My Best Friend Of 15 Years Thinks My Boyfriend Is Her Soulmate. She Crashed His Family Dinner And Refused To Leave. Am I Losing My Best Friend Or My Mind?

The Circle Fractures

The friend group sat there for another hour talking through everything and by the end, they all agreed to cut contact with Jasmine completely. Myra said they’d provide witness statements if Lincoln needed them, documenting how Jasmine tried to manipulate them and spread false information about Alex.

It felt validating to have them finally understand and believe me but it also felt deeply sad. Our entire social circle was fracturing, splitting into people who supported us and people who’d have to cut ties with Jasmine.

The Jasmine I knew for 15 years—the girl who moved from Arizona and didn’t know anyone, who I helped with homework and invited to everything—felt like a complete stranger now.

I didn’t recognize her in the person who showed up at gyms and workplaces and Sunday dinners, who created elaborate false narratives and believed them so completely that she could convince others. When I left the coffee shop I felt lighter and heavier at the same time.

Relieved to have support but grieving the friendship that was never coming back. Wednesday morning Lincoln called to say he’d filed for the emergency restraining order at the courthouse.

He explained that Jasmine would be served with papers within 48 hours, meaning someone would show up at her apartment or workplace and hand her official legal documents. He said we should expect her to either love bomb us with apologies or escalate with anger when she realized this was legally serious.

That the court system was now involved and this wasn’t just friend drama anymore. He told us not to respond to any contact attempt regardless of what she said, that any response would reset the harassment clock and potentially weaken our case.

He said to document everything: save every text and voicemail and email, note every time she drove past our apartments or showed up somewhere we were. His voice was calm but firm when he said the next few days were critical, that this was when people with delusions either accepted reality or doubled down harder.

I thanked him and hung up, then immediately told Alex what Lincoln said. We both felt this strange anticipation like waiting for a storm we knew was coming but couldn’t predict exactly when it would hit.

That night my phone started buzzing around 8:00 p.m. and didn’t stop. Jasmine’s name kept flashing on the screen over and over, each call going to voicemail when I didn’t pick up.

Lincoln had been clear about not answering, about not giving her any opening to claim we were still in contact or that I was encouraging her behavior. I watched the notifications pile up, 17 missed calls in 2 hours, and each one felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.

Alex sat next to me on the couch looking at his own phone, his jaw tight as he scrolled through work emails trying to distract himself from the constant buzzing coming from my device. The voicemails accumulated in my inbox, little red numbers climbing higher and higher.

Part of me desperately wanted to listen because somewhere in my brain I still believed my actual friend might be in there somewhere, might say something that would make this all make sense. But I knew better now, knew that the Jasmine leaving those messages wasn’t the girl I’d known since middle school.

Listening would only hurt me more without changing anything about the situation we were trapped in. The next morning Alex’s phone lit up with a text from Quentyn at work.

I watched his face go pale as he read it, then he turned the screen toward me without saying anything. Jasmine had shown up at their office building again, apparently thinking she could just walk in and see Alex like nothing had happened.

Like Lincoln hadn’t filed legal paperwork and warned her to stay away. Security recognized her immediately from the previous incidents and called the police before she even made it through the lobby doors.

Quentyn’s text said she’d been arrested for trespassing since the building management had formally banned her from the property after the second time she’d harassed Alex during his lunch break. She was in police custody now, actually arrested with handcuffs and everything.

The reality of how far this had escalated hit me like a truck. This wasn’t just friend drama anymore or even stalking that we could document and report; this was criminal charges and jail time and a permanent record that would follow Jasmine for the rest of her life.

A Strengthened Case

Lincoln called an hour later and his voice was calm but I could hear the satisfaction underneath when he explained what happened. Jasmine had spent 4 hours in a holding cell before her parents posted bail and got her released.

He said this actually strengthened our restraining order case significantly because it showed the pattern continuing even after police involvement and official warnings. The judge would take it seriously when we went to court, would see that Jasmine wasn’t just confused or going through a rough patch but actively refusing to respect boundaries even when those boundaries were enforced by law enforcement.

He told us to keep documenting everything, to save any texts or calls or attempts at contact because each piece of evidence made our case stronger and showed we genuinely needed legal protection from someone who wouldn’t stop on her own.

Friday morning my phone rang with an unknown number and I almost didn’t answer, thinking it might be Jasmine calling from a different phone to get around being blocked. But something made me pick up and Jasmine’s mom’s voice came through the speaker, choked with tears and barely coherent.

She said they’d had no idea things had gotten this bad. That Jasmine had been telling them Alex was her boyfriend and I was a jealous ex-friend trying to break them up out of spite.

They’d believed her because why wouldn’t they believe their own daughter? And now they were devastated to learn the truth from the police report and the trespassing charges and everything we’d documented.

Her mom kept apologizing over and over, saying she should have known something was wrong when Jasmine’s stories didn’t quite add up, when she refused to let them meet Alex or got defensive when they asked normal questions about the relationship.

I felt bad for her because I knew what it was like to watch someone you love disappear into delusion, to realize the person you thought you knew had been replaced by someone you didn’t recognize at all. Jasmine’s dad got on the phone after her mom couldn’t talk anymore through the crying.

His voice was tight and controlled like he was barely holding himself together. He asked if there was any way to resolve this without legal action because they were trying to get Jasmine into psychiatric treatment.

I understood what he was asking, understood that he wanted to protect his daughter from having a restraining order and criminal record. But I also remembered Alex’s face when Jasmine showed up at his parents’ house during Sunday dinner.

I explained as gently as I could that we’d tried everything else, that we’d been patient and understanding and given Jasmine so many chances to stop. But she’d showed up at Alex’s family home and that crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.

He went quiet for a long moment and then said he understood. That they’d cooperate with whatever we needed and provide any information that might help get Jasmine the mental health treatment she clearly required.

Before he hung up he said he was sorry, not just for what Jasmine had done but for not seeing it sooner. I felt tears running down my face because this whole situation was destroying so many people beyond just me and Alex.