Best Friend Cheating Short Stories & Novels

Seconds before the crash, my best friend, Nora Sinclair, threw herself over me to protect me. When she woke up, she'd lost her memory and mistook my fiancé, Julian Pierce, for her boyfriend. There were five of us in our friend group, and for the sake of her recovery, we decided it would be best to play along with the mistake. The first month, the trip Julian and I had planned before our wedding became hers instead. Nora held his hand and kissed him while everyone cheered them on, leaving me trailing behind with all four of their bags. The second month, Nora moved into the home Julian and I had bought for after the wedding. My name was taken off the deed and replaced with hers. My sister, Yvette Lane, tried to reassure me. "Nora lost her memory saving your life. We're only playing along with this to help her recover." I believed her. I forced myself to smile and played my part through one ridiculous charade after another. Then came the ninth month. I had just finished having my bridal makeup done and hurried to the wedding venue, only to find Nora already wearing my wedding dress, smiling as she stood beside Julian and greeted the guests with her arm linked through his. Yvette patted me on the shoulder. "Nora accidentally found your wedding dress last night. We couldn't bring ourselves to tell her the truth, so just let her have the wedding this time." One of Julian's friends, Yale Lawson, grinned and chimed in, "Exactly. You've already given in eight times. What's one more?" A bitter ache spread through my chest, and suddenly the wedding ring on my finger felt painfully tight. Then I looked up and saw Nora wearing my spare wedding band. It fit her perfectly. Only then did I notice that the wedding dress had always been one size too small on me, yet it fit her perfectly too. Every guest there knew exactly what was going on, but they still laughed and cheered, calling her Mrs. Pierce. That was when I finally understood. From the very beginning, I was the only one who hadn't wanted this "mistake" to become real. With a bitter smile, I slipped off the ring that had been cutting into my finger. Fine. If this was what they wanted, they could have their ninth farce. I was done after this.

My best friend's brother and I have been dating for half a year, and she has no clue. My best friend drags me out on Christmas for a singles' night out. Unexpectedly, we see her brother, Chris Lambert, holding hands and kissing a girl under the fireworks. "Damn, Chris finally got the school belle!" She looks thrilled and pulls me forward to say hi. Chris awkwardly rubs his nose and introduces me to his girlfriend, "This is my sister, and the one beside her is… sort of like my sister too." I smile silently. We have held hands and kissed, yet now, I am just sort of like his sister.

The day before our wedding, I spot a red mark on Alvin Lane's neck, right above his suit collar. Right then and there, I shred my wedding gown, press the scissors to my neck, and demand to know who the other woman is. Alvin tries to calm me down as he swears, "Daph, I swear I didn't cheat on you. Can you please put the scissors down first?" I don't believe him. When my best friend, Esther Ford, finds out, she's even angrier than I am. She helps me check hotel records, comb through credit card statements, and even sits with me outside Alvin's office until the middle of the night. However, we still don't find anything. Esther hugs me and says, "Daph, don't be scared. If there really is another woman, I promise I'll help you find her. And if there isn't, then you can marry him without any doubts." Later, Alvin swears I'm the only woman he'll ever love. He says the wedding invitations have already gone out and begs me not to throw away our five-year relationship on a suspicion without proof. Esther tries to persuade me, too. "I helped you look into it. There really isn't anyone else in his life. Daph, it's your turn to be happy." Even I start to think I really have misunderstood Alvin, so I go ahead and marry him. Then, on my birthday, I find out I'm pregnant. I go home, excited to tell Alvin the good news. However, before I can go inside, I hear his strained voice from behind the door. "Esther, I don't wanna keep hiding this. I'm gonna tell Daphne I want a divorce, and then I'll marry you." The next second, Esther cuts him off, crying. "You can't! Do you wanna ruin us? I'm the person she's trusted most her entire life. If she finds out that the woman she spent all that time looking for was me, what is she supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?" Alvin goes rigid. After a long silence, he quietly pulls her into his arms. I stand outside the door, feeling every drop of blood in my veins turn cold. It turns out the two people I trust most have betrayed me from the very beginning. I look down at the pregnancy test results in my hand. Suddenly, I start laughing until tears stream down my face. This time, I want to let go.

I had been dating my boyfriend, Julian Hayes, for four years, yet my best friend Fiona Blake still looked more like his girlfriend than I did. Whenever the three of us went furniture shopping, the sales associate would hand Julian and Fiona a catalog for couples. Whenever we went out for fondue, the server would ask if Julian and Fiona wanted a photo together. At the beach, a stranger once handed me her phone and asked, "Would you mind taking a picture of your friend and his girlfriend?" I smiled, took her phone, and raised it to take the picture. On the screen, Julian and Fiona looked every bit like a couple. Fiona always brushed it off. "We just have similar face shapes. It's a coincidence." Julian always reassured me. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. You're my only girlfriend." And year after year, I believed him. By our fourth year together, I started pushing him to finally set a wedding date. He said he was too busy and promised we'd set the date the following month. But when the next month came, he had another excuse. Fiona's visa was about to expire. She wanted to stay in the United States, and the easiest way to get a green card was through marriage. I stared at him. "And so?" He was silent for a long moment before finally answering. "I'll marry her first and sponsor her application. It's only a formality. Once she gets her green card, we'll get divorced." For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "And what about me?" He answered without hesitation. "Just give me a few years. It'll be over before you know it." A week later, Fiona posted a photo on Instagram. She held up their marriage certificate and leaned against Julian's shoulder, smiling so widely that her eyes crinkled. The caption read, "As of today, it isn't a coincidence. It's fate." I went back through years of messages. That was when I finally realized the truth. Julian had never once told anyone I was his girlfriend. Whenever strangers mistook Fiona for his girlfrien

For our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband, Elliott Quinn, promises me a special gift. But when the day arrives, I walk in on him tangled in bed with my best friend, Lauren Langley. Hysterical, I confront him, but Elliott answers without a trace of shame. "On our wedding night, you were fast asleep. Your dad was the one who put Lauren in my bed. We've kept it from you for five years, and Lauren has had to put up with it all this time." Then he drops another bombshell. "And your last miscarriage wasn't an accident. Jack saw how heartbroken Lauren was, so he slipped abortion pills into your drink." Shaking with rage, I scream, "Why?" Elliott pulls Lauren behind him protectively and says offhandedly, "I got bored with you. Lauren is better than you in every way. She's gentle and considerate. Even Jack prefers her. She's put up with this for five years. You should count yourself lucky." Lauren darts out from behind Elliott and grabs my hand, refusing to let go. "Sienna, I'm not trying to take your place," she says anxiously. "You'll still be Mrs. Quinn. I'll just be part of the family too. Remember when you said you wanted us to stay together forever? Well, now you've got your wish." With that, she reaches out to hug me. Trembling violently, I shove her away. The next second, a pair of small hands shoves me to the floor. Searing pain tears through my abdomen, and blood won't stop pouring from between my legs. I look up to see my son, Jack Quinn, glaring at me with pure hatred. "You're the most evil mommy in the whole world! Why don't you just die?" In an instant, my vision blanks out, and my ears start ringing. As the life inside me slips away, my heart turns completely cold. I force my lips into a bitter smile. If they all think Lauren is so much better, I'll just step back and let her have the family.

The day before our wedding, Luke Murray got wasted. On the ride home, he looked right at me and slurred, "Cassie, don't bring the kid to the ceremony. Arya can't know I'm the dad." I hit the brakes. Hard. He smacked into the seatback, halfway sobering up. When he finally realized it was me, he just... froze. Then he said real slow, "Guess you heard. Wedding's off—for now. Cassie doesn't want marriage, but the kid's mine, so I gotta step up. She's your bestie, right? You probably feel bad she's doing this alone. So once he's in school, I'll come back and marry you." I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "...That's fine. I don't mind." He didn't say a word when we got home—just grabbed his suitcase and left. I wiped the last tear off my face, sat on the bed, and just stared at nothing. Then my phone lit up. My childhood friend's voice cracked on the other end. "Arya, don't marry him. Please." I didn't say anything for a sec. "Okay."

After my song was cut short at karaoke, I found myself back at the song selection machine. I just had to wait for 28 more songs until it would finally be my turn again. The next song was called "The Answer". My boyfriend, John Aldama, and my best friend, Selena Summers, gave each other a look of mild disdain but decided to sing the duet to prevent an awkward silence. Their voices, one cool and one sweet, complemented each other perfectly. Ever since high school, they'd been neck and neck on the honor roll, always vying for first and second place. Even after joining a top-tier company, they'd constantly bicker over projects. Even years after graduation, the people in our high school group chat were still "shipping" their "love-hate dynamic". No matter how hard I tried, I always remained the forgotten third person, an overlooked backdrop. Listening to them sing, I suddenly felt so tired. I no longer felt like singing the song that I had to wait endlessly for. I quietly deleted the song I'd selected and sent a confirmation to the email that asked me to be relocated abroad for work.

The day Preston Guest and I were supposed to register our marriage, I arrived at the courthouse only to find him and my best friend, Mallory Vaughn, holding their newly issued marriage certificate. Mallory laughed as she draped an arm around his shoulders. "I lost a bet, so he had to marry me first. We'll get divorced in a month. It won't get in the way of you two being together." Preston slipped an arm around her waist and made me out to be the one who could not take a joke. But he had forgotten what he had said when my mother was rushed into the ICU, and I had begged him to lend me the money for her surgery. "As a businessman, I've always look at value and return on investment. What do I get out of lending you that kind of money? Besides, my money isn't for charity. Adults have to learn how to stand on their own." Yet he had no trouble wiring Mallory three million dollars in startup capital. "Go ahead and use it to get some experience. If you lose it, I'll take the hit." From hiking trips and vacations to marriage proposals and getting married, Preston made bet after bet for Mallory, and every single time, he left me behind. When I did not make a scene, Preston nodded in satisfaction. "That's more like it. Come on, let's grab dinner and celebrate." I pushed them away and handed Preston the breakup agreement I had already signed. "No, thanks. You taught me what independence means: no more spending your money, waiting for you to marry me, or needing you. "I wish you two a long and happy marriage."

My best friend, Susie Young, broke a bone while saving my boyfriend's mother. So my boyfriend, Josh Wagner, had to take care of her after work every day. At first, he still came home afterward. Later, he got tired of going back and forth, so he simply started staying at the hospital dorm. Whenever I asked about Susie's injuries, he always looked helpless. "It takes at least three months for an injury like that to heal. She's probably got a long way to go. If it weren't for repaying her for saving my mom, I wouldn't even bother taking care of her." When Susie heard that, she rolled her eyes. "You think I want you here? You can't even peel an apple properly." They acted so openly that it seemed like there was nothing going on between them. Then one day, my blood sugar dropped, and I accidentally fell down the stairs. My arm was dislocated in the fall. Drenched in cold sweat from the pain, I called Josh. He sounded helpless. "Susie has rehab today. I really can't get away. Take a cab to the ER yourself." I dragged myself to the hospital, my arm limp and weak. I stopped by Susie's room. When I pushed the door open, the room was empty. A nurse told me Susie had been discharged two weeks ago and was recovering at home. I stood frozen in the hallway, my hands and feet cold and numb. Then a post from Josh's mom popped up on my phone. "Josh is all grown up now. He finally brought his future wife home!" In the video, Susie and Josh were fooling around in matching aprons. They both saw the post and liked it at the same time. Neither of them offered an explanation.

Because the company had a strict no-dating policy, my boyfriend and I kept our relationship a secret for ten years. During those ten years, I stayed by his side through his lowest moments, took care of his parents, and even carried his child. Our tenth anniversary happened to fall on the same day as the company’s team-building event. The man had always hated public attention. Out of nowhere, he suddenly announced that he wanted to propose to the woman he loved. In an instant, everyone looked at me with surprise and envy. They all assumed I was the one. I was so touched that tears filled my eyes, when he held out a ring and got down on one knee before my best friend.

On June nineteenth—the day my boyfriend and I had planned to get our marriage license—he vanished without a word. It wasn't until that night that I stumbled across a post on his social media. He'd forgotten to block me from seeing it. "From twenty to twenty-eight, our youth: signed, sealed, delivered." The photo attached showed two marriage certificates. In the wedding picture beside it, a girl I didn't recognize leaned into his shoulder, beaming. Furious, I opened the comments to demand an explanation, and found my best friend's message waiting there instead. [Congratulations to the old flames who finally found their way back to each other!] My chest went tight. My hands shook as I called her. After a long silence, she finally told me the truth. "Yeah. They've been together for eight years. Everyone already knew. We didn't hide it to hurt you. We were just scared you'd make a scene. "Alice and Chase were always the better match. It wasn't easy for them to get to where they are today. Why make things hard on another woman? Just be the bigger person." The tears that fell were cold as ice, but where they landed, they burned straight through me. Twelve years together, and for eight of them, Chase Peterson had loved someone else. Everyone had known. They'd just all agreed to keep it from me.

After I got a second shot at life, the very first thing I did was enroll in an intensive weight-loss boot camp. In my past life, my boyfriend was always on my case about my weight. He flat-out told me he wouldn't put a ring on it unless I got down to a hundred pounds. I tried every diet and workout plan out there—I pushed myself to the edge—but instead of losing, I packed on even more pounds. Meanwhile, my so-called best friend ate cheeseburgers, fries, and pizza like it was her job and still dropped from 130 pounds to a hundred in less than a month. The second she hit that magic number, my boyfriend's head turned. They started sneaking around behind my back. When I finally confronted them, they shoved me off a rooftop. It wasn't until after I died that I discovered the truth: my "best friend" had linked herself to a weight-transfer system. Every single pound I struggled to lose went straight to her. And every ounce of fat she should have gained? It landed right back on me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the exact day my boyfriend gave me his hundred-pound ultimatum. With every memory of my past life intact, I couldn't help but smile. My best friend wants to be skinny, does she? Well then, let's see how she likes being nothing but skin and bones. Let's see if forty-five pounds is skinny enough for her.

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”

Six years into our long-distance relationship, I secretly went to Riverport to surprise my boyfriend for his birthday. At the top-rated bakery in town, I noticed the custom cake a girl beside me had picked up. Written across the top were the words, "To Dawson Reed, with love." My boyfriend's name was Dawson Reed. Noticing my lingering gaze, she struck up a conversation. "You're here to order a cake? Good choice. I come here every year for my boyfriend's birthday cake." Her friend teased her. "Boyfriend? He's going to be your fiance soon!" The girl blushed and playfully shoved her friend. "Stop it." Then she pulled up photos of the cakes she had ordered over the years. "These designs are all really cute. Take a look. Maybe you'll find one you like." In the photos, the girl was in the man's arms, the two of them smiling happily as they held the cake together. Turned out it was not a case of two men sharing the same name. Her fiance was indeed my boyfriend, Dawson Reed.

After my best friend, Lynn Barrett, loses her memory, she forgets all about me. But somehow, she still remembers my boyfriend, Shane Wesley. Therefore, she naturally begins relying on him. She has Shane cook for her, wash her hair, and even carry her around Jinton. But he has never done any of those things for me. When I am starving and my blood sugar drops, he says, "Aurelia, I can't cook, but I ordered takeout for you. Just wait a little longer." When I cut my hand and can't get it wet, he says, "Aurelia, I'm a bit of a germaphobe, so I can't wash your hair. There's a hair salon downstairs. Go there yourself." When I break my leg, he says, "Aurelia, I injured my back before. I can't carry you. Wait here while I get you a wheelchair." But as I watch him make exception after exception for Lynn, I finally can't take it anymore. I say, "Shane, you seem to treat me differently from how you treat Lynn." Yet, Shane never stops peeling an apple for Lynn. "Of course. Lynn has lost her memory and can't do without me. She also refuses to let you get close to her. So, I have no choice but to look after her for you." Look after her for me, he said? Is that why he didn't pull away when Lynn kissed him yesterday? At this moment, I don't want to stay in Jinton with Shane anymore. I buy a ticket back to my hometown for three days later. I also message my mother. "Mom, I'll go on the blind date you mentioned before."

The four of us grew up together in a group home. Once we turned eighteen, we rented an apartment. Whoever got off work first handled dinner. If one of us got sick, the other three took turns staying up to watch over them. My boyfriend, Asher Anderson, always said this was our real home. On the day we moved in, we made a pact. Every Sunday, we would sit down for dinner together as a family. Even if someone was running late, the rest of us would wait. Last year, Damon Williams’ cousin, Sloane Brooks, got kicked out by her family and crashed in our spare room for a while. The first time Sloane stayed late at her job until nine, Asher refused to let us start eating. "She just got here," Asher said, "Let's not make her walk through the door right into a finished meal." The second time, her phone died, and she didn’t stumble back until eleven. The four of us sat there starving, chewing on random snacks to keep our stomachs from growling, while the food stayed warm on the stove. Sloane’s eyes turned red, and she whispered that whenever she used to go home in the past, nobody ever waited up for her. This Sunday, I was stuck working late at the after-school center. Right before I was supposed to clock out, a kid spiked a fever, and I had to stay until their parents arrived. I dropped two separate updates in our group chat, promising I would be home by nine-forty at the absolute latest. At nine-thirty-eight, I pushed open our front door. The dining table held only four used plates and bowls. The pots in the kitchen were already washed and put away. Sloane looked slightly apologetic. "My stomach was hurting from hunger, so Asher said we should just eat. You’re not mad at me, right?" Asher reached out and took the bag from my hand. "There’s ham in the fridge. Want me to make you a sandwich?" I told him I was fine. Damon chimed in from the couch, shrugging, "You used to come home late all the time and make your own food. We figured you were used to it." I really was used to it. I couldn’t help remembering that just last month, when Sloane came back late, I had personally saved the entire plate of her favorite garlic shrimp so she would not miss out. The next day, our landlady, Mrs. Foster, dropped by to talk about renewing the lease. I told her I would not be renewing my room when the lease expired. That Sunday at dinner, they were still sitting in the living room, discussing whether they should buy a bigger dining table next month.

At her engagement party, my best friend, Hannah Sawyer, caught her fiancé cheating. Ryan Carter didn't apologize. Instead, right there in front of everyone, he sneered, "Who else would ever want you besides me?" Hannah was crying so hard she could barely stand. Without thinking, I grabbed my boyfriend Yates Grant's hand and placed it in hers. "Who says nobody wants you? "Starting now, he's your boyfriend." Yates froze for a second. Then he went along with it, taking off his jacket and draping it around Hannah's shoulders before leading her out by the hand in full view of everyone. That night, the three of us sat together drinking and laughing about the whole thing. It was only supposed to be an act, just this once. But Ryan kept harassing Hannah afterward. So Yates continued playing her fake boyfriend. He picked her up from work, walked her home, and helped convince her parents that she'd moved on. I never once doubted either of them. Not until I came across a post online. [I borrowed my best friend's boyfriend to make my cheating ex jealous. Now I don't want to give him back. What do I do?] The poster said her best friend had personally offered up her boyfriend. Their first time holding hands had been fake. Their first hug had been fake. But the first night he spent at her place had been real. People in the comments tore into her for betraying the friend who had helped her. She replied: [He said that since he slept with me that night, he'd take responsibility for me.] I stared at the photo of the three of us sitting in our living room, my hands and feet turning ice-cold. I'd only lent her my boyfriend for one night so she could save face. They'd turned that one night into the rest of their lives.

On the day I finally paid off the mortgage on our marital home, my boyfriend, Jesse Culver, keeps ignored my calls even though we were supposed to go register our marriage today. Instead, I received a message from my ex-husband, Dave Grossman. "What does it feel like to be betrayed for the second time?" I was stunned when a video pops up. Inside a private room, Jesse was taking wedding photos with another woman, happily leaning against her. My dad, Chris Lillard, who had wished me a smooth marriage registration that very morning, was smiling adoringly at them. My friends and classmates were cheering them on, too. "Kiss! Kiss!" The bride-to-be in the video was my former best friend, Nicki Jones. When I was eight months pregnant, she slept with Dave. After I miscarried, I divorced him immediately and cut all contact with her. Dave kept messaging me. "Looks like your best friend really is irresistible." "Jesse called me a bastard back then and wanted to beat me to death. But now, he's deceived you for her too." Being betrayed for the second time hurts so badly that I can barely breathe. Five years ago, it pushed me into depression. Jesse was the one who pulled me out of it. However, five years later, he joined forces with my family and friends to betrayed me for the same woman. The next second, Dave sent me an address. He texts, "Want to go take a look? It's up to you."

The day Declan James filed for divorce again, the judge gave us one final thirty-day chance to reconcile. Three years ago, when I first found out he was cheating, I smashed his car windshield, staked out his hotel, and even stood on the edge of a roof like a lunatic, screaming at him, "Who on earth is she?!" But he refused to answer. He only repeated the same words. "Harper, let's just get a divorce." My parents told me I had lost my mind. My brother, Henry Sullivan, begged me to stop tormenting myself. Even my best friend, Emma Anderson, wrapped her arms around me with bloodshot eyes and pleaded. "Stop digging, Harper. He's not worth destroying your life over." However, I couldn't let it go.

When I pushed through the main door, covered in blood, I found my amnesiac husband right on top of my best friend. His arm was wrapped around her waist with practiced ease, and she was passionately reciprocating his advances. "Ada will be devastated if she finds out…" Camilla said in a sweet voice through bated breaths. "After all, she really thinks you've lost your memories." Lucio chuckled softly and said in a mocking tone, "It's not my fault she loves me that much. Then again, it's a good thing for me since I can just let her do all the tough and dirty work." He leaned down and planted a kiss on Camilla's lips, mumbling, "Right now, you're the only one I recognize as my wife. Just wait. Once I sign the deal with the Della Veras, I'll have her kicked out and pass everything she owns to you. After all, I no longer remember a thing." Only then did it hit me. My husband's amnesia was all an act, a farce to fool me. Moreover, my best friend conspired with him to stab me in the back. Too bad they didn't know that the Della Vera family, the most feared Mafia family in Ritelle, only acknowledged one person: Me, Ada Rossi.