Best Friend Short Stories & Novels

Ever since my best friend, Aurelia Westbrook, moved in next door, my boyfriend, Xavier Whitmore, couldn’t stop complaining about her. “She’s so completely useless,” he’d scoff. “If she doesn’t know how to cook, she should just order takeout. If she can’t figure out the washing machine, she should take her clothes to the dry cleaner. Why does she have to keep bothering you all the time?” I smiled and tried to explain. “Aurelia’s family went bankrupt. Her mother had to let all the household staff go. Normally, she doesn’t know how to do these things yet.” Xavier still wasn’t convinced. He started making bets with me every single day. “I bet that woman cuts her finger trying to cook again.” “I bet she leaves the house without turning off the faucet.” “I bet she doesn’t even know how to reset a tripped breaker.” At first, I didn’t think much of it. That was until Xavier made another bet. “I bet she comes over after washing her hair to ask you to blow-dry it for her.” Sure enough, a moment later, Aurelia stood at my front door with dripping wet hair. Except Xavier grabbed the hairdryer before I could even move. “I won the bet, Arabella. Let me go give her a hand.” After that, Xavier went to “give her a hand” every single time. Xavier, who had never done a single household chore in his life, cleaned Aurelia’s air conditioner. Xavier, who had never set foot in a kitchen, simmered soup for Aurelia. He ended up spending far more time in Aurelia’s apartment than he ever spent with me. Eventually, I couldn’t hold back my temper anymore. “Xavier, you make a bet every time, and every time, you go help Aurelia. Have you ever considered that I’m actually your girlfriend?” Xavier didn’t even pause as he twisted open a bottle cap for Aurelia. “Arabella, stop being so unreasonable.” Me? Unreasonable? The next time Aurelia stepped out, I made a bet before Xavier could. “Aurelia left the faucet running. “And the stakes are: let’s break up, Xavier.”

During our beach vacation, my wife, Carla Locke, lets her guy best friend, Alex Dugan, rub sunscreen all over her. "What have you been eating lately? Feels like you've gone up a cup size." The moment I see Alex's hand lingering on Carla's chest, the drink slips from my hand and shatters on the ground. Carla gets upset and tells me off for being so insecure. "We're just messing around. Why do you always overthink everything?" Alex shoots me a challenging look. "Don't be upset, Hubert. Carla and I are just friends. Sometimes, I wish I'd been born a woman. Then, people wouldn't keep misunderstanding our relationship." Carla leans into his embrace and shakes her head as she looks at me. "I wish you'd stop being so sensitive about this. Stop trying to ruin our friendship." However, Carla and Alex don't know that I'm from another world. After completing my mission in the previous world, the system rewards me with one wish. Since they insist they're just best friends, I'll be more than happy to grant his wish to become a woman.

For the 13th time, an AI-generated photo pops up on my feed, showing my best friend, Gwen Spalding, and my boyfriend, Andrew Gunnell, wrapped in each other's arms. Gwen's still a mess after getting dumped so suddenly, so I assume she's mixed Andrew up with someone else again. Then a comment stops me cold. "I was there. Joyce tried to brush it off before and claimed the picture was AI-generated, but let's see her deny this! Besides, look at them. A guy as hot as Andrew belongs with a knockout like Gwen. They look way better together." Attached to the comment is a candid photo of Gwen and Andrew wrapped in each other's arms, in the exact same pose as the picture on my feed. I screenshot the comment and send it straight to Andrew. Instead of explaining himself, he turns it around on me. "You know exactly why I didn't tell you. Gwen's in a really bad place right now. What am I supposed to do, stand back and watch her ruin her life? "The second I show her even a little kindness, you get jealous. Joyce, you really haven't changed at all." Before I can answer, he hangs up on me. I pull up Gwen's social media feed again, and this time, I notice what I missed before. Her first post is from the new restaurant I've told Andrew countless times I want to try with him. The second is from the movie we made plans to see a month ago. I keep scrolling. Everything I'd been looking forward to doing with Andrew, every plan he'd backed out of with one excuse after another, is right there in Gwen's photos. My vision blurs with tears. I reach into the trash, pull out the five-year exchange agreement for Caldria I tossed away moments ago, and sign my name. Once I'm gone, they won't have to lie to me anymore.

My best friend and her boyfriend started a couples' vlog channel together, and it recently went viral online. I immediately followed it, watching every single upload. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that her blurred-out boyfriend acted suspiciously like my husband. When I mentioned it to her, she just flicked my forehead. "Girl, you're so crazy in love that you see your husband everywhere! Keep this up, and I'm gonna start getting jealous!" Blushing, I rubbed my head and quickly changed the subject. That was until my husband's company retreat, where I dragged Barbara Moore along to keep me company. Out of nowhere, our flight back suffered a severe emergency. Flight attendants handed out paper for everyone to write down their final words. With trembling hands, I finished writing mine, only to catch a glance at theirs. They had written down each other's names! My husband turned on his camera, framing both of them in the shot. "Barbara, I'm content to spend my final moments with you. Everyone, this channel won't be updating anymore. Goodbye." Neither of them noticed that off-camera, my face had gone deathly pale. Yet in the end, the plane managed to land safely. None of us died. I didn't cry or throw a scene. Instead, I simply tore up my final note, opened the car door, and got in. "What are you guys standing there for? Get in."

I did everything to be a good friend, only to be treated as my so-called best friend’s scapegoat. When her husband found cigarette ash in their house, she claimed I was the one smoking. When she snuck off for a private rendezvous with her lover, she told him she was celebrating my birthday. And when she got pregnant, she pinned the blame on me again, declaring I was consumed with jealousy—that I had spiked her drink and hired someone to violate her. Enraged, her husband marched to my doorstep wielding a blade and hacked me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the exact day she had asked me to cover for her affair.

My husband, Mitch Cooley, has been with me through my fifth year of battling depression. While searching for recipes online, a notification for a late-night livestream for anonymous confessions pops up on my phone screen. "What's the biggest lie your husband has ever told you?" I tap on the notification out of curiosity as my eyes are drawn to the profile picture showing two hands tightly clasped together. The interviewee replies, "I'm still single, but if it's about my stupid best friend, then she'd been lied to by her husband three times. "The first time, her ex-boyfriend died in a car crash while cheating on her, and her now-husband hid the truth on purpose so that she thought the main reason her ex died was that she wanted to break up with him. "Her husband knew all along that her ex-boyfriend had been cheating on her with me, but he watched her try to slit her wrists in remorse multiple times without telling her the truth. "As for the third time, I just mentioned to her husband that he could only ever have a baby with me, and he immediately got himself a certificate proving that he was sexually frigid and refused to sleep with her. "But the most ridiculous thing is that my best friend still stupidly went to get an IVF done while I was rolling in the sheets with her husband every night." I feel alarm bells go off in my head. Mitch had also suddenly experienced sexual frigidity recently. The hospital he went to for treatment was one recommended by my best friend, Lexie Moyer. My hands tremble as I click on the interviewee's profile picture. I then realize that the red mole on the ring finger is the exact same one on Mitch's finger. The interviewee's tone suddenly turns low and restrained. "Even when her husband told her today that he would be working overtime at the company, when he was actually keeping me and our son company, she still made a whole table of dishes waiting for him to come home." I freeze on the spot the moment the interviewee's voice changer malfunctions for a bit. I know that voice too well. It is Lexie's.

The day we take our graduation pictures, I come across a photographer's post. In the caption, he writes, "I've been a photographer for ten years, and this is the first time I've ever done a wedding shoot on the same day as the bride's and groom's graduation! "They're both gorgeous, and they're incredibly patient. The groom doesn't even touch his phone. He just keeps gazing at the bride with so much love. "I spend all day shooting, and my camera's memory card is completely full. But getting to photograph a couple this perfect makes it all worth it!" I think about how my boyfriend, Zack Warner, is absent from our graduation photo session that morning, leaving us without a single picture together in our caps and gowns. Still disappointed about that, I open the photos, feeling envious. The moment I see the bride's and groom's faces, my breathing quickens. The groom is Zack, my boyfriend of four years. He always says we'll get married once he finds a stable job. The bride is my best friend, Wendy Carter, the campus belle. Just two hours ago, Wendy comforts me over WhatsApp, saying there are plenty of men in the world. If I'm upset with Zack, I can always find someone else. But now, she's holding Zack's hand, their fingers intertwined. She's the bride-to-be about to begin her happy new life.

My boyfriend never stayed up late, yet he pulled an all-nighter just to watch the sunrise with my best friend. He insisted it was for work and told me to stop overthinking it. Felix Grant and I had been together for seven years, but I never knew where I stood with him. I stuck with him when he had nothing and helped him build his company from scratch. But in all those years, he'd never spent more than a hundred dollars on a gift for me. He said having money didn't mean we should start wasting it. So I limited myself to less than a thousand dollars a month. Then he spent a fortune at an auction on a necklace just to make Gracie smile. My eyes stung with anger. "Lixi, how is this fair?" He frowned and pulled Gracie into his arms as she trembled. Then he turned to me, clearly annoyed. "Gracie liked the necklace. That's it. Can you stop being so difficult?" My best friend, Gracie Bennett, gave her usual sweet smile and stepped between us. "Lix, don't be so mean to Eunice. Didn't you buy her a gift too? Give it to her." Felix tossed a cheap plastic bag at me. "Gracie picked it out for you. You should thank her." Gracie glared at him and pointed at the stuffed animal inside, the cheap kind sold at roadside stalls. "I told you to say you picked it out for Eunice yourself." Her teasing tone cut straight through me. I dug my nails into my palms, suddenly tired of all of it. In three days, Felix and I would have been together for seven years. Fine. I'd prepare one last gift for the two of them.

The night before the bride-selection ceremony, my best friend was having sex with my childhood friend in the most sacred underground chapel. "You're getting married tomorrow... and I'm just a stray from the slums. How could I ever be worthy of you?" Chloe said, her voice thick with tears. Victor Moretti pulled her closer into his arms. "Isn't what we're doing here proof enough of how I feel? Relax. I've already rigged tomorrow's draw. God will choose you, and only you." "But will your family accept me? Everyone knows Elia is your fiancee. Tomorrow's ceremony is just a formality..." "A formality?" He scoffed. "She doesn't even deserve the effort of me going through the motions. My wife is whoever I say she is." I stood behind the door, my nails digging deep into my palms until the sharp sting kept me alert. I used to think we were each other's rock. But from the beginning, I had been the only one who felt that way. Victor, if tomorrow's ceremony is nothing but a show you can rig however you please, I'm done playing my part. Seven days later, I walked toward the wedding car in my gown. Victor charged toward me like a man possessed, clinging to the car door as he screamed, "Elia, don't marry him! I love you..." I slapped him hard across the face and enunciated every word. "From now on, call me Aunt Elia."

There were only two seats left at the company dinner. One was in the corner, and the other was beside my secret boyfriend of three years, Julian Locke. I had barely taken a step forward when Julian called out to my best friend, Capri Leigh. "Capri, sit here." My coworkers immediately squealed with excitement. The group chat went wild too. "They look so good together. Just seeing them sitting next to each other is a treat!" "Has Mr. Locke ever asked someone to sit with him before?" "I bet he's got a thing for Capri. I don't care. I'm shipping them anyway!" Throughout the dinner, Julian avoided even looking at me to keep people from getting suspicious. Even when a server burned my hand while bringing out a dish, he was still taking Capri's drinks for her. At that moment, one thought suddenly hit me. I didn't want to stay in this secret relationship anymore.

While strolling around the mall, I bend down to tie my shoelaces. When I lift my head again, my boyfriend, Lucas Carter, and my best friend, Kimberly Wendell, are already over 30 feet away. Just as I am about to catch up with them, I notice that the spot that should've been mine is slowly vanishing as the two walk closer and closer. Eventually, they are shoulder to shoulder as they talk about topics that I can't join in on. It's as though a third person was never there. During our university years, Lucas and Kimberly were known as the the school’s most promising “twin stars”. This continued even after we graduated, with them becoming the youngest chief physicians at the hospital. Meanwhile, no matter how hard I work, I can only trail behind them as an ordinary nurse. Lucas is always patting my head, saying, "You're cute, even when you're a little slow sometimes." Then he turns around and works seamlessly with Kimberly to perform one complex surgery after another. As I stare at their backs, I suddenly feel utterly exhausted. I no longer want to continue down this road, forever chasing after Lucas.

At our class reunion, my so-called best friend, Shannon Drew, pulled out a box stuffed with folded notes. A line was taped across the top— [Draw one of Mia Martinez's hopeless-romantic quotes.] The room burst out laughing. Someone pulled a love letter I'd written to Damien Byford senior year. "Damien smiled at me today. I want to give him all my tomorrows, too." Someone else grabbed one from college. "It's okay if he doesn't text back. He'll think of me when he's not busy." Damien had never replied to a single letter. I'd always figured he'd tossed them years ago. Then Shannon drew letter No. 99. Leaning against Damien, she laughed as she read, "If you ever decide you don't want me anymore, I'll still wish you happiness." Damien snatched it from her. "Don't go too far. She embarrasses easily." He told her to stop, but that grin said otherwise. He wanted to see me humiliated too. As Shannon kept reading, she accidentally knocked the box sideways. I bent to pick it up and spotted two tiny lines taped underneath: [Updated monthly. For entertainment only.]

The school secretly introduces a new "bonus score for couples" rule for the SAT, but my boyfriend, who's the top student in our grade, and I overhear it. When I hear that couples can each get 100 bonus points, I joke, "Why don't we sign up and give it a shot?" However, he immediately refuses, all serious and righteous. "No, that wouldn't be fair to everyone else." After saying that, he hurries off without looking back. Feeling ashamed, I decide to apologize to him another day. But the next morning, he publicly announces our breakup in front of the entire class. Then he proudly declares that he is now dating my best friend, the girl at the bottom of the class. He says, "You're always second in the grade. You can get into a top university without even trying. But without those bonus points, she won't even qualify for a community college!" My best friend nestles into his arms. "I'm sorry. I know I stole your boyfriend, but I really need those extra points." I nod in approval and even lead the class in a round of applause, wishing them happiness together. Since my boyfriend left in such a hurry yesterday, he didn't hear the principal's next words. The new rule isn't about giving couples free bonus points. Their scores will be added together and then split equally between the two of them. I can't wait to see if that arrogant top student boyfriend of mine will still be laughing when he realizes his SAT score has to be split with my best friend, who can only manage a score of 400.

My husband, Jared Casey, and I decide to host another wedding ceremony on our 20th wedding anniversary. Just before the ceremony begins, my best friend, Noelle Stark, and Jared are suddenly nowhere to be found. They don't pick up their phones when I call them. I search every nook and cranny and finally hear them arguing inside a private room. "I'm going to come clean to Lilian after the ceremony is over. The children need their father," Jared says. "Don't you dare!" Noelle hisses. "You already secretly tampered with her university application form all those years ago for my sake. I even gave birth to your children. We've already wronged her too many times. We can't hurt her again." The blood in my veins turns to ice. There's a loud buzzing in my ears. The door swings open in the next second. The bewildered look in Jared's eyes is swiftly replaced by indifference when he sees me. "So, you've heard everything. Noelle didn't give birth to her two children via IVF. They belong to me. It's up to you whether you still want to go through with the wedding ceremony." The ground suddenly starts to shake. When Jared realizes that it's an earthquake, he reflexively lunges at Noelle and protects her with his own body. The chandelier that's hanging from the ceiling loosens and comes crashing down on my head. "Lilian…" I have a splitting headache when I force my eyes open and come face-to-face with an 18-year-old Jared. My university application form is tucked under my arm.

Before the Christmas holidays, the four of us besties from Kingsley City held a vote. We had one question on the table: should Mia Williams be allowed to join our tight-knit friend group? I thought my friends and my boyfriend would vote no, just like me. After all, Mia had ulterior motives. She had repeatedly mocked and provoked me, all while shamelessly flirting with my boyfriend. However, I could not have been more wrong. My childhood friend, Jason Miller, remained calm as he said, “I vote yes. Mia is great in every way. Jenna, your jealousy is getting out of hand.” My best friend, Lily Wilson, immediately backed him up. “Exactly! Jenna, you can’t be so selfish. You don’t get to decide who we’re allowed to be friends with.” I clenched my fists and turned to my boyfriend, Evan Taylor. He had already sent Mia an invitation to join our group chat. “Jenna, what’s one more person? Her joining isn't going to hurt you. Don’t be so difficult, okay?” That was when it hit me. The love and friendship I had always been so proud of had both betrayed me when it mattered most.

My best friend and I. A witch and a Fae from Whisperwood. I have the blood of a Seer. My three rune bones can see a kingdom's rise and fall. She's a gold-touched Fae. Born to attract wealth. One roll of the dice in a goblin casino, and she'd empty their vault. When we were eighteen, we found a disgraced Grand Duke in the capital's slums. His stepmother had thrown him out. We saved him. She amassed his gold. I spun his fate. We helped him claw his way back to the capital. He took back his land. His scepter. The first thing he did? He asked my best friend to marry him. They had a son. A gifted heir. I grew tired of the noble squabbles. I went back to my hidden cottage in the woods. Ten years later, a little princess. Blessed by the Moon Goddess. Finally born in the Duke's castle. He was ecstatic. Flew his griffin over the mountains that night. Begged me to come bless his daughter. Of course, I agreed. I stood over the cradle. Drew a sacred blessing rune on the baby's forehead. Before I left, I had a sudden urge. I tossed my three rune bones. A quick look into my friend's future. But they hit the floor and turned to dust. Black magic choked the air. An omen of death. Her soul was gone. Ice flooded my veins. If my best friend was already dead...then who was the Duchess, smiling at me from her velvet chaise?

After I died, the Moon Goddess chose me and gave me a second life. But I had crossed over into a world of werewolves, and my mission was to win the heart of Soren, a notorious charmer who left a trail of admirers wherever he went. He brought me to the rooftop of the tallest building in the city, where countless fireworks bloomed across the sky in unison. "Surprised? I arranged this fireworks show just for you. Do you like it?" The barrage scrolled across my vision: [This is when you pretend to be shy. That's all you have to do.] Shy? Of course I could do shy. I gave him a demure smile, reached up to brush my fingers along his cheek, and gazed at him tenderly. "Surprised, yes. But fireworks are dazzling one moment and gone the next. You're the lasting surprise in my life." With a wave of my hand, the fireworks in the sky rearranged themselves to spell out Soren's name. The air went still. Not even the boom of the fireworks could drown out the hammering of Soren's heart.

The ninth time I tried to divorce my husband, Don Louis Romano, my best friend Jenny Parker, who had always talked me out of it, handed me the papers herself. Every time before, she'd done everything in her power to stop me. She'd even taken over the Family's day-to-day affairs just to create chances for us to see each other and reconcile. I took the papers and couldn't help but ask. Years of pent-up exhaustion showed in Jenny's eyes, and to my shock, her voice was edged with resentment. "You got Vivian shot this time. She nearly didn't make it. How long are you going to keep this up?!" Vivian Hale was the woman Louis had been seeing. I stared at her in disbelief. "Vivian's had a hard life. I'm the one who introduced her to Louis. "I know it's not fair to you, so I've been trying to make it up to you. But you've been at this long enough. It's time to stop." Jenny sighed. "Back during the arms shipment ambush, Louis and I risked our lives to pull you out of that firefight. "If our saving your life means anything, stop using divorce as a way to get Louis's attention." I couldn't speak. My fingers clenched. The love and friendship I'd treasured for years had only ever been real to me. The last ember of loyalty in my heart burned out completely. The moment Jenny looked away, I picked up the pen and signed my name without hesitation. Sherry Bennett. This time, I was really getting a divorce.

During my wedding, someone suggests that we play the game "one dollar and 50 cents". The host will call out an amount that the players will have to match by forming groups. I draw the 50-cent straw, and so does my best friend, Rebecca Cross, who is also the group favorite. My fiance, Ian Chilton, his childhood friend, Richard Price, his older sister, Anne Chilton, and my stepsister, Chelsea Whitmore, all draw one-dollar straws. For the first round, we need to make up a total of 1.50 dollars. I make a beeline toward Ian, but he gazes distractedly at Rebecca. It isn't until he is assured that she won't be eliminated that he finally loosens his painfully tight grip on my hand. Before I can truly feel my disappointment, the second round begins. This time, we need to make up a total of five dollars. Everyone instinctively surges toward Rebecca. I don't pester Ian this time, and he naturally fails to notice that I've been left out. It isn't until the host reminds them that they're 50 cents short that they reluctantly let me into their group. For the third round, we need to make up 2.50 dollars. It's clear that the six of us can conveniently form two groups of said amount, yet they debate heatedly over who gets to be in the group with Rebecca. As time is running out, Richard and Chelsea finally walk reluctantly toward me, having lost in a game of rock-paper-scissors. In the final round, we need to make up 4.50 dollars. As soon as the whistle is blown, they crowd together merrily. Ian even considerately wraps his arm around Rebecca's shoulders out of fear that she'll be jostled. Meanwhile, I'm knocked to the floor by the crowd, my palms digging deeply into splinters sticking out of the wooden floor paneling. From start to finish, nobody spares me a glance. In that instant, everything feels pointless to me. When we played hide-and-seek as children, they only realized I hadn't been "found" after nightfall. When we visited the amusement park as adults, they would always forget to buy my ticket. All things considered, it simply isn't polite to keep trying to fit into a small group that doesn't have room for me.

My best friend, Eleanor Fitzroy, and I both transmigrated into an era of turmoil, where we happen to become students of a legendary seer. I am born with an uncanny gift for divination. With nothing more than three coins, I can read the signs of fate and predict what is yet to come. Eleanor, meanwhile, possesses an extraordinary mind for strategy. She can decipher the most complex military tactics and, with a single formation of her own design, turn the tide against thousands of soldiers. After leaving Ravenvale, our mentor's secluded valley, we join forces to support the disgraced Seventh Prince, Alexander Wyndham, and help him rise to the throne. Alexander soon falls deeply in love with Eleanor. He marries her in a lavish royal wedding, making her the queen of the realm. 15 years into their marriage, they are still as devoted to each other as ever. They have eight sons together. Then, last night, the palace receives joyous news—the empire of Arden has welcomed its first princess since its founding. Overjoyed, Alexander rides through the night with his eight sons and arrives at the gates of Ravenvale, begging me to come out of seclusion and divine Matilda Wyndham's fate. Of course, I agree. I hurry to the royal palace that very night. I place a dab of vermilion on Matilda's forehead and bestow a blessing of peace and safety upon her. With my task complete, I prepare to leave. But on a whim, I toss my coins one more time, intending to divine Eleanor's fate and see what the rest of her life holds in store. The moment the coins hit the ground, however, the signs turn ominous. The reading reveals chaos, death, and a fate that has been sealed long ago. My blood runs cold. If Eleanor has already been dead for some time, then who is the woman lying on the queen's bed, smiling at me so warmly?