Best Friend Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

Jake Carter called and asked to meet. We settled on the small hometown diner we used to hit up. He couldn't look me in the eye the entire time, and we didn't exchange a word during the meal. It wasn't until we were about to leave that he finally pulled a property deed from his bag. "This is for you," he said. "I accept my defeat. Consider it compensation for your emotional distress. Your name is already on it." I didn't bother with polite refusals. I took the deed, mumbled a quick thanks, and got up to leave. Jake scrambled to his feet, calling out from behind me with the one question he'd been burning to ask all along. "If you loved me back then, why did you let Brenda get to me first?" I turned around, looking him in the eye for the first time all day. "Are you really going to pretend you never knew how I felt? You were just playing dumb the whole time." "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "Can we still get dinner together tomorrow?" "Forget it. I don't need your apology," I said blandly. "You were a victim in this mess, too. As for dinner, don't bother. I'm resigning from the company tomorrow, and it's best if we don't see each other again." The iron wire ring I once treasured as proof of love had turned out to be a cage. Stepping out of the diner, I threw the rusted ring straight into the trash. From now on, I would live for myself.

My body has a special nourishing effect. However, both of my marriage engagements were called off. My first fiance was a religious man who broke his celibacy to make love to me. He canceled the engagement because he couldn't forgive himself. My second fiance was my childhood friend. He made love to me every night. Then, he apologized to me and said I couldn't satisfy him. When I was about to take my life, I saw them acting out a pure love story at my friend's bedside. "Sophia, I won't force you if you don't want to do it." "For you, I'm fine with keeping our relationship platonic. I don't mind if we never do it. I can hold myself back!" They treat her gently, as if she will shatter with a single kiss. I put the noose away and call my father. "Dad, I'm not against it anymore. You can send me to the son of the Lowell family to treat his impotence."

In my third year working overseas as a war correspondent, a grenade blast left me wounded and stripped me of my memories. The PTSD that followed was severe enough to keep me in a psychiatric hospital for two years. It wasn't until two months ago that I finally remembered who I was. The day I came home, my best friend and my husband met me at the airport, both of them crying harder than I was. Russell Ellison's eyes were red-rimmed, but his voice was as gentle as ever. "The new place is all set up. Move in for now. I'll come keep you company after work." I went back to our old house instead. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw a wedding photo hanging on the wall. The bride in it wasn't me. It was my best friend. A key turned in the lock outside. The man who was supposed to be buried in work at the office walked in, fingers laced with hers. A child was tucked against his chest, calling him "Daddy" in a small, unsteady voice. I stood frozen, too stunned to breathe. We'd only been apart for two years. So how was their child already three?

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?”

At the company team dinner, my boyfriend, Jax Vance, went out of his way to grab two drinks. He handed one to Chloe Ward, my best friend sitting across from us. He set the other one down in front of me. My friend smiled and bowed her head. "You're so thoughtful, Jax. You always remember my stomach can't handle ice." I looked down at the mango slush. I pushed the cup away without a word. "What's wrong?" Jax asked casually. "I'm deathly allergic to mangoes," I said. "Did you forget again?" He paused for a second. Then he let out a careless laugh. "It's not a big deal," he said. "Just scoop the fruit out." He remembered every detail about her. She didn't eat cilantro. She hated onions. She only drank her tea with thirty percent sugar and no ice. But he forgot that my throat would close up if I touched a mango. To him, that was just something I could "scoop out." I finally saw the truth. When someone didn't care, even life-or-death moments would mean nothing to them. On the ride home, I sat alone in the backseat. I watched the two of them in the front. They looked so good together. Suddenly, a strange wave of relief washed over me. A relationship where my life didn't even matter? I didn't want it anymore.

Three years into her marriage, Chloe James knew something was wrong. She had pain, itching, and occasional bleeding, symptoms she was too embarrassed to discuss. She finally made a secret appointment. Lying cold on the examination table, she flinched as the doctor looked inside. "You're so young to have an IUD," the doctor remarked casually. "Why did you decide not to have kids?" Chloe's mind went blank. Her nails bit into her palm. "IUD? Doctor, that's impossible. I had a miscarriage two years ago. I've been trying ever since. I've done six rounds of IVF. Why would I have an IUD?" The metal instrument pressed in. Chloe gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "It's no mistake," the doctor sighed. "The coil has grown into your uterine tissue. "If you'd waited much longer to come in, the damage could've been much worse." Chloe's heart plummeted. Two years ago, she ate a slice of almond cake handed to her by her husband, Michael James. Then, her severe allergic reaction triggered a miscarriage. Her best friend, Sarah Daniels, a top OB-GYN, slapped her husband, Michael, right in front of her. "How could you be so careless?" Sarah sobbed, clutching Chloe's hand. "Hang in there, Chloe! I'll do everything to save your baby!" Sarah even knelt by the bed afterward, weeping. "I couldn't save the baby... I'm so sorry, Chloe." Ever since that tragic night, Chloe had never been able to conceive again.

The night before I was supposed to leave for my study trip to Bath, my boyfriend Ethan suddenly tagged me in our three-person group chat. "Nora, check your train ticket. There's a surprise." I opened the railway booking app. The ticket from London to Bath had turned gray. The page read clearly: Trip cancelled. Refund issued to the original payment method. The cancellation had been made yesterday afternoon. Before I could even type a reply, messages started flooding the chat one after another. My best friend Sophie sent a string of laughing emojis first. "Ethan, you lost again. You're covering all the coffee this month! I told you she wouldn't notice even the day before." Ethan replied quickly, "Fine, you win. Nora, you're so oblivious. Hurry up and buy an open ticket without a reserved seat. Sophie and I will take turns giving you ours once we're on the train." They chatted away enthusiastically, the screen filled with emojis celebrating their winning bet. Just like the camping trip, when they'd bet on whether I would cry over beetles and deliberately broke my tent zipper. Or the time before that, when they'd bet on how long it would take me to start wheezing after accidentally eating peanuts, and hid my EpiPen in the highest kitchen cabinet. Every time I told them with red-rimmed eyes that I really did mind, their answer was always the same. "What's the big deal?It was just a joke." I stared at the group chat for a long time. In the end, I said nothing. I left the three-person group and bought a plane ticket to Inverness for the next day. I wanted to see the lakes of the Scottish Highlands in winter, to see just how blue the sky could be when the wind swept across the moors. On my own, done with toxic people for good, the scenery might be just right.

Before our wedding, Cyrus Lane and I each folded fifty paper stars, wrote a wish inside every one, and filled a glass jar with all one hundred. We promised we wouldn't open it until our fifth anniversary. Today was that day. Cyrus said he had a meeting at work and that we'd celebrate later, but I couldn't wait. So I opened the jar by myself and started with my stars. "I hope we spend every anniversary together." "I hope I'll always come first in his heart." "I hope we grow old together." Smiling, I reached for one of his. The first read, "Remember to get her an almond latte every Wednesday afternoon." The second: "Remember, her stomach is sensitive. Don't order anything spicy when you eat together." The third: "Remember, she's afraid of thunder. Stay with her whenever there's a storm." I was allergic to almonds. I had never drunk almond lattes. I loved spicy food, and Cyrus had never once cared whether it upset my stomach. And in all five years of our marriage, whenever a thunderstorm rolled in, he always claimed something had come up at work and left me home alone. I kept unfolding the stars. By the time I'd opened all fifty, there wasn't a single one with my name on it. The almond lattes, the sensitive stomach, the fear of thunder. Every detail belonged to my best friend, Quinn Xavier. Then I heard a key turn in the lock. Cyrus walked in carrying a cake. "Happy fifth anniversary..." He stopped when he saw the table covered in unfolded notes. I looked up at him from where I sat amid the scattered paper. "Consider your wish granted. "Go be with her."

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."

My so-called best friend pretends to be me and steals my identity as the CEO. She spends money recklessly and announces she'll buy apartments in the city for our long-time employees. Everyone praises her as the perfect boss. Not only that, but she also steals my husband. Even my son calls her "Mommy". So, when I'm accused of having bipolar disorder and other mental health issues, no one speaks up for me. My young son has no idea that I am his birth mother. The company and assets my parents have left me have been taken by my best friend, too. In the end, my body ulcerates, and I pass away in a psychiatric hospital. When I open my eyes again, I realize I'm back on the day my best friend used my money to buy apartments for our employees. She stands in the center of the crowd, taking in all the praises. "You're beautiful and so is your heart, Ms. Moore! You care about us so much, always handing out bonuses. And now, you want to set up a fund to help us buy homes? I'd work for you until I die!" And so, I quietly change the password on the bank card that funds all this. This time, I'll make sure my dear friend and my beloved husband experience the "wonderful" life they truly deserve.

My best friend, Kahlan Ellis was invited by an online acquaintance to explore an abandoned school. I told her it was dangerous and urged her not to go. A young woman nearby overheard our conversation, got curious, and went with him instead. Later, the local news blew up with a trending story about how a wealthy heir and a village girl who met during an exploration adventure had fallen in love and lived happily ever after. Around that time, I was preparing to get married. On the night before my wedding, Kahlan pushed me off a high-rise. "If you hadn't stopped me from going back then, I'd have married rich by now! You deserve to die!" It was only then that I realized how much she had resented me all this while for stopping her that day. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day she first asked me to go on that exploration. In the parking garage, Kahlan looked at me excitedly and asked, "Patricia, do you think I should go explore that abandoned school with Robert?"

It happened on the last shipment run I ever went on. My boyfriend and my best friend left me behind at the transfer station. I waited there for half an hour before they remembered they were one person short. Lawson called me, impatience all over his voice. "Why didn't you get in the truck?" "We're in a hurry for the celebration dinner tonight. We can't turn around." "Stop making a scene. Figure it out yourself." My mouth opened. No sound came out. Beth's voice carried through the line, clear and grating. "We're all adults here. Why does every little thing have to be handled for her?" "She has to grow up sometime." I listened to all of it and hung up without a word. The old me would have apologized on the spot, then done everything I could to catch up with them without causing a single problem. But this time, it all just felt pointless. I canceled every arrangement the family had made for me. I sent my mother a message: [I want to go to Northbay and take over the family business there.] They had always looked down on Northbay for being too small. But I had always wanted to go. I would never have to chase after them again. I would follow only myself.

My best friend was a D-list influencer who'd blown six months of savings to drag me to a so-called "socialite finishing school." But then the instructor made us slap each other across the face — an "obedience test." I couldn't help it. I laughed. The next second, my friend was blacklisted from the entire circle, and her agent sent a termination notice. The instructor pointed at me and gave my friend an ultimatum: "Get on your knees. Slap her ten times. Then I'll lift the ban." My friend cried, trembling as she walked toward me. I sighed. The billion-dollar inheritance I'd just received — looks like the secret was about to come out.

My best friend, Adeline Miller, and I marry into the Caldwell family together. Coincidentally, we become pregnant at the same time. I'm married to Rowan Caldwell, the older brother who's a famous psychiatrist. As for Adeline, she's married to Elliot Caldwell, the younger brother who's an extremely skilled doctor. Rowan gives me a ride to the hospital, hoping to accompany me to my prenatal check-up due to the discomfort I've been feeling throughout my pregnancy. But on the way there, he abandons me by the road and leaves me there because of a phone call from his first love, Veronica Whitmore. As I sob, I beg him, "Please, Rowan, I'm begging you! It's raining heavily right now! Can you please drive me to the hospital first?" Rowan shakes my hand off impatiently. "Veronica has slit her wrist! This means she might die! Can you be more understanding toward her situation, Emilia? I'm going to tend to her injury right now! You can go to the hospital on your own!" It's raining cats and dogs out in the world. Yet, Rowan doesn't hesitate to ditch me on the highway. Left without a choice, I can only call Adeline and ask her to drive over to pick me up. Unexpectedly, on the way to the hospital, we see a truck barreling toward us. While I'm unconscious, I hear Adeline crying while calling Elliot on the phone, only to get reprimanded by him. "Stop messing around, Adeline! Must you come up with all sorts of lies whenever I'm spending time with Veronica?" It's thanks to a passerby's help that an ambulance is called to the crash site. That's how we get to survive afterward. Alas, we both end up losing our babies. Upon regaining our consciousness, we just smile bitterly at each other. "Are you getting a divorce?" "Yeah."

When my best friend was being beaten by her ex, I was the one who paid off her treatment, bought her an apartment, and put up the money for her to open a clothing boutique. Six months later, she was pregnant with my fated mate's child. She knelt in front of me and cried. "You've had him for ten years. Just let me have him this once." My mate told me she would be the pack's new Luna. As for me, I could stay on at the company, making money for them and cleaning up their messes. He said it like it was obvious, because for five years I had been the one closing the clients and holding the team together, the one who turned a nearly bankrupt Blackpine Group into the leader of its industry. But a woman like me never allows a single crack in her own relationship, and as for those two, I was going to show them exactly what regret feels like!

On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off. "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says. Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks. As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily. What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize. The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket. "I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?" I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle. By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below. The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket. Here comes my second chance.

The room falls silent when the butler of the Sherwoods places the DNA test results on the table. In my previous life, the real heiress, Phoebe Sherwood, is so greedy for wealth that she forces me to stay in the slums in her place. Later on, the Sherwood family is accused of money laundering. Their whole business empire collapses. Meanwhile, after news breaks that my poor parents and I win a lottery worth over 100 million dollars, someone targets and murders us. We die with hatred in our hearts. Now, in this life, Phoebe suddenly acts as if she's gone crazy. She throws her arms around our impoverished adoptive mother, whose clothes are covered in patches. She says, "I'm not leaving! Rosalyn is spoiled and delicate. She can't handle hardship. Let her stay with the wealthy family and enjoy a life of luxury. I want to stay with my parents and fulfill my duties as their daughter!" She cries pitifully, but when she turns around to sign a document severing ties with the Sherwoods, she can't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. My adoptive father is so moved that tears stream down his face. "Get out of here! The daughter we raised ourselves is the thoughtful one. We can't afford to associate with an ungrateful wretch like you!" The Sherwoods frown as they look at me. They open their mouths as if to say something but ultimately remain silent. My face devoid of any expression, I look at my adoptive family before turning and walking toward the luxury car. "Dad, Mom, let's go home." Phoebe is clueless. She doesn't know that in my previous life, I was the one who bought those winning lottery tickets.

My sister Isolde and I used to be human. The twin vampire princes, Caelum and Dorian, turned us and married us. The entire vampire world celebrated. Two human sisters, personally turned by the Crown Princes? It was the highest honor a mortal could receive. We believed we were loved. We were fools. Five months into my pregnancy, I was attacked by a group of exiled vampires in the forest beyond our territory. I called Caelum nine times. He didn’t pick up. The exiles circled me, cutting into my arms and legs with blades that burned. Pain tore through my body. I called a tenth time. This time, Caelum’s cold voice came through: “Haven’t you had enough? Vivienne is being tracked by hunters. Stop bothering me.” Vivienne was the human girl that both princes truly loved. The one who had refused to be turned. With nothing to stop them now, the exiles closed in. Their leader drove a blade into my stomach. I watched the light leave my body from the inside out, and felt my unborn child die. When I was close to death, my sister Isolde found me and fought the exiles off. But there were too many. Isolde was badly wounded. She called her husband Dorian for help. All she got was: “Looking for Vivienne. Don’t bother me.” Isolde carried me and ran. A storm hit and we were caught in the open at dawn—deadly for wounded vampires. The border patrol found us just in time. We barely survived. When I woke up in the infirmary, my first thought was simple: Sever the bond.

My best friend, Sabrina Reeves, hates children. She wants a child of her own, but she doesn't want to give birth to her own child. So, she sought me out and asked me to help give birth to a child for her. She even claimed that her child would be my child, and that they'd take care of me when I grew old. I thought she was crazy. Also, I warned her that it was illegal to find a surrogate mother in our country. Out of fury, Sabrina cut off all ties with me and called me a shameless wretch. "It's just giving birth to a child! I can do that too!" But Sabrina started smoking, drinking, and bar-hopping a lot. She could never get pregnant no matter what. After that, her husband brought his mistress and illegitimate child home before kicking Sabrina out. "Even a hen is capable of laying eggs! I've married you for so long, yet you can't even get pregnant! You really are a loser! "I never said anything about you wanting your best friend to give birth to my child! But you can't even get that done! Isn't this all your fault?" Sabrina pinned the blame on me. She slashed my stomach open repeatedly with a blade. Just like that, I died from the sheer pain. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Sabrina asks me to help give birth to a child for her.

In the second year of my divorce battle with Adrian Pierce, the judge awarded him everything. As I was packing, my daughter pulled an old cell phone out of one of the boxes. "Mommy, look. It still turns on." I tapped the screen, and an email popped up. It was one I had written to myself 10 years ago. "Clara, how are you at 28? Did you marry the man you love? Is your baby adorable? He loves kids so much. You two must be so happy together." Tears splashed onto the screen as I typed back, one sentence at a time. "I did get married, and we had a daughter. However, I found out he was cheating on me with my best friend, our daughter's godmother, during the third year of our marriage. We spent two years fighting through the divorce, and he won. I walked away with nothing." A reply came back mere seconds after I hit the send button. "You're lying! Adrian and Avery love me more than anyone else in the world. They would never betray me like that." A bitter smile tugged at my lips as my trembling fingers typed another swift but brutal reply. "The people who loved you the most? Funny. Our daughter was born with a congenital heart defect. She wouldn't survive without surgery. I got down on my knees and begged Adrian for the money to save her, but he accused me of trying to scam him. "He froze every one of my accounts and used the money from our wedding gifts to pay for his wedding with Avery. The invitations have already been sent out. "Wake up, Clara. Adrian will no longer love you 10 years from now. Now that you know the cruel truth, it's your choice whether to walk away now or stay with him."