“Why did you tell me all this?” asked Emily, her voice quiet and unfamiliar.
“I don’t know,” replied Jessica, just as hollowly.
She seemed about to say more but stopped when she met Emily’s gaze—sharp, guarded, piercing. The kind of look reserved for someone no longer trusted.
That Friday, as usual after work, Emily and Jessica stopped by their regular café. It was a ritual years in the making: a glass of wine, warm chatter, laughter, the occasional tear. Just two women, worn down by life, family, the daily grind. Here, at their usual table by the window, they could be themselves.
But that evening, everything went wrong.
Emily suddenly jumped up, beaming, and blurted, “Sorry, just a sec!” before darting outside. Jessica, eyebrows raised, watched her go.
Through the glass, she saw Emily hugging another woman—slim, polished, with a soft smile. Jessica froze.
A second passed. Then another. The woman’s face flickered in her memory, and a chill ran through Jessica.
She knew her.
When Emily returned, everything had already changed. Jessica forced a strained smile.
“Who was that?”
“Oh, that was Charlotte. My cousin. Why?”
“No reason… just thought she looked familiar.”
“Do you know her? She’s lovely—want me to introduce you?”
“No!” Jessica snapped, too loud, too sharp. A few heads turned. “Sorry… it’s not important.”
Emily frowned.
“What’s going on?”
Jessica dropped her gaze, hands clenched beneath the table.
“Em… Charlotte 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 Emily knew about Charlotte’s divorce had come from her cousin’s lips. The betrayal. The heartbreak. The quiet, resigned dissolution. Pain—deep and unspoken.
And now this confession from Jessica. Her friend. The woman she’d trusted.
Jessica spoke as if untying a knot that had festered for years.
“Charlotte and I were childhood friends. Did everything together—school, university. Then she met James. At first, I was happy for her. But then… I lost myself. His voice, his smile… he held me during a dance at their wedding, just for a moment, and my heart sank. I didn’t understand how it happened. Just knew—I wanted him. Being Charlotte’s friend wasn’t enough anymore. I wanted to be her rival.”
First, it was glances. Then touches. Late-night walks home. And finally—while Charlotte was in hospital, recovering—she became his mistress.
He came to me. I thought it was a new beginning. Instead, it was hell.
James compared me to her. Criticized. Blamed me. Said how perfect Charlotte was, how I fell short. On their anniversary, he drank himself sick and wept. Every time.
I lived in a fantasy. Until I realized—he never loved me. I was just a hiding place. Not a home.
Emily listened, lips pressed tight, trembling. All those years of friendship—advice, late-night talks, support—with the woman who had shattered her cousin’s life.
“Did you know I was Charlotte’s cousin?” Emily asked, voice flat.
Jessica shook her head.
“No. Not until now. And… whatever you say next, I’ll take it. I’m guilty. I’ve known it for years.”
Emily stood.
“Then we’re done. Goodbye, Jessica. Good luck.” She walked out.
Jessica returned home to chaos—clothes strewn about, wine on the table, dirty plates. James had been here. With company.
In the bedroom—a girl. Young, asleep.
Jessica turned and silently walked to the kitchen. Soon, James appeared in the doorway, wearing her robe, drunk.
“Go on. Scream. Cry. I don’t care. I’m leaving. For good.”
“Pack your things. And get out.”
He hadn’t expected that. He’d braced for a scene. Resistance. Expected *her* to break.
But she didn’t. The tears had dried long ago. Inside, there was only numb emptiness.
Emily told Charlotte everything. Charlotte listened in silence. Then, finally, spoke.
“Jessica died to me years ago. So did James. I forgave them. But they’ll never be part of my life again. Forgiveness is easy. Trusting them? Impossible.”
