**”How Could You, Behind My Back”**
“Hello, Marianne. How long has it been since we last saw each other? Fifteen years? Or more?”
“Perhaps longer. But you haven’t changed a bit.”
“And you have—grown lovelier.”
Valerie studied the face of her once dearest friend, hardly believing they had truly crossed paths again. Not just met, but collided—quite literally—in the dance school’s waiting room, where they had each brought their daughters for a free trial lesson.
“Thank you, Val,” Marianne replied with a faint smile.
She wanted to offer a compliment in return, but the words eluded her. They had dried up long ago—over fifteen years past—when they had last spoken. That final conversation had been bitter, tangled, and Marianne still shuddered to recall it.
“Whom did you bring?” Valerie asked. “A son or a daughter?”
“A daughter,” Marianne answered. “Veronica. She’s ten. And you?”
“I’ve a daughter too, though she’s just turned nine. Did you marry Edward in the end?”
Marianne stared at her, astonished. Did Valerie still believe—after all these years—that her best friend could have stolen the man she loved, let alone married him? So much time had passed, yet Val seemed unchanged.
“Let’s go down to the café. We can sit, have tea, and talk properly.”
Valerie hesitated. The idea of spending time with the woman who had, in her mind, once been a rival clearly unsettled her. Yet, after a moment’s pause, she nodded. Life had moved on for both of them. What good came from clinging to old walls?
“Alright.”
They descended in silence, stealing glances when the other wasn’t looking. Both were curious about the other’s life, but neither dared broach the past just yet.
They spoke of trivial things—of nothing and everything. Valerie had returned to London two years ago with her husband and daughter; her mother had fallen ill, needing care, and she had persuaded her husband to relocate.
“It wasn’t easy,” she admitted, “but Ian is wonderful—kind, patient. I’m so grateful I found him.”
Marianne smiled. So Valerie *had* built a happy life after all. A loving husband, a daughter—surely she no longer resented Marianne? But within moments, the question came again:
“And you? Did you marry Edward? Have his child? Are you happy with him?”
Marianne flinched. Why must life be so cruel? Once, there had been two little girls—friends from the sandbox, through nursery, school, adolescence—until a foolish quarrel tore them apart. Marianne had thought Valerie understood the truth eventually. But no—Val had carried the belief all these years that Marianne had built her happiness upon her best friend’s heartache.
“Val, do you truly still think there was anything between Edward and me? We spoke of it back then. I tried to explain. I thought you *understood*—that you were just too hurt to believe me.”
Valerie pressed her lips together—that old habit Marianne remembered from childhood. Whenever Val was upset, defeated in an argument, or nursing a grudge, her lips would thin, making her look like a petulant little girl again.
“I didn’t think of you at all,” Valerie said stiffly, and Marianne knew it was a lie. “I’ve had my own life for years.”
“You’ve held onto Edward all this time, convinced I married him, convinced I was happy with him—and now you expect me to believe you *never* thought of us?”
Valerie scoffed, glancing away. Marianne studied her profile, searching for forgiveness—some sign that Val had made peace with the past, even if she still believed the worst.
“I truly didn’t dwell on it,” Valerie repeated. “That last conversation… I wiped you and Edward from my mind. And your claims that nothing happened? Just lies to me.”
*So she never forgave me.* Marianne sighed, then pulled out her phone and flipped through the gallery before handing it over.
“Look. This is my husband, Victor. The same awkward Victor Samuels you used to mock for being dull.”
Valerie’s eyes widened as she scrolled through the photos. A faint smile tugged at her lips. She zoomed in, examining each image, then looked up in disbelief.
“You *actually* married Samuels? I thought you were joking when you said you fancied him. And your daughter—she’s his?”
Marianne nodded. “A daughter *and* a son. Andrew turns thirteen soon; Veronica’s ten. I’m happy, Val—just as you are. There was never anything between me and Edward. He made it all up to drive us apart—and to end things with *you* properly.”
Valerie’s lips thinned again, and Marianne felt irritation rise. How long must they dredge up the past? Their friendship could have lasted a lifetime if not for Edward’s meddling—his belief that he could play with their lives as he pleased.
Once, two little girls had met in a park sandpit. Their families lived in the same building—different floors, but close enough. They fought over a doll, almost coming to blows before Marianne’s mother pulled them apart, scolding them for quarreling over what wasn’t theirs. Tearful and ashamed, Valerie had sobbed—until Marianne silently handed her the doll and smiled.
*”You play. I’ll wait.”*
Val had stared, disbelieving, at such easy forgiveness. From that moment, a friendship blossomed. They attended the same nursery, the same school, shared desks, homework, games, holidays.
Then came graduation, university together—and in their second year, Edward arrived. A transfer student from another city. The moment Valerie saw him, she was smitten.
*”Marianne! I’m in love!”* she had confessed a week later. *”He’s perfect!”*
Marianne had been delighted. Before Edward, Valerie had shown little interest in romance—so the news had been thrilling.
*”Do you think it’ll work out?”* Marianne had asked.
Valerie’s lips had thinned. *”Why? Because only *you* can manage relationships?”*
Marianne had been stunned. Where had this bitterness come from? Yes, she’d had boyfriends—some casual, some serious—but Valerie had never resented her for it. Until now.
Days passed, their friendship fraying—until Marianne realised the truth. Val was *jealous*—convinced Edward fancied *her* instead. Marianne was happily dating Victor, whom Val deemed too bookish. Yet Edward confessed his feelings to Marianne on New Year’s Eve, expecting reciprocation.
*”You’re seeing Val—what’s the point of this?”*
Edward had smirked. *”Seeing her? We’ve shagged a few times. Hardly a relationship.”*
Disgust had twisted Marianne’s stomach. Handsome, confident, clever—but lacking decency.
*”You think I’d betray my best friend over you?”*
*”She’s in love with me?”* he’d sneered. *”I just gave her attention.”*
Marianne had thrown him out. The next day, Valerie arrived in tears.
*”How could you? You knew I loved him! You *knew* we were together, yet you threw yourself at him!”*
Stunned, Marianne could only stare.
*”Val? What are you talking about?”*
*”Edward told me *everything*! How you cornered him, called our relationship a joke—offered *yourself* instead!”*
*”That’s a lie!”* But before she could say more, Val’s hand struck her cheek.
*”I’m pregnant,”* Valerie hissed through clenched teeth. *”And he doesn’t care—because of *you*. I *hate* you!”*
Marianne had pleaded innocence, but Val was already gone—vanishing from her life. Later, she learned Valerie had moved away.
Years of bitterness followed. Edward fled responsibility, soon chasing another woman.
Now, fifteen years later, they stood together again. Both nearing forty. Both with families. Yet the past haunted them still.
“You never let me explain,” Marianne said softly. “You didn’t *want* to hear the truth. I saw Edward for what he was—but I held my tongue because I knew how you felt.”
Valerie checked her watch abruptly. “The lesson’s ending. Let’s fetch our girls.”
They climbed the stairs side by side, waiting as their daughters skipped out.
“Do you hate me?” Valerie asked suddenly. “For slapping you?”
Marianne shook her head.
“No. You were hurting. I don’t blame you. I only regret that we never talked. Fifteen years of silence, carrying this weight.”
Valerie turned, a small smile forming.
“Do you know what I just realised?”
“What?”
“That if not for Edward, I’d never have met Ian. Never had my daughter—or the life I love now.”
Marianne smiled back, waving as Veronica bounded over. Valerie’s daughter—her mirror—rushed to her too.
“What do you say”Perhaps some friendships aren’t meant to last forever, but the peace of letting go is sweeter than any memory left unsettled.”
