The Betrayal That Stings

On good days, I love my best friend. On really bad days, I remind myself she means well.

But today is neither of those. Today is one of the worst days of my life, and I am furious with her.

“Hades’s asshole” doesn’t even come close to how mad I feel. My hands rip free from hers as if her touch burns. The anger is so sharp, I almost shove her off the couch, but then I notice how close the coffee table is and wince. No, I’m not mad enough to actually injure her. Not yet.

“I can’t believe you!” My voice rises without permission. I shoot off the couch, stomping toward my bedroom like the floor has personally offended me. Mara’s footsteps follow quickly behind.

“You’re overreacting, Lyra,” she calls, her tone too calm, too even. “This isn’t even a bad thing.”

That does it. I whirl around, yank off my left slipper, and fling it straight at her head. But Mara has those reflexes I’ll never forgive her for, years of baseball games with her dad. She ducks at the perfect moment, and the slipper bounces harmlessly against the wall.

Now she’s glaring, her hands on her hips, one finger raised like she’s about to scold a puppy. “Give me one valid reason why you’re mad, and I’ll back off.”

I groan. I hate when she does this. She puts me on the spot, forces my brain into static, then bulldozes me until I forget what I was angry about.

“I just broke up with Ethan,” I snap, the words tumbling out like glass shards. “Do you get that? I am broken. My chest feels like it’s caving in, and you’re here talking about what? Some boss? Some ridiculous idea that I should be grateful he’s considering me like I’m some bargain he wants to buy?”

Mara doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move. Her eyes stay locked on mine, steady and frustratingly soft.

“Yes,” she says. Just that. Yes.

I let out a bitter laugh that doesn’t sound like me. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re hurt,” she answers simply, taking a step closer. “And you’re mad at me because I’m the one here. But none of that changes the truth. Ethan was never coming back, Lyra. Not after everything. Not after your cousin.”

Her words hit me in the ribs, low and hard. Clara’s glowing smile flashes through my mind again, her perfect hair and staged laughter in those photos that shattered me. My cousin. My blood.

My hands clench at my sides. “Why my cousin, Mara? Of all the women in this world, why her?”

She exhales, tired and heavy, as if she’s carrying both of us on her back. “Because he’s a coward. Because he wanted someone close enough to hurt you and still convince himself it wasn’t his fault. Because he doesn’t deserve the time you’re giving him right now.”

The silence stretches, filling the room with something thick and unbreathable.

I sink down onto the edge of the bed, my voice breaking in half. “I thought the worst pain was when he left. I thought nothing could hurt worse than that.” I press my palms into my knees, staring at the floor. “But I was wrong. This, this feels like I’m dying and still awake for it.”

Mara kneels in front of me, her hands finding mine again even though I tried to push her away earlier. Her grip is warm, solid, grounding.

“You’re not dying, Lyra,” she says firmly. “You’re surviving. And I know you don’t see it right now, but someday you’re going to look back and thank yourself for walking through this.”

Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’ve cried too many times for Ethan already. No more.

“Why are you even telling me about your boss?” I whisper, almost choking on the words.

Her face softens, but her voice doesn’t waver. “Because I need you to see that there’s more waiting for you than this pain. He’s powerful, Lyra. Respected. And when he talked about marriage, he didn’t want someone loud or flashy. He wanted someone real. Someone softer. Someone steady.”

The sick twist in my stomach returns, stronger this time. “And you thought of me?”

Mara’s mouth lifts into a smile, but it’s strained at the edges. “I didn’t just think of you. He did too.”

I stare at her like the words don’t make sense in English. My heart thunders so hard, I swear she can hear it.

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe,” Mara admits, squeezing my hands tighter. “But if being insane means I see your worth when you can’t, then fine. I’ll be insane for both of us.”

I pull my hands away, shaking my head, my chest rising and falling too fast. “I can’t do this. I can’t be someone’s second choice again. Not him, not anyone.”

Her eyes glisten, but her voice stays steady. “You were never Ethan’s second choice. You were his lifeline, and he wasted it. Don’t confuse his failure with your value.”

For a moment I cannot speak. The words stick in my throat, heavy and raw. I want to scream and I want to run and I want to tell Mara she is wrong, yet a small part of me, the part that is still breathing, longs to believe her.