I never thought the person who’d hurt me the most would be my best friend. Sophie and I had known each other for over a decade. She’d stayed at my place countless times, cried with me, shared every fear, failure, and dream I had. I trusted her completely.
When I met this new man, I told her immediately. At first, she pretended to be pleased, but there was always something odd in her responses. Instead of saying, “I’m happy for you,” shed warn me to “be careful.” Rather than telling me he was handsome, shed insist, “Dont get carried away.” Every comment sounded like concern, but to me, it came across as a warning veiled in worry.
After a few weeks, the constant comparisons began. She told me he was no different from my exes, that I always go for the same sort of chap. If he texted me often, Sophie would say his interest was suspiciously intense. If he went quiet for a few hours, shed say he was probably seeing someone else. There was never a middle ground.
One evening stands out. The three of us went out for drinks at a little pub in Oxford. I popped to the loo, and when I came back, I saw them talkingmuch too close for my liking. Nothing obvious, but something about the way they stood together made my stomach turn. That same evening, Sophie messaged me that he was “far too friendly” with her and that she found it rather suspicious. I was confused, but a nagging unease crept in.
From that point, things deteriorated quickly. Any time I made plans with him, Sophie would get annoyed. She said I’d changed, that I was neglecting her, and reminded me that women shouldnt toss aside their friends over a man. Yet, if I asked to meet up, she’d always decline.
The worst came when she showed me supposed “messages” from people claiming to have been involved with him. No clear proof, no direct messagesjust vague rumours, snippets from social media, and lines like “I heard that…” I asked her why she never told me before. She said she didnt want to hurt me but felt she could no longer keep it to herself.
That same week, things unravelled completely. I started arguing with him about things that had never bothered me before. Suddenly, I doubted everything. I did the unthinkable and checked his phone. I demanded explanations he could never provide. He became exhausted, telling me it seemed as though I didnt trust him, and he simply couldn’t understand where all this suspicion was coming from. We broke up soon after, lost in arguments that made no sense anymore.
But the worst blow came after. A month later, I found out Sophie had been seeing him. First, she said they met to “clear the air.” Then, that it was “just coffee.” Eventually, she admitted they were spending time together regularly. Confronting her, she never apologised. She claimed shed done nothing wrong and that I had brought it all upon myself.
He told me something that still rings in my ears:
“I only did what you failed to protect.”
Thats when it clicked. None of this was concern or caution. It was rivalry. Seeing me happy and moving forward with someone new bothered her, perhaps because she herself didnt have that. She couldnt bear the thought of being left behind.
Now, I have neither the man nor the friend. But what I do have is clarity. I lost two people, yes, but gained something more importanta certainty that not everyone who lends you an ear or claims to care actually wants the best for you. Some are just waiting for the perfect moment to drag you down. Thats a lesson I needed, though I wouldnt wish learning it this way on anyone.
