**Ten Years Wasted**
“Bloody hell, Amelia!” shouted Emily, snatching the cold coffee cup from the table. “Ten years! Ten years we’ve been best mates, and you—”
“And what?” Amelia cut in, jumping up from the sofa. “Was I supposed to report my every move to you? You were the one who said you were over Daniel!”
“I was! But not so you could jump into bed with him the second I turned my back!” Emily slammed the cup down so hard coffee sloshed onto the saucer. “Christ, how am I supposed to look either of you in the eye now?”
Amelia sank back onto the sofa, fists tangled in her dark hair. She’d known this confrontation was coming, yet still, she wasn’t prepared for the storm.
“Em, listen to me—” she began quietly. “We’re grown women. You and Daniel divorced a year ago. A whole year! And all this time, you’ve been going on about how free you feel, how you’d never go back to him—”
“Yes, I said that! So what?” Emily paced the kitchen, yanking cupboard doors open and shut. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to see him with my best friend!”
“Former best friend, by the looks of it,” Amelia muttered bitterly.
They’d met at uni, first year of Economics. Emily had been that loud, fiery girl with a mane of red curls, while Amelia was the studious one behind thick glasses. On paper, they had nothing in common, yet they’d clicked instantly.
“Am, d’you even own mascara?” Emily had asked after their first lecture, eyeing her up.
“No. Why would I?”
“I’ll teach you. And you can tutor me in maths, yeah? Numbers might as well be hieroglyphics to me.”
Just like that, their friendship began. Emily transformed the bookish Amelia into someone who knew how to work a red lip, while Amelia dragged Emily through exams she’d have flunked otherwise. They were inseparable—studying, dating, dreaming together.
“Y’know, Ames,” Emily had once murmured as they lay on their narrow dorm beds, “I want to marry a proper bloke. Strong, handsome—the kind who makes my knees weak just looking at me.”
“I just want to love someone,” Amelia had replied. “Someone who gets me without words, who I can just sit quietly with and feel happy.”
Daniel entered their lives in third year. Tall, athletic, with an easy grin and confidence in every step. A transfer student who had every girl on the course batting their lashes.
“Ladies, I’m done for!” Emily had declared dramatically after spotting him. “That’s my future husband right there.”
Amelia had only smiled. Daniel was handsome, sure, but there was something… too polished about him. Like he always knew the right thing to say.
“Emily, hey!” he’d called after a lecture. “Mind showing me where to grab a decent bite around here?”
“Course!” Emily had beamed. “Am, you coming?”
“I’ve got to see my tutor,” Amelia lied. “Go ahead.”
Emily fell hard and fast. And Daniel? He seemed smitten too. Within a month, they were official, and Amelia became the awkward third wheel, though neither let it show.
“Don’t sulk, Ames!” Emily would whine. “You’re like my sister! Daniel adores you too!”
“It’s fine,” Amelia would brush her off. “Just swamped with coursework.”
But it wasn’t fine. Because Daniel *was* different. He was the only one who actually cared about Amelia’s thoughts, who’d discuss books and films for hours. With him, she could talk about things she never did with Emily.
“Amelia, ever thought of academia?” he’d asked once over coffee. “You’ve got a brilliant mind.”
“Don’t be daft!” Emily had laughed. “Am’s far too practical—she’s going into finance, raking in the dosh!”
“Maybe,” Amelia had murmured.
Daniel had studied her, and she’d felt her cheeks burn. There was something in his gaze—understanding? Interest? Her heart had hammered wildly.
“Emily, could you—” Daniel started, but she cut in:
“Oh God, I totally forgot! I’ve a dentist appointment! Am, walk Daniel back to halls, yeah?”
And she’d bolted before either could reply.
They strolled through the autumn campus in silence, leaves crunching underfoot, the air damp with impending rain.
“Amelia,” Daniel said suddenly, stopping. “You know you’re stunning, right?”
“What?” She nearly tripped.
“I mean it. Emily’s bold, impossible to miss. But you… you’re different. Your eyes, the way you *see* things…”
Amelia turned away. Her pulse roared in her ears.
“Daniel, don’t. You’re with Emily.”
“I am,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice other women. Doesn’t mean I don’t notice *you*.”
“Emily’s my best friend.”
“I know. That’s why nothing’s happened. But if—”
“If doesn’t count,” she said sharply. “Let’s just go.”
They walked the rest in silence. At the dorm, Daniel tried to say something, but Amelia hurried inside.
That evening, Emily returned with a swollen cheek and stars in her eyes.
“Ames!” she’d shrieked, bursting in. “Turns out my tooth wasn’t rotten! Dentist said it’s just stress! And guess why I’m stressed? Because I’m *mad* for Daniel! He’s just… ugh, so *real*. Today, he looked at me like—”
“Like what?” Amelia tensed.
“Like he *sees* me, y’know? I reckon he’s gonna propose soon!” Emily had spun around, hugging a pillow. “Imagine—me, married! You’ll be my maid of honour!”
Amelia had listened, feeling something knot tightly inside her. Those looks weren’t for Emily. But how could she tell her best friend?
Two years later, they married. A lavish wedding, white dress, proud parents. Amelia stood as maid of honour, smiled in every photo, and avoided the groom’s eyes.
“Ames, I owe you everything!” Emily had sobbed in the loo, fixing her smudged mascara. “You’re the best friend anyone could ask for!”
“Just be happy,” Amelia had whispered, patting her back.
All the while thinking how agonising it would be to watch them together now. To see Daniel hold Emily, kiss her, say the words Amelia longed to hear.
But time numbed things. Amelia buried herself in work, climbed the corporate ladder, moved across London. Dated men who never matched the ghost in her heart.
Emily and Daniel seemed happy. They hosted dinners, celebrated holidays. Daniel was always polite to Amelia, even warm—but there was an unspoken wall between them now.
“Ames, when are *you* settling down?” Emily would ask. “You’re nearly thirty!”
“Haven’t met the right one,” Amelia would say.
“You’re too picky!” Emily would laugh. “Daniel says there’s a decent bloke at his work—divorced, but stable—”
“Don’t,” Amelia would cut in.
The cracks started five years in. Emily began complaining—Daniel grew distant, quiet.
“He comes home and just stares at his laptop!” she’d fume. “I’m talking, and he just grunts! Like I’m the bloody telly!”
“Maybe he’s tired,” Amelia offered carefully.
“Tired!” Emily scoffed. “Then why won’t he talk weekends? He’d rather read than spend time with me!”
Amelia stayed quiet. Daniel had always loved books, deep conversations. But Emily thrived on shopping, gossip, nights out.
“Ames, talk to him?” Emily begged once. “You’re clever—maybe he’ll listen.”
“Why me? It’s your marriage.”
“*Please*? You’re my best friend! I’m desperate!”
They met at that same student café. Daniel arrived looking older, streaks of grey at his temples.
“Amelia,” he said the moment they sat. “I know why you’re here.”
“You do?”
“Emily asked you to talk sense into me. Thinks I’ve changed.”
“*Have* you?”
He stirred his coffee silently.
“The worst part of marriage?” he finally said. “Realising you married the wrong person. That you fell for an idea, not the real them.”
“Daniel—”
“Let me finish. Ten years, Amelia. Ten years with a woman I *thought* I loved. But the truth? I loved *you*. Since uni. Never stopped.”
Her breath caught. She’d waited a lifetime for those words—yet now, they only hurt.
“It’s too late,” she whispered.
“I know. But I can’t pretend anymore. Can’t act like Emily fascinates me, like our life fulfils me.”And as Amelia walked away from the café that evening, she finally understood that some loves are meant to be lived in silence, not in the wreckage of what might have been.”
