**That Kind of Friend**
— Why did you tell me all this? — Irina asked quietly, her voice unfamiliar.
— I don’t know myself, — Jane replied just as hollowly.
She seemed about to go on, but then she caught Irina’s gaze—sharp, guarded, piercing. The kind of look reserved for someone no longer trusted.
That Friday, like always after work, Irina and Jane stopped by their usual café. It had been their ritual for years: a glass of wine, warm chatter, laughter, the occasional tear. Just two women, worn out by life, by family, by the daily grind. Here, at this table by the window, they could be themselves.
But that evening, everything went wrong.
Irina suddenly jumped up, her face alight with joy. — Sorry, just a moment! — she called before rushing outside. Jane, raising an eyebrow, watched her go.
Through the glass, she saw Irina embrace a woman—sleek, well-kept, with a gentle smile. Jane froze.
A second passed. Then another. The woman’s face surfaced in her memory. A cold dread washed over her.
She knew her.
When Irina returned, everything had already changed. Jane forced a smile.
— Who was that?
— Oh, that was Veronica. My cousin. Why?
— Just… she looked familiar.
— Do you know her? I could introduce you properly—Veronica’s wonderful!
— No! — Jane blurted, too loud, too sharp. A few heads turned. — Sorry… it’s nothing.
Irina frowned.
— What’s going on?
Jane dropped her eyes, clenching her hands beneath the table.
— Irene… Veronica was married, wasn’t she? To a man named James?
— Yes. And?
— He was with me. I’m the one who ruined their marriage.
Everything Irina knew about Veronica’s divorce came from her cousin—infidelity, heartbreak, a quiet, resigned split. Pain, unbearable and unspoken.
And now, this confession from Jane. Her best friend. The woman she’d trusted.
Jane spoke as if untying a knot that had festered for years.
— Veronica and I were childhood friends. We did everything together—playing outside, school, even university. Then she met James. At first, I was happy for her. But then… I lost my head. His smile, his voice… he held me once at their wedding, just during a dance. And I fell. I don’t even know how it happened. I just knew—I wanted him. And suddenly, being Veronica’s friend wasn’t enough. I wanted to be her rival.
First, it was glances. Then touches. Then late nights. And finally… one day when Veronica was in hospital, I went to help. I left as James’s lover.
He came to me. I thought a new life was beginning. But instead, it was hell.
James compared us. Criticized. Blamed me. Said how perfect Veronica was and how I wasn’t. On their anniversary, he’d drink and weep. Always weep.
I lived in a delusion. Until I realized—he never loved me. I was just a hiding place, not a home.
Irina listened, lips pressed tight, shaking. Years of friendship with Jane—late-night talks, advice, support. And all of it with the woman who’d betrayed her family, shattered her cousin’s heart.
— Did you know Veronica was my cousin? — she asked flatly.
Jane shook her head.
— No. Only now. And listen… whatever you say next, I’ll take it. I deserve it. I figured it all out too late.
Irina stood.
— Then we’re done. Goodbye, Jane. Good luck. I’m leaving.
Jane returned home. Clothes strewn about, wine on the table, dirty plates. James had been here. And not alone.
In the bedroom—a girl. Young, asleep.
Jane turned and walked silently to the kitchen. James soon appeared in the doorway, wearing her robe, drunk.
— Go on. Scream, cry, lay into me. I don’t care. I’m leaving. For good.
— Pack your things yourself. And get out.
He hadn’t expected that. He’d braced for a scene, for tears. She was supposed to be the one crying.
But she didn’t. The tears had dried long ago. Inside, only emptiness pulsed.
Irina told Veronica everything. Her cousin listened in silence. At the end, she only said:
— Jane died to me years ago. So did James. I forgave them. But I’ll never let them back in. Forgiveness is easy. Trust? Impossible.
