Double betrayal

Ashley’s POV

“JOSH!”

Josh froze.

Amy didn’t.

That was the first thing I noticed, even through the ringing in my ears. My boyfriend was in bed with my best friend, and Amy had the audacity to look mildly inconvenienced by my presence.

They were kissing. Passionately. Amy was straddling Josh, her hands tangled in his hair, while his arms were wrapped around her waist.

They looked comfortable. Familiar.

Like this wasn’t the first time.

My knees gave way before my brain could make sense of what I was seeing. I landed on the floor, gripping the doorframe as though it were the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.

“Josh.” My voice came out smaller this time. “What the fuck is happening here?”

He looked at me.

No panic. No guilt. Not even the decency to look embarrassed.

“What does it seem like?”

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell me this was some elaborate joke.

“Josh, why?” My voice cracked. “Why would you do this to me? This wasn’t what you promised us. What happened to us?”

Amy finally moved. She climbed off him, adjusted herself on the bed, and smoothed her hair as though she had just finished an ordinary afternoon activity.

Then she looked straight at me.

I stared at her.

Amy.

My Amy.

The girl who had sat beside me through lectures, stolen fries off my plate, borrowed my lip gloss without asking, and listened to me talk about Josh for hours.

The girl I had trusted enough to call my best friend.

“Amy, you—”

My voice failed me.

I couldn’t deal with her yet.

One betrayal at a time, please. My heart could only take so much, and apparently, these two had decided to test its limits.

“I’m coming back to you later,” I told her, my voice trembling. “Trust me, Amy, we are definitely going to have a conversation. But right now—”

I turned back to Josh.

“Please, just explain what happened. Tell me it’s not true.”

He said nothing.

“Josh, we’ve been together for years. You know me. You know I wouldn’t just—”

“God, Ashley.”

He sounded annoyed.

Annoyed.

He pushed Amy away, grabbed a blanket, and wrapped it around his waist before getting out of bed. I scrambled backward on my knees as he approached, but he didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of me.

“Ashley, did you honestly think we would get married?”

The question landed strangely. Not because I didn’t understand it, but because I understood it perfectly and couldn’t believe he had actually said it.

“What?”

“Did you genuinely think you were going to be my wife?”

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

He let out a humourless laugh.

“Have you ever stopped to think about whether you’re even fit for me? You’re not from a family that fits mine, Ashley. You don’t have the background or the connections my family expects. And honestly, have you seen yourself?”

He gestured towards me, his expression almost mocking.

“Have you seen Amy?”

My eyes drifted towards the bed. Amy was watching us, making no effort to hide her interest.

“You can barely dress well. You’re always wearing those long, thick, overly modest dresses. You hardly know how to socialise, and you can barely speak confidently in front of a crowd.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“And don’t even get me started on our bedroom affairs,” he continued. “You just lie there and agree with everything I say. You’re a fool with low self-esteem, Ashley, and everything you lack, Amy has.”

He shook his head.

“You can never be a quarter of the woman she is.”

I opened my mouth.

Then I closed it.

Because the most infuriating part was that I knew exactly why I had become the woman he was describing.

I wanted to scream that I had changed my clothes because of him. That I used to wear what I liked until he told me he didn’t want other men looking at his woman. He said I didn’t need to dress for anyone else, that I only needed to look good for him.

So I stopped wearing the things he disliked. I bought the dresses he approved of.

Even the way I behaved around people had changed. Josh liked being the centre of attention. Whenever my own personality threatened to take up too much space, he found a way to make me feel as though I was doing something wrong.

So I learned to be quieter.

And now, here he was, standing over me and using those same sacrifices as evidence that I wasn’t good enough for him.

The irony was almost funny.

Almost.

“And the bedroom thing?” I wanted to ask. “Wasn’t it you who said you liked taking the lead? Wasn’t it you who told me you liked that I let you decide what you wanted?”

There had been nights when I hadn’t even reached my own satisfaction, but I had told myself that it was fine as long as he was happy. I had convinced myself that intimacy was supposed to be about making the person you loved feel good, even when you were quietly left wanting more.

I couldn’t get a single word past the lump in my throat.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, then fell faster until I could barely see him through them.

Josh sighed.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

As if he had done me a favour.

Amy shifted against the pillows.

“Ashley, please leave. You’re disturbing us.”

I turned towards her so quickly that my neck hurt.

“Josh and I have been together since our university days. We love each other, and if anything—”

“Stop.”

The word came out of me before I could think.

I didn’t know whether I was speaking to her or myself. I just couldn’t bear to hear another word.

I looked back at Josh, hoping against every shred of evidence that he might finally show some remorse.

Instead, he glanced at the bed.

“Anyway, out of the goodness of my heart, I put your name forward for a surrogacy program. It pays well. I figured you could use the money.”

I went still.

“A what?”

“A surrogacy program,” he repeated impatiently. “They pay well, Ashley. I thought it might be useful to you.”

The room seemed to tilt around me.

The message.

The strange text that had appeared on my phone while I was looking for a dress on P*******t. The Heirs Program.

All this time, he had known.

“You were the one who put my name forward?”

“Yes, Ashley. I just told you that.”

“You signed me up for a surrogacy program without even telling me?”

He shrugged.

“It’s an opportunity. Considering everything, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Appreciate it?”

My voice rose.

“WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?”

He barely flinched.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me, Josh! You don’t get to put my name forward for something like that without asking me. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Can you stop shouting?”

I actually laughed.

It was a short, disbelieving sound that escaped through my tears.

He had cheated on me with my best friend, told me I wasn’t good enough to marry, and made a decision that could affect my body and my future without even discussing it with me.

And he wanted me to stop shouting.

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and stared at him. I searched his face for the boy I’d fallen in love with, the one who had pursued me for two months before I finally agreed to date him. The one who had promised me that our different family backgrounds wouldn’t matter.

I couldn’t find him.

Or perhaps I had spent so long loving the version of him I wanted to believe in that I had never really looked at the man standing in front of me.

“Josh,” I whispered.

He glanced at me impatiently.

That was it.

I wasn’t going to beg him for an explanation again.

I forced myself to stand, gripping the doorframe when my knees wobbled.

Josh was already turning away.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He walked back to the bed.

Back to Amy.

I watched him climb into bed beside her and pull the blanket over them, as though I wasn't standing there.

Then he leaned towards her and kissed her again.

Right in front of me.

Something inside my chest cracked.

I stumbled out of the room, barely registering the hallway or the stairs. My mind remained trapped in that bedroom, replaying his words, his expression, and the ease with which he had dismissed everything we’d shared.

By the time I reached the front door, I was crying so hard that I could barely see the keypad. I fumbled with the lock, muttered a curse, and finally managed to pull the door open.

The cool evening air hit my face.

I stepped outside and shut the door behind me.

And Amy?

I wasn’t ready to think about Amy.

Not yet.

My phone rang.