My best friend’s wife 2

I followed her into the kitchen, the clinking of plates and soft hum of an old ceiling fan filling the silence. She stood at the sink, turning on the tap, sleeves rolled up just past her elbows. I stepped beside her without a word and grabbed a towel from the rack.

“You wash, I dry?” I offered, half smiling.

She looked at me, hesitant, but then nodded. “Deal.” For a few minutes, we worked in easy silence, a rhythm forming between us that felt natural. Too natural. I stole glances at her as she scrubbed a plate, her face softer now, relaxed. There was a quiet sadness in her, but also something familiar. The way she brushed a stray hair behind her ear. The way she smiled at the bubbles on her fingers. It all felt like slipping into an old song you never forgot the lyrics to.

“I missed this,” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I paused. “Missed what?”

She didn’t look at me. “Being seen and the feeling that comes with someone willingly helping out.”

My heart thudded against my chest.

I cleared my throat. “You okay, Alina?”

She finally turned to me. “Are any of us, really?”

And just like that, I wanted to reach out. To hold her. To tell her she didn’t have to stay in whatever this was. But before I could say anything, a door creaked open behind us.

“What’s going on in here?” Daniel’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. Cold. Suspicious.

I stepped back instinctively, holding the towel in my hand. “Just helping with the dishes.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say more. The tension in the room thickened, awkward and heavy. Alina turned back to the sink wordlessly.

“I’ll go freshen up,” I muttered and made my way to the guest room.

I shut the door behind me and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing hard. Get it together. This isn’t your place. Not anymore.

The rest of the afternoon passed in slow silence. I lay on the bed, scrolling aimlessly on my phone, but my mind kept drifting back to the kitchen. To her voice. Her eyes. That look on her face when she said she missed being seen.

Just as the sky turned orange with evening, I heard raised voices from the other side of the house.

Daniel.

And Alina.

I froze, heart thumping.

“You embarrassed me in front of him, Alina! You always have to act like the victim—”

“I wasn’t acting! You haven’t touched me in months! You barely talk to me unless it’s to command something—”

“You think that gives you the right to flirt with him?”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Her voice cracked. “Jason is more of a help in one afternoon than you’ve been in years!”

Silence.

Then the sound of something slamming. A door. Heavy footsteps. Moments later, I heard the front door open, then slam shut.

I sat there, frozen.

And then I heard it—quiet, muffled sobs.

Alina. Crying. Alone.

God, it tore through me like a blade. I sat there, fists clenched at my side, debating what to do. Stay out of it, respect the boundary. Or follow my heart, just like I failed to do all those years ago? I stood slowly and walked toward the door. And this time, I didn’t stop myself. I walked through the dim hallway, each step louder than it should’ve been. The house was quiet now, except for her. I could hear the soft, broken sobs coming from the living room. I found her curled up on the edge of the couch, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders trembled with every breath, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching her. Not out of hesitation, but because the sight of her like this broke something in me.

“Alina…” I said gently.

She looked up quickly, startled, her eyes red and glassy. “Jason… I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have heard that.”

“I did.” I moved closer and crouched in front of her, resting my hands lightly on her knees. “And I’m not going to pretend I didn’t.”

She tried to compose herself, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “It’s nothing. Just another fight. I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t,” I said quietly. “You’re not fine, Alina. I saw it the second you walked in the room.”

Her lips quivered, and she shook her head. “It’s not your place.”

“Maybe not,” I whispered, “but I still care. I never stopped caring.”

That made her freeze.

The silence stretched between us like a drawn breath. Then, slowly, she leaned forward. Her forehead met mine, and we just sat there, breathing the same air, feeling the tension build between us like a rising tide.

“I hate how he treats you,” I murmured. “You deserve more.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and I reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek. I couldn't help but keep caressing her soft cheeks. I took a sharp intake of breath as I stared at her beautiful lips. And then I kissed her. Soft at first—hesitant. But the moment our lips met, everything I’d buried for seven years came rushing to the surface. She didn’t pull away. Her hands reached up, tangling in my shirt as our kiss deepened, mouths moving in a rhythm that felt inevitable. It was desperate. Familiar. Like coming home.

But then—just as suddenly—she broke it.

“No,” she whispered, breathless, stepping back.

Her eyes were wide, filled with tears again. “Jason… I’m married.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, creating a space that had never existed between us.

“I know,” I said, chest heaving. “I know.”

She turned away, wiping her face. “We shouldn’t have done that. I can’t—I can’t be this woman.”

I took a shaky step back, guilt and longing battling inside me. “You’re not the one who failed here, Alina. You didn’t ask for this. I did.”

She didn’t respond.

And I didn’t press.

“I’ll give you space,” I murmured before backing out of the room, heart heavier than it had been in years.

And this time, I didn’t look back.