper, unfamiliar and cold.
— I don’t even know myself, — replied Charlotte, just as hollowly.
She hesitated, as if about to say more, but faltered under Eleanor’s piercing glare—sharp, distrustful, cutting. The kind of look reserved for someone who’s lost all credibility.
That Friday, like every other after work, Eleanor and Charlotte stopped by their usual café. It was a ritual they’d kept for years: a glass of wine, warm chatter, laughter, the occasional tear—just two women, worn out by life, family, and the everyday chaos. Here, at their usual table by the window, they could be themselves.
But that evening, everything went wrong.
Eleanor suddenly leapt up, bright with excitement, tossed a quick, “Sorry, just a moment!” and dashed outside. Charlotte, eyebrows raised in surprise, watched her go.
Through the glass, she saw Eleanor embracing another woman—slender, well-groomed, with a gentle smile. Charlotte froze.
A second passed. Then another. The woman’s face flickered in Charlotte’s memory, and a chill ran through her.
She knew that woman.
When Eleanor returned, something had shifted. Charlotte forced a stiff smile.
— Who was that?
— Oh, just Olivia. My cousin. Why?
— Just… she looked familiar.
— Do you know each other? Want me to introduce you properly? Olivia’s lovely!
— No! — Charlotte blurted, too loud, too sharp. Heads turned. — Sorry… it’s nothing.
Eleanor frowned.
— What’s going on?
Charlotte lowered her eyes, hands clenched under the table.
— Ellie… Olivia was married. His name was James, wasn’t it?
— Yes. So?
— He was with me. I’m the one who ruined their marriage.
Everything Eleanor knew about Olivia’s divorce came from her cousin’s side—infidelity, heartbreak, a quiet, bitter separation. Pain, heavy and unspoken.
And now, this confession from Charlotte. Her friend. The woman she’d trusted.
Charlotte spoke as if unraveling a knot tied years ago.
— Olivia and I grew up together. Shared everything: the playground, school, university. Then she met James. At first, I was happy for her. But then… I lost my head. His smile, his voice… he held me once at their wedding, just during a dance. And that was it. I didn’t even realise how it happened. But I knew—I wanted him. And suddenly, being Olivia’s friend wasn’t enough. I wanted to be her rival.
First, it was glances. Then touches. Late-night conversations. And then… there was a time Olivia was in hospital. I came to help. And left as her husband’s mistress.
He came to me. I thought it was the start of a new life. Instead, it was hell.
James compared me to her. Judged me. Blamed me. Said how perfect Olivia was, how I wasn’t. Got drunk on their anniversary and cried. Always cried.
I lived in a fantasy. Until I realised—he never loved me. I was just somewhere to hide. Never to stay.
Eleanor listened, lips pressed tight, shaking. Years of friendship with Charlotte. Advice, late-night talks, support. And all this time, with the woman who’d betrayed her family. Shattered her cousin’s heart.
— Did you know Olivia was my cousin? — she asked, voice thick.
Charlotte shook her head.
— No. Not until tonight. And whatever you say now… I’ll take it. I deserve it. I’ve known that for years.
Eleanor stood.
— Then we’re done. Goodbye, Charlotte. Good luck.
Charlotte went home. Found clothes strewn across the floor, half-empty wine bottles, dirty plates. James had been there. And not alone.
In the bedroom—a girl. Young. Asleep.
Charlotte turned and walked silently to the kitchen. James appeared soon after, swaying in the doorway, wrapped in her dressing gown. Drunk.
— Go on. The shouting, the tears, the insults. I don’t care anymore. I’m leaving. For good.
— Pack your things. And get out.
He hadn’t expected this. He wanted a scene. A fight. Wanted her to cry.
But she didn’t. The tears had dried long ago. Inside, there was only a dull, aching emptiness.
Eleanor told Olivia everything. Olivia listened in silence. Then, at last, she spoke.
— Charlotte died to me years ago. So did James. I forgave them. But I’ll never let them back into my life. Forgiving is easy. Trusting again? Impossible.
