I SAW MY BEST FRIEND’S JOURNAL OPEN TO A PAGE WITH MY NAME
Her handwriting stared back at me as I held the journal in my shaking hands, the words “I can’t keep pretending” etched into the paper. I didn’t mean to look — it was lying open on her desk, the lamp casting a warm glow that made the ink look like it was bleeding. My chest tightened as I read the next sentence: “She’ll never forgive me if she finds out.”
I heard her footsteps in the hallway, and panic shot through me. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice sharp as she stopped in the doorway. The smell of lavender candles hit me, the ones she always lights when she’s stressed. I couldn’t stop myself. “Why are you writing about me? What are you hiding?”
Her face went pale, and she grabbed the journal from me. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she whispered, her fingers trembling. I stepped back, the carpet muffling my steps, and she looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, but I had to tell him. He deserves to know.”
Then my phone buzzed — it was my boyfriend.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*My blood ran cold. “Tell him what?” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. The implications hit me like a physical blow. “Who? Who did you tell?”
She choked back a sob, finally managing to speak, “Mark. I told Mark.”
Mark. My boyfriend. My gut twisted, the room suddenly seeming to shrink. The lavender scent became cloying, suffocating. “About what?” I pressed, desperately clinging to the hope that I’d misunderstood, that it wasn’t what I thought.
Her eyes, usually bright and full of mischief, were red and swollen. “About us. About… how I feel.” She looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “He’s always wanted to know.”
The phone buzzed again, a new message from Mark, its light reflecting in my tear-filled eyes. I reached for it, my fingers clumsy. As I unlocked the screen, a series of texts flashed: “Are you serious?” “I don’t know what to say” “I need some time to think.”
My legs gave out and I sank to the floor, the cold seeping through my jeans. The journal lay discarded on the desk, the warm light of the lamp now feeling like a spotlight, exposing everything. The betrayal, the years of friendship, the secrets, all laid bare.
“I… I need to go,” I whispered, feeling like my world was collapsing. Turning, I stumbled towards the door, the scent of lavender now a painful reminder.
She didn’t try to stop me.
Walking out into the cool night air, I needed to breathe. The weight of the world felt crushing. As I reached my car, my phone buzzed one final time. I hesitantly glanced down, it was Mark. The message read: “Meet me at the park tomorrow morning?”
The next morning, I went to the park. I found Mark, sitting on a bench, looking utterly miserable. He stood up as I approached, his expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. He spoke first. “I… I didn’t know. I had no idea.”
I remained silent. Letting him continue.
“I don’t know what to say, other than I don’t know where things go from here. I’ve been with you a year, I thought we were happy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This changes everything. It’s a lot to take in.”
I finally spoke. “You should probably know I never would have been able to forgive you if I had been unfaithful. You should probably go with the one who told you all this.”
He nodded, slowly. “I should. I’m sorry. About… everything.”
He started to walk away. As he turned the corner, I looked up and saw her standing under a blossoming tree. Tears ran down her face. I walked towards her.
“I thought I loved him,” she said, her voice cracking.
“I know, but you don’t. I am the only one who is supposed to love you,” I said.
Her face crumpled, and she fell into my arms. We held each other for a long time. The pain was there, but so was the comfort. It was a new beginning, for a friendship that was, for now, the only love that mattered. The lavender candles, the secrets, the journal—they were all remnants of a past we needed to leave behind. We had a future to write together, and this time, there would be no lies.