Betrayal, Take Two
Veronica and Taya always drove to work together—Taya behind the wheel, serious and dependable, pretty in a quiet way, while Veronica was cheerful, a little careless, but undeniably striking. They’d been friends since meeting at the office nearly a decade ago, sharing not just a workspace but their lives, along with two other colleagues in the same cramped room.
Neither was married anymore; their grown children had moved on with their own families. Taya had lost her beloved husband seven years prior—a car crash, sudden and brutal. The thought of remarrying never crossed her mind.
“Taya, you need someone in your life. Not necessarily marriage, but just to go out with,” Veronica would say, ever hopeful, always searching.
“I don’t even want to think about it. He was my other half. That part of me is gone now,” Taya would reply, her voice heavy with sorrow.
Veronica was striking—slim, educated, free. Eight years ago, she’d thrown her husband out after catching him in a compromising situation in their flat. No arguments, just his belongings on the doorstep. The flat was hers, the divorce swift. Since then, she’d dated, still believing she’d find someone worth following to the ends of the earth. But time passed, and no such man appeared.
Her forty-fifth birthday—what she called her “berry jubilee”—had been celebrated in style at a restaurant, despite Taya’s warnings.
“Veronica, you know what people say—don’t celebrate forty. And you’re throwing a party?”
“Oh, Taya, don’t be superstitious. If you live by old wives’ tales, life’s hardly worth living,” Veronica laughed.
Across the restaurant that night, a handsome man—reminiscent of a film star—sat alone. Taya missed the moment Veronica dragged him to their table.
“Where did you find him?” Taya hissed when she got the chance.
“He asked me to dance. I told him it was my birthday, and he promised a gift tomorrow,” Veronica grinned.
Soon after, Veronica was seeing Dennis. By their second meeting, she knew he was married.
“We’re divorcing. It’s been over for years,” he assured her. “The kids are grown. Nothing ties us anymore.”
He was charming—flowers, restaurants, weekends away. Often, he stayed over. Taya barely recognised her friend.
“Veronica, you’re fluttering around like a butterfly, careless as anything,” she warned.
“You don’t understand, Taya. He’s wonderful. I think I’m losing my head,” Veronica laughed.
“Don’t get in too deep. He’s a flirt, a proper ladies’ man,” Taya pressed, but Veronica only laughed harder.
“Taya, envy’s an ugly look.”
“It’s not envy. I just don’t want you hurt. You’re too emotional for games like this.”
A year and a half passed. Dennis stopped mentioning divorce. Worse—he’d found another woman, a decade younger. He grew distant. When Veronica confronted him, he sighed.
“I should’ve told you sooner. I’ve fallen in love. It happens. Let’s part kindly.”
Veronica sobbed into Taya’s shoulder for days.
“He’s a cheat, a liar. Don’t waste your tears. Look at yourself—you’ve lost weight, stopped smiling. He isn’t worth it.”
“I know, in my head. But my heart won’t listen,” Veronica whispered.
To distract her, Taya dragged her to films, gatherings, even her mother’s cottage in the countryside. They barbecued, laughed. Slowly, Veronica healed.
“Thank you,” she said one day, almost back to her old self. “You’re a true friend.”
“Thank goodness you’re better,” Taya smiled.
Then, one weekend, Veronica cancelled their plans.
“Can’t make it. Things to do,” she said vaguely.
Taya shrugged and went alone. Returning Sunday evening, she nearly stumbled the next morning—there, by Veronica’s building, was Dennis’s car. And beside it, unmistakably, Dennis himself.
Taya ducked into her own car and sped off.
“So *that’s* what she meant by ‘things to do’,” she muttered.
Veronica floated into the office, radiant, almost late. She faltered when she saw Taya’s expression.
“Morning, everyone,” she chirped, sliding into her seat.
“Morning. Saw your ‘Mr. Beetle’ outside your flat.”
“Oh, Taya, don’t be cross. Yes, fine, I’m back on the same old path. But listen—Dennis wants to take me to Spain! Says life there’s a whirlwind, that I’d outshine everyone.”
“And you believe him?”
“He apologised, said he only strayed because he missed me. We’re pressing play again.”
Taya sighed. “You’re hopeless. You’re not fifteen. And after last time—”
“I can’t help it. Besides, it’s not like offers are raining down on me.”
“I don’t trust him. He’s slippery, his eyes never stay still. Handsome, sure, but—”
“Relax. Maybe I’ll just enjoy a free holiday. Never been to Spain,” Veronica joked, though Taya knew she wasn’t that calculating.
*She’s in love again*, Taya thought. *Forgiving everything. But you don’t forgive cheats. Not twice.*
The call came a week later. Veronica, breathless with joy.
“Taya, darling! Spain’s *gorgeous*! Dennis is perfect—barely glances at the local beauties!”
Hanging up, Taya frowned. *Either I’m wrong about him, or he’s just that good at fogging her mind.*
Veronica returned sun-kissed, glowing, arms full of gifts.
“Taya, I’m *so* happy! He’s filing for divorce—then we’ll marry!”
“Good. I’m glad,” Taya said, though doubt gnawed at her.
Autumn arrived, wet and blustery. Then, one Saturday, a tearful call.
“Veronica? What’s wrong? I’m coming over.”
On the sofa, Veronica wept into Taya’s shoulder.
“He left me. Again. Found someone else—*twenty years old* this time.”
“Don’t cry. You knew what he was. This is betrayal, take two. Please tell me you finally see it.”
“I do, Taya. I do,” Veronica sniffed.
Taya soothed her, certain *this* time, Veronica understood. But what came next? Only time would tell.
