My Boyfriend And Best Friend Thought They Could Mock Me Behind My Back. So, I Decided To Become My Best Friend’s Stepmom. Was This Too Far?

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Three days later my phone rang. Unknown number. I almost didn’t answer but something made me pick up. The voice said his name was Lucas, Ethan’s best friend. I remembered him from a few parties.

Lucas said he needed to talk to me. He said he had no idea about the affair. All those times he covered for Ethan saying he was working late or helping Lucas move furniture were lies.

Lucas said Ethan told him everything after Thanksgiving. He said Ethan was staying at his apartment temporarily and was a complete mess—drinking too much, not showering, obsessing over what happened. Lucas said he felt terrible for unknowingly helping Ethan cheat.

I told Lucas it wasn’t his fault. Lucas said Ethan kept talking about how stupid he was, how he threw away two years for someone who didn’t even really care about him. I didn’t feel sorry for Ethan. I hung up and checked my email.

New message from Khloe. Long paragraphs. I started reading. She wrote about how the affair started. How she and Ethan were both at my birthday party last year. How they ended up talking in the kitchen while I was opening presents.

How Ethan said he felt unappreciated. How Khloe said she felt invisible. How they kept texting after that night.

I deleted the email before finishing. Her excuses didn’t change anything. 8 months of lies. 8 months of them laughing at me. 8 months of her sitting on my couch pretending to be my friend.

My sister came over that weekend to help me pack Ethan’s stuff. His clothes still hung in the closet. His toothbrush sat by the sink. His books filled half the bookshelf. We started pulling everything out.

My sister found a shoe box in the back of his drawer. Inside were hotel receipts. Dozens of them. Different hotels, different dates, all from the past 8 months. My sister kept digging. She found a phone I’d never seen before. A cheap burner phone.

She turned it on. Messages between Ethan and Khloe. Hundreds of them. Planning when to meet. Talking about how to avoid getting caught. Making fun of things I said.

My sister looked at me. She said the proof of how elaborate their lies were should make me feel less guilty about Bruce. She was right. They didn’t just betray me; they built an entire secret life.

A Second Chance

My phone buzzed later that night. Text from Bruce. He said he’d been thinking about us constantly. He said he wanted to try having an honest conversation without Thanksgiving hanging over us. He suggested meeting at a park. Neutral ground. Somewhere we could walk and talk. I agreed. We picked a time for the next day.

I got to the park early, walked around the pond, watched ducks swimming. Bruce showed up exactly on time. We started walking. Neither of us talked at first.

Finally, Bruce said he couldn’t stop thinking about me. He said he missed our conversations, missed hearing about my day, missed making me laugh. I told him being with him made me feel valued, made me feel like someone actually saw me. Ethan never asked about my work, never remembered my favorite foods, never cared if I was happy. Bruce did all those things without me asking.

Bruce stopped walking. He said, “Those feelings sound real.”

I said, “They are real.”

I said, “Maybe they started fake but they became real somewhere along the way.”

Bruce started walking again. He said Khloe called him yesterday. She said I was manipulative, said I seduced her father just for revenge, said I was a terrible person. Bruce said he wanted to hear my side. He wanted to know who I really was.

I took a breath. I told him about the woman I was before I heard Ethan and Khloe in my bedroom. I told him I was the kind of person who made homemade soup for sick friends, who remembered birthdays, who believed people when they said they loved me.

Then I told him about the woman I became after. The one who wanted to hurt the people who hurt her. The one who used his loneliness against him. The one who bent over in yoga pants on purpose. I said both versions were me.

Bruce listened. He said his divorce left him feeling worthless. His wife left him for someone younger, someone more exciting. He said when I showed interest it felt like maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. He said my attention meant everything to him.

I realized we were both hurt people who found each other. Both vulnerable. Both looking for something to make the pain stop.

We kept walking, kept talking. Three hours passed. The sun started setting. Bruce said the situation was complicated, but maybe complicated didn’t mean impossible. I said I wanted to try. Really try. Not revenge or strategy, just two people seeing if something real could grow from messy beginnings.

Bruce said he wanted that too, but he needed to go slow. Needed to rebuild trust. I told him slow was okay. Slow was better than nothing.

We walked back to his truck in silence. Bruce opened my door, helped me in, drove me home without the radio on. At my apartment door, he turned to face me. He said he needed time to think, time to figure out if what we had was real or just revenge wrapped in pretty dates. I nodded. My throat felt tight.

Bruce touched my cheek once, then he left.

I went inside, sat on the couch where Ethan used to play video games. The apartment felt different now. Empty in a new way. Not just because Ethan was gone, but because I might lose Bruce too.