MY BEST FRIEND’S LIPSTICK WAS ON MY BOYFRIEND’S COLLAR — AGAIN.
I stared at the bright red smudge, my hands trembling as I held the shirt up to the fading afternoon light. The smell of her cheap, fruity lipstick filled my nose, and I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Is this why you’ve been so ‘busy’ lately?” I asked, my voice cracking.
He didn’t even look at me. He just sat on the edge of our bed, his shoulders tense, staring at the floor. “It’s not what you think,” he muttered, but his shaky tone betrayed him. The scratch of his nails against the bedframe made my skin crawl. “Really? Because it looks exactly like what I think,” I snapped, throwing the shirt at him.
He finally looked up, and his eyes were filled with something I’d never seen before — not guilt, not regret, but defiance. “You’ve been so distant lately. What did you expect?” he said coldly. I froze, the words hitting me like a slap.
That’s when I heard the front door creak open.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*My best friend’s lipstick was on my boyfriend’s collar — AGAIN.
The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, followed by the familiar, upbeat chirp of laughter. Sarah. It had to be. My blood ran cold.
“Don’t,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill. “Just… don’t.”
He ignored me. He stood, his jaw clenched, as Sarah sauntered into the room, a playful smirk plastered across her face. She spotted the shirt on the floor and her eyes widened, then quickly narrowed.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice laced with a false innocence that made my stomach churn.
“Ask him,” I choked out, gesturing at my boyfriend. He just stared at Sarah, his expression unreadable, and my heart broke a little more with each passing second.
Sarah took a step closer to him, her hand reaching out. Before I could stop her, she gently brushed a stray piece of hair from his forehead, her touch lingering far too long. “Don’t listen to her, babe. She’s being crazy.”
“Crazy?!” I yelled, finally letting the tears flow. “I’m being crazy because your lipstick is on his shirt? Because I caught you *again*?”
He flinched, but Sarah just rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. It’s a misunderstanding.”
My breath hitched. “Misunderstanding? You’re literally the only person who wears that godawful shade of red!”
A wave of fury washed over me, eclipsing the pain. I didn’t care anymore. I walked towards the door, grabbing my keys and phone.
“Where are you going?” my boyfriend asked, his voice tight.
I stopped at the doorway, turned, and looked at the two of them, their faces mirroring each other’s cold, calculating expressions. “Away from both of you. And as for us,” I swallowed, the words catching in my throat, “we’re done.”
I slammed the door behind me, the sound a final, definitive punctuation mark on a love story that was never meant to be. I walked out into the cool evening air, the sting of tears on my cheeks a stark contrast to the betrayal that burned within me. The future was uncertain, but at least I was finally free. I would find a love built on honesty and trust, and I would leave the cheap lipstick and the lies behind, forever.