Best Friend Romance Short Stories & Cheating Novels

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.

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 rushed back from out of town overnight when my best friend, Siobhan Coventry, went into labor. After learning that both mother and child were safe, I got teary-eyed with emotion. "Have you decided on the baby's name yet?" I asked. Her smile stiffened unnaturally for a moment. "Leonard Kessler. We'll call him Leo." "Kessler?" I stared at her in surprise. "I thought you said the baby would take your last name. Is his biological father's last name Kessler?" She gave me a vague hum before quickly changing the subject. "Ginny, I've been craving the wraps from that place in the college town." I nodded, forcing my doubts aside, and went out to buy one for her. It was only when I reached the hospital entrance that I suddenly remembered I hadn't given her my gift yet. I hurried back upstairs, only to see my husband—who had been away for two years, supposedly carrying out a classified project and never once returning home—walking into my best friend's hospital room with a bouquet in his hands. He sat down beside her bed and took her hand, his face full of concern. "You were so amazing, my love." My mind went completely blank, and all the blood rushed to my head. My hand was still on the doorknob when I saw my mother carrying the baby over to them, beaming with delight. "Look—the baby smiled as soon as he heard his daddy's voice." So her baby's last name was taken from Vincent Kessler—my husband's last name. The classified project… The whole story about having a child without the father in the picture… It had all been a lie. Even my own mother had helped her goddaughter and son-in-law deceive me. The people I loved most in the world didn't want me involved with this family at all.

Before I turned fifteen, I lived like a weed. Cold, damp, barely surviving. Then I met Ethan Hayes and Summer Reed. The first home-cooked meal anyone ever made for me was made by Summer. The first dress I ever owned was bought by Summer. The first birthday anyone ever celebrated for me was something Summer planned down to the smallest detail. She would carefully put ointment on the chilblains covering my hands. And she would tell everyone, over and over, that I was her best friend. As for Ethan... He was the one who pulled me away from a group of laughing street punks. He was the one who kicked open a door and rushed me to the hospital when my fever reached 104 degrees. He was the one who broke my drunken stepfather's head open with a single punch, the night the man came at me again. The day he confessed his feelings, his hands were trembling and my heart was pounding so hard that tears filled my eyes. "I swear I'll protect you for the rest of my life." I often thought that in the bleak, gray life I had been given, meeting the two of them was the greatest luck I could ever have asked for. Until my twenty-third birthday. I heard Ethan shouting at Summer. "I can't control what I feel! I fell in love with you. So what? You feel the same way, don't you?" Summer looked into his red, tormented eyes. At last, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. "But... what about Mia?" Hidden around the corner, I smiled bitterly. What else was there to do? They were the two people I loved most in the world. I couldn't bear to make things harder for them. So I called my advisor and said calmly, "Can I apply for that twenty-year Antarctic research program?"

On the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Vicente Buckley, he violated my trust by sleeping with my best friend Kinsley Gilmore, on our bed. Through the camera, my son Jamie Buckley's childish voice sounded. "Kinsley, I'll keep watch at the door. I won't let my mom come in!" As if rewarding him, Kinsley pecked Vicente and suggested, "Your son is great. Don't you think about having another child with Patricia?" Vicente responded by covering her face with a pillow, saying, "The scar on her belly disgusts me."

I've been married to Joel Hoover for three years. But whenever we go out with my best friend, Cynthia Marsh, people assume they're the couple. At the mall, sales associates hand them the gifts meant for couples. At restaurants, servers ask if they want to take part in the couples' promotion. When we travel, strangers compliment them on what a great couple they make, then hand me a phone to take their picture. At first, it makes me uncomfortable, but Joel never corrects anyone. Cynthia always laughs it off. "Maybe we just happen to look like a couple. Don't read into it." She says it so casually that every time, I tell myself not to make a big deal out of it. Then Joel tells me he's finally taking me to meet his family at a holiday dinner. I spend three whole months getting ready. But the moment we walk in, his mother grabs Cynthia's hand, beaming. "Just look at these two. Don't they make a perfect couple?" The relatives immediately start teasing them too. "You two must kiss a lot. You're even starting to look alike!" The whole room erupts in laughter. I stand there, watching Joel. He doesn't correct anyone. He just reaches over and tucks a loose strand of Cynthia's hair behind her ear. That's when it finally hits me. Joel isn't staying quiet because he can't be bothered to explain. He just doesn't want me to be his wife.

When my best friend’s husband beat her, my boyfriend and I drove over a thousand miles through the night to get her out. We worked perfectly together. I threw the punches. He blocked the door. My best friend froze for a second, then jumped right into the fight with us. On the drive home, the three of us took one look at the bruises and scratches covering our faces and burst out laughing. But as she laughed, tears began streaming down her cheeks. “You two better not break up. If you do, who am I supposed to choose?” Ryan rolled his eyes from behind the wheel. “We’re doing just fine, thanks. We’re not breaking up. You should worry about yourself.” From that day on, Maya lived with me. I looked after her, helped her get back on her feet, and encouraged her to start a new life. Whenever Ryan saw me fussing over her, he’d jab a finger against my forehead. “Sophie, do you even remember that I’m your boyfriend?” Then I returned from a three-month business trip and found a pink beaded charm hanging in Ryan’s car. No matter how many times I asked, he refused to tell me who had made it for him. My expression hardened. “We’re done.” Then I turned to my best friend. “Come on. You’re leaving with me.” But her face went pale. Instead of coming to me, she walked toward Ryan.

When I am diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I am forced to leave the dance company and give up the career I have spent my entire life working toward. My best friend, Vivian Carter, steps into my place, promising to fulfill my dream in my stead. My boyfriend, Ethan Bennett, proposes to me on the spot. He swears that no matter what happens to me—or what becomes of me—he will never leave my side. Over the next five years, I devote myself to helping Vivian rise through the ranks until she becomes the company's principal dancer. With my support, Ethan's career flourishes as well. And through it all, they never stop telling me they are searching for a way to cure me. This year, while both of them are busy preparing for an upcoming competition, I go to my follow-up appointment alone. But when I receive the results, I am stunned. There is nothing wrong with my heart. Overwhelmed with joy, I clutch the medical report to my chest and rush home, eager to share the news with them. Then, before I can step inside, I hear voices coming from within. Vivian speaks first. "Evelyn's follow-up appointment is coming up. Are you sure nothing will go wrong?" Ethan's voice is calm and unconcerned. "I already took care of it. Her test results will still show that she has heart disease." He pauses before adding, "Besides, she hasn't danced in five years. Even if she somehow finds out, what can she possibly do?" Vivian lets out a quiet laugh. "You're right." I freeze outside the door. The blood drains from my face as their words sink in. So this is the truth. My best friend and the man who promised to love me forever have been lying to me all along. Every promise. Every act of devotion. Every sacrifice I thought they had made for me. It has all been a lie.

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.

After a wild, drunken class reunion, I woke up next to a male model. I had no clue what I was doing since it was my first time in this kind of situation. I called my best friend for help on what to do, and while the male model was still out cold, I left my wallet and bolted. When I got home, my best friend dragged me over to show me a picture of her new boyfriend. My jaw dropped. The guy in the photo was the spitting image of the man I had just left.

On my wedding day, the crowd kept teasing us newlyweds. A friend asked me, "What's the most insane thing you've done for him?" I smiled. "Letting him tattoo his own special mark on me despite my bleeding disorder." Then, they asked the groom who was outside the room. "And what's the most insane thing you've done?" He paused for a moment. "That tattoo is the name of the miscarried child I had with her best friend." Everyone went white and exchanged looks, then someone tried to defuse the situation. "Still a joker, Zack." Zack Gray said solemnly, "It's not a joke, but that's not the most insane thing. I did it with her best friend the whole night before the wedding, and we did it right on the bed she's sitting on." I frowned, my heart pounding wildly. No wonder my best friend would tear up every time she looked at my tattoo. I sneered. If that was how he wanted to play, then I would do something crazy too.

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."

Before the wedding, the coordinator, Rachel Bennett, called me. "Ms. Lane, we tailored the suit to the groom's measurements. Are you sure you want us to change the size?" "Yes," I said. "The groom's changed." My wedding to Caleb was two days away. I'd chosen the venue, designed the invitations, and picked out both my dress and his suit on my own. Every time I tried to involve Caleb in the planning, he only got annoyed. "You know I'm not into all the ceremony. "Don't bother me with this little stuff." Then yesterday, I found an old proposal video on his computer. It was five hours long. Four of those hours showed Caleb painstakingly setting everything up himself. For the final hour, he excitedly walked a woman through every detail he'd prepared before dropping to one knee. "Nina Sawyer, will you marry me?" Nina. Nina Sawyer. Caleb had always told me she was a childhood friend he'd grown up with. Now she was also my best friend, and she was supposed to be my maid of honor. I gave Rachel the new measurements and watched as she carried the suit away. For some reason, tears suddenly started spilling down my face before I could stop them. She startled and quickly handed me a tissue. "Ms. Lane, are you okay?" I wiped my eyes. "I'm fine. Please have the suit altered as soon as possible. I don't want anything delaying the wedding."

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.

After I moved into a new place with my boyfriend, Simon Zane, getting anywhere felt like a detour. My commute took an hour and twenty minutes, and I was late to work every other day. Our favorite restaurant was two hours away; by the time we arrived, we couldn’t even get in line, so we went home hungry. Visiting my parents meant taking several back roads, and I was too scared to make the trip alone. Whenever I complained, Simon reassured me. "A new place takes some getting used to. Give it time." Then my best friend Wendy Brooks's rental developed a leak, and Simon brought her home without asking me. After a day there, Wendy couldn’t help marveling at the location. "My office is a five-minute walk from here, and several of my favorite places to eat are nearby. Even my hometown’s really close. Everything I need is within a mile and a quarter!" The more she said, the less it sounded like a coincidence. Back in our bedroom, I happened upon the requirements for choosing our new home. The page was crowded with notes: [Wendy Brooks’s office], [Wendy Brooks’s favorite shops]... The home I’d been trying to get used to had never been meant for me. I said nothing and started packing immediately.

Damian Pierce said we should be a minimalist couple. There was no need for gifts, holidays, and grand gestures. “True love doesn’t need material proof.” My best friend, Sienna Moore, even backed him up. “Exactly. Your husband really gets it. Unlike my ex, who did nothing but shower me with designer bags.” I nodded. We lived that minimalist life for four years. In all that time, I never received a single bouquet of flowers, and not once did he surprise me. On my birthday, he posted a photo of us on his social media with the caption: [Minimalist living. The best gift is simply being together.] The post got over 200 likes. I left a little heart in the comments. Then I came across Sienna’s private account. She had limited-edition handbags, custom-made jewelry, and a room filled with roses. [Someone once said true love doesn’t need material proof, but he insists on proving it to me.] The location was at the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. The date was my birthday. I scrolled through her posts from the past four years. Every single one had been posted on a day that was supposed to belong to Damian and me. Every gift she received had Damian’s taste written all over it. I exited her feed and removed the heart from his post. Just as casually, I ended our relationship.

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.

I accidentally stumbled upon numerous explicit videos on my husband's computer while tidying up his desk. The videos showed him in bed with my unmarried best friend. The relationship between my husband and me had been platonic ever since I gave birth 40 years ago. His reason was that he was no longer capable of physical intimacy. Now, it felt like my entire life had been a sham, despite all my efforts for my family.

Once the graduation ceremony is over, I take a five-hour train ride to meet my boyfriend, Blake Jones. While I wait for him at the station, I come across a popular post on Reddit. "Am I Overreacting? My Childhood Friend Ditches Me for His Girlfriend, and I'm Pissed. "His girlfriend is my best friend, and the three of us have always been close since we were kids. He's always been really sweet to both of us. "Two days ago, I had a fever, and he rushed me to the hospital in the middle of the night. He even took a day off to keep me company. When my supervisor rejected my thesis, he stayed up all night to help me revise it… "I never used to mind his relationship. But now, whenever I hear him talking to my best friend on the phone, I can't help feeling awful." That catches me off guard. I remember one night when I called Blake, but his phone was switched off. He didn't get back to me until the next afternoon. He said something had come up, but he never mentioned who he'd been with. The comments on the post are all urging the poster to call her childhood friend back and see who he'll choose between her and his girlfriend. I'm just about to type a reply when a notification from Blake comes through. "Babe, something came up. I can't pick you up today. Can you take a cab and come over?" My breath catches. I click on the poster's profile and realize that her location tag is the same city I'm in.

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.