My Boyfriend Cheated With My Best Friend

The car moved smoothly, but my dreams were a storm I couldn't escape. One moment, I was back on that freezing winter night, pressing a steaming cup of hot chocolate into Aryan's hands after I found him passed out from hunger in some dark alley. The next, I was a little girl lost on a sweltering summer evening, and Gloria was pressing a stuffed animal into my arms, guiding me back to my parents.

They became everything to me. And yet, they couldn't stand the sight of each other.

"I come from nothing," Aryan would always say, his jaw tight. "I know exactly what Gloria wants. She's only after your connections."

Never one to back down, Gloria would fire right back, "He's such a blockhead, Dallas. How do you even put up with him?"

Day after day, I played referee between my boyfriend and my best friend, my stress shooting through the roof as my hair literally started thinning out. Over time, their fights became less frequent, and I had fewer fires to put out—except on our anniversary. That's when they'd blow up all over again, forcing the three of us to spend the day stuck together.

"Honey, we're home. Wanna grab a bite?" Aryan gently nudged me awake, guiding me inside with a careful hand.

I wanted to pull away from his touch, but my body felt weirdly heavy, like moving through quicksand.

"You've got a fever. Take some medicine and lie down," he said, but I caught that flicker of something nervous in his eyes.

I took the pills, and Gloria patted my back with her fake-sweet concern. "You need to rest up good. I'll keep an eye on this troublemaker," she joked, her voice dripping with honey.

Back in my room, I spit the pills out and waited. An hour later, the unmistakable sounds of them together drifted in from the living room.

Gloria's voice, calm and soothing, floated through the walls of the house I'd shared with Aryan for two years. "Talk louder, we slipped her a strong dose. She's not waking up."

The bitter taste of those pills still clung to my tongue. Gloria's sugary voice came next, "Happy anniversary, sweetheart. Here's to another year just for us."

Aryan's voice was a low murmur. "From now on, every anniversary belongs to us."

The second year Aryan and I were together, Gloria started crashing our anniversary. Back then, I'd rub my forehead and sigh, "Seriously, can't you two just stop? You want to cause a scene at the police station? Fine. How about Gloria just comes to dinner instead?"

From then on, every anniversary, I'd mysteriously get sick. I'd blamed work stress, but the truth was Aryan had been drugging me so he could sneak off with Gloria on our special day, right under my nose.

The hot, white rage of betrayal surged through me, and my stomach heaved.

I bolted to the bathroom and threw up until I had nothing left. Catching a glimpse of my gaunt reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. When had I gone from a vibrant, lively young woman to this worn-down, hollowed-out shell?

Maybe it was when I agreed to start that business with Aryan, grinding until I developed a bleeding ulcer. Or maybe it was when I pushed through a blistering summer heatwave to explain those projects to Gloria, only to end up hospitalized with heatstroke.

Dizzy and drained, I stumbled out of the bathroom and stared at the blood-red quilt on the bed. Earlier this year, Aryan had finally promised to marry me.

"My company is about to go public. Once the bell rings, I'll marry you," he'd said.

I'd begged my father to invest millions, wanting to help Aryan chase his dreams. He'd been moved to tears, swearing he'd give me the best life imaginable. That day, he bought the quilt, the decorations, a whole wedding setup.

"Just waiting to make you my bride, darling!" His earnest expression matched the sincerity of his first confession.

Little did I know, his betrayal had started four years ago.

"What are you doing? Dallas is still in the bedroom!" Gloria squealed.

"Let's go to the bed, make it feel like you're marrying me," Aryan whispered back.

Before I could even process it all, Aryan shoved the door open. They stumbled into the bedroom, naked and tangled together, locking eyes with me—me, standing there frozen, shattered.