My Best Friend Of 15 Years Asked To “Share” My Husband Because She Saw Him First. Then I Found Out She’s Been Stalking Him For 5 Years. What Should I Do Now?
The Hidden Obsession
Leo nodded slowly, then he stopped. His face changed. “Veronica, I need to show you something.”
He pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “I should have told you sooner. I didn’t want to worry you, and I thought if I just ignored her, she’d stop.”
He handed me his phone. It was a text thread, hundreds of messages, all from Elena. All unanswered. The earliest ones were from 8 months ago. Hey, just thinking about you. I had a dream about you last night. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?
They got more intense as I scrolled. I know you feel it too. You can’t hide from me forever. Why won’t you answer me? I see you reading these. I love you so much it hurts. Please just talk to me.
The most recent ones were from 3 days before the dinner. I’m going to tell her soon. We can finally be together. Just wait for me.
I looked up at Leo. My hands were shaking. “How long has this been going on?”
“8 months,” he said, his voice was heavy with guilt. “I blocked her twice. She made new numbers. I thought about telling you, but I didn’t know how. She’s your best friend. I kept hoping she’d just stop.”
“She’s been texting you for 8 months and you never said anything?”
“I never responded. Not once. I swear to you, Veronica, I never encouraged this.”
I believed him. I could see in his face how much this had been weighing on him. But it also meant this was so much bigger than I thought. This wasn’t a sudden confession at dinner; this had been building for almost a year, maybe longer.
“We need to document everything,” I said. “Screenshot all of these. We might need them.”
Leo nodded and started taking screenshots. While he did that, I walked through the house. Something was nagging at me. I went into our bedroom and looked around. Everything seemed normal. Then I opened my closet.
My clothes were organized by color. I don’t organize by color; I organize by type. Shirts together, pants together, dresses together. Someone had been in here and reorganized my entire closet. I called Leo in.
“Did you do this?”
He looked at the closet and shook his head. “I haven’t touched your stuff.”
I felt sick. I walked through the rest of the house, really looking this time. The books on the shelf were in a different order. The photos on the fridge had been rearranged. In the bathroom, my shampoo and Leo’s were switched. Little things. Things you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking. Things that said someone had been here, touching our stuff, moving through our space like they belonged there.
“She’s been in our house before,” I said. “Not just today. She’s been coming in while we’re at work.”
Leo’s face went white. “How long?”
“I don’t know, but she has a key. She could have been doing this for months.”
We checked everything. The drawers in the bedroom, the cabinets in the kitchen, the desk in Leo’s office. That’s where we found it. A photo of me and Leo from our wedding day tucked into one of Leo’s folders.
Elena had drawn herself into the picture. A crude sketch of her face next to ours, with a heart around all three of us. On the back, she’d written: Soon.
Leo sat down heavily on his desk chair. “This is insane,” he said. “She drew herself into our wedding photo.”
“She thinks she belongs there,” I said. “She’s been thinking that for a long time.”
I took a picture of the drawing with my phone. Evidence. We were going to need all of it.
The Intruder in the Kitchen
Three days later, I came home early from work. I’d had a headache all day and my boss told me to just go home and rest. I pulled into the driveway and noticed the front door wasn’t fully closed. I knew I’d locked it that morning. I always lock it.
I sat in my car for a moment, heart pounding. Maybe Leo came home early too. Maybe he just forgot to close it all the way. I texted him: Are you home?
The response came back immediately: No, still at work. Why?
My hands were shaking as I typed back: Front door is open.
Don’t go in. Call the police.
But I didn’t call the police. I don’t know why. Maybe because part of me already knew who was inside. I got out of my car and walked up to the front door. I pushed it open slowly. The smell hit me first. Garlic, rosemary, something roasting.
I walked through the living room and into the kitchen, and there she was. Elena, standing at my stove in an apron I’d never seen before, stirring something in a pot. She looked up when I walked in and smiled like this was completely normal.
“Veronica, you’re home early. Good, dinner’s almost ready.”
I stood there frozen. I couldn’t process what I was seeing. My best friend had broken into my house and was cooking dinner. “How did you get in?” I asked. My voice came out steadier than I expected.
Elena reached into her pocket and held up a key. “I made a copy. Remember when you gave me your spare last year when you went on vacation? I made one before I gave it back. I knew you’d want me to have one eventually.”
She said it so casually, like this was a reasonable thing to do. I felt sick. I needed to stay calm. I needed to get evidence. I walked over to the counter where my purse was sitting and casually pulled out my phone. I propped it up against the fruit bowl, tilting it so it looked like I was just setting it down, and hit record.
Elena didn’t even notice. She was too busy tasting whatever she was making. “Elena, why are you here?” I asked. I needed her talking. I needed her to explain herself on camera.
She set down the spoon and turned to face me fully. “Because I wanted to show you what it could be like. I remembered Leo mentioned at that barbecue 2 years ago that he missed home-cooked meals. You’ve been so busy with work lately, I figured I could help.”
She remembered something my husband said at a barbecue 2 years ago. She remembered and she’d been holding on to it this whole time. “I’ve seen you rearranging things in our house,” I said. “How many times have you been in here, Elena?”
She didn’t even look embarrassed. “A few times. I just wanted to help. You never fold Leo’s shirts right and your spice cabinet was a mess. I organized it for you.”
“That’s not helping,” I said. “That’s breaking and entering.”
“It’s not breaking and entering when you have a key,” she laughed like I was being silly. “I just want to take care of you both. That’s what family does.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I said.
“I know you didn’t,” Elena replied. She walked toward me and I forced myself not to step back. “But that’s what love is, Veronica. Anticipating what people need before they even know they need it. I’ve loved Leo since the day I met him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, and I would do anything for him. Anything. I just need the chance to prove it.”
She was close enough now that I could see the shine in her eyes. She believed every word she was saying. “I’m not trying to take him from you,” she continued. “I just want to love him the way he deserves to be loved. The way you’re too busy to love him.”
That one landed like a punch. “I love my husband just fine,” I said through my teeth.
“Then why isn’t he happy?” Elena asked. She tilted her head like she was genuinely curious. “I see the way he looks sometimes. Tired. Worn down. He needs someone to take care of him. Let me take care of him, Veronica. Let me take care of both of you.”
