**Betrayal, Take Two**
Veronica and Taya always drove to work together—Taya behind the wheel, responsible and serious, pretty in a quiet way, while Veronica was cheerful, a little careless, but undeniably beautiful. They’d been friends for nearly a decade, sharing an office with two other colleagues.
Neither was married. Their adult children had their own lives now. Taya had lost her beloved husband seven years ago—a car accident. The thought of remarrying never crossed her mind.
*”Taya, you need someone—not to marry, just to keep you company,”* Veronica often said. She was the optimist, always hoping for a spark with someone new.
*”I don’t even want to think about it,”* Taya sighed. *”He was my other half. Now that he’s gone, there’s no one else.”*
Veronica, on the other hand, was striking—slim, educated, and free. Eight years ago, she’d found herself in an ugly situation at home, walked in on her husband, and promptly threw his things out. The flat was hers. No fights, just divorce papers. Since then, she’d had her share of men, always hoping to meet *the one* she’d follow to the ends of the earth. But time passed, and no such man appeared.
Recently, Veronica celebrated her *”berry jubilee”*—forty-five. She was two years older than Taya. They’d toasted in a restaurant, just like they had for her fortieth, despite Taya’s warnings.
*”Veronica, you know what people say—forty is an unlucky birthday. Are you sure about throwing a party?”*
*”Oh, Taya, don’t be superstitious! If you believe all that nonsense, life would be so dull.”*
That evening, a handsome man sat across the restaurant—reminded Veronica of some actor. Before Taya could blink, Veronica had dragged him to their table.
*”Where did you *find* him?”* Taya whispered.
*”He asked me to dance! When I mentioned my birthday, he promised me a gift tomorrow.”*
And just like that, Veronica started seeing Dennis. By their second date, she knew he was married.
*”We’re getting a divorce,”* he reassured her. *”The kids are grown. There’s nothing left between us.”*
He spoiled her—flowers, dinners, weekends away. Often stayed over. Taya barely recognised her friend.
*”You’re floating like a butterfly,”* she said. *”Carefree, not a worry in the world.”*
*”Taya, you have no idea how amazing he is. I think I’ve lost my head!”*
*”Don’t get too carried away,”* Taya warned. *”I can *see* the type he is—a proper charmer. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”*
Veronica just laughed. *”Taya, are you *jealous*?”*
*”Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want you hurt.”*
A year and a half in, Dennis stopped mentioning divorce. Worse—he’d started seeing a younger woman—ten years Veronica’s junior. Just as free-spirited, just as wild. He confessed one evening, casually.
*”It just happened. I wanted to tell you sooner. But you *knew*, didn’t you? Women’s intuition…”*
Veronica sobbed on Taya’s shoulder for weeks.
*”He *used* you,”* Taya muttered. *”You’re wasting tears on a snake. Look at yourself—you’ve lost weight, barely smile. He’s *not* worth it.”*
To distract her, Taya dragged her to films, dinners, even her mother’s cottage—invited friends, barbecues, laughter.
*”You’re a *real* friend,”* Veronica said once she’d finally recovered.
*”Thank God you’re back to yourself,”* Taya smiled.
Then, one weekend, Taya spotted something strange—Dennis’s car outside Veronica’s flat. She nearly tripped.
*”So *this* is what you meant by *‘busy’*,”* Taya thought bitterly. *”Back to the same old mistake.”*
The next morning, Veronica breezed into the office, glowing.
*”Morning, everyone!”*
*”Morning,”* Taya said flatly. *”Saw *Dennis* parked outside your place.”*
Veronica flushed. *”Taya, don’t *judge*. Yes, I saw him again—ran into him by chance.”*
*”Oh? And I suppose he apologised?”*
*”Actually, yes. He invited me to Spain. Said he missed me, that I’d *outshine* every woman there…”*
*”And you *believed* that?”*
*”He says he made a mistake. That we just *paused*, and now we’re *starting fresh*.”*
Taya sighed. *”Veronica, you’re *forty-five*. Not fifteen. You *know* what he is.”*
*”Taya, I *can’t* help it. And it’s not like I have *options* lining up.”*
*”I *don’t* trust him. He’s *slippery*. Handsome, but *slippery*.”*
*”Relax,”* Veronica grinned. *”Maybe I’ll just enjoy a free holiday. Never been to Spain.”*
But Taya knew—Veronica wasn’t *that* calculating. She’d fallen for him all over again.
*”She’ll forgive anything,”* Taya thought grimly. *”I *wish* she’d see him for what he is.”*
When Veronica called from Spain, gushing, Taya only half-listened.
*”It’s *amazing* here! Dennis is *perfect*—barely glances at other women!”*
Taya hung up, uneasy. *”Either I’m *wrong*, or he’s *manipulated* her again.”*
Veronica returned, sun-kissed and beaming. *”He’s *filing* for divorce, Taya! We’re getting *married*!”*
*”That’s… great,”* Taya said, unconvinced. *”Maybe I *was* wrong.”*
But doubt gnawed at her.
Autumn arrived—wet leaves, bitter winds. Taya loved it, despite the melancholy.
Then, one Saturday, Veronica called, sobbing.
*”What’s wrong?”* Taya’s chest tightened. *”I’m coming over.”*
Veronica opened the door, tear-streaked. They sat on the sofa, Taya stroking her hair.
*”He *left* me. For a *twenty-year-old* this time.”*
*”Oh, Veronica. I *told* you. He’s *not* the man you think he is. This is betrayal—*take two*. You *have* to let go.”*
*”I *know*,”* Veronica whispered. *”I *know*.”*
Taya held her, certain *this* time, she’d finally learned.
But only time would tell.
