I’m sure many of you have that kind of bestie—the one you’d go through fire and water with. The one who feels like you’ve known her your entire life. Brooke was that friend for me.

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We had gone to the same college but only met after graduation at a mutual friend's party.

Our connection was instant, almost eerie. It was as if we were one soul split into two bodies. She just got me, and I got her.

No matter how bad things got in my life, I knew I was lucky because I had Brooke.

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She was always there—through breakups, job losses, and every meltdown in between.

But, as we all know, all good things come to an end. They say a true friend is revealed in difficult times, but I disagree.

I believe it’s the opposite—a true friend shows their colors in happiness. Only when someone truly loves you, can they genuinely be happy for you.

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Sadly, my friendship with Brooke didn’t pass the test of happiness, but more on that later.

My happiness came in the form of Jason. He was the best guy I’d ever been with.

I felt genuinely happy, safe, and at peace with him. But everything started to go wrong when I introduced him to Brooke.

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The three of us went to a bar. At first glance, everything seemed pretty casual.

Jason asked Brooke questions, she answered, asked him things back, and he joked around.

But I sensed tension from Brooke. Her smile felt a little too forced, her laughter a bit too sharp. It was subtle, but I knew Brooke too well not to notice.

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When Jason stepped away to the restroom, I leaned closer to Brooke. My voice was soft, but my question felt heavy. “What do you think of Jason?”

Brooke didn’t answer right away. She swirled the ice in her glass, watching it spin. “I don’t think he’s right for you,” she said.

Her words stung. I had expected a smile, a reassuring nod—anything but this. “How do you know who’s right for me?”

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She shrugged. “It’s just my opinion.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I’m really happy with him. I thought you’d be happy for me too.”

Brooke sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I think you can do better.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want better. I want Jason.”

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She leaned back, folding her arms. “Claire, you asked for my opinion. My opinion is that you need to break up with him.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I don’t understand. Are you jealous?”

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Jealous? You think I want your life?”

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“I thought you’d support me,” I said. “You’re my best friend.”

She snorted. It was a harsh sound that didn’t match her. “I am your best friend. That’s why I’m telling you the truth.”

“It feels like you’re trying to ruin this for me.”

Brooke’s face tightened. “You know what? It’s late. I don’t want to overpay the nanny. I need to get home to Melanie.”

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She tossed a few bills on the table and stood up. “Good night, Claire.”

I knew Melanie was with her mom, not a nanny. Brooke had lied. But why? Melanie was Brooke’s daughter. She’d had her during her last year of college and raised her alone.

Brooke was so angry at Melanie’s father for abandoning them that she never even mentioned his name. She was doing an amazing job as a single mom.

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When Jason returned, his smile faded when he saw my face. “What happened?”

I forced a weak smile. “Can we go home?”

He didn’t push for answers. We paid the bill and left.

At home, the silence wrapped around us. As we lay in bed, Jason turned to me. “What did Brooke say about me?”

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I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat. “She said you’re not right for me.”

He didn’t react. “And what do you think?”

“I told her it’s not true,” I said quickly. “I think you’re perfect.”

He pulled me close. “Maybe she’s just jealous.”

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I nodded, but a small, nagging thought lingered. What if he was right?

Every time I saw Brooke after that, it felt like walking into a storm. No matter what I said—whether it was something good or bad about Jason—she always found a way to twist it.

She turned every story into proof that Jason was the villain. It was exhausting.

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One afternoon, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I sat on the couch with Jason, my voice shaking. “I don’t understand why Brooke can’t just be happy for us.”

Jason didn’t look surprised. “Maybe she’s just that kind of person. She’s a single mom. She might be jealous that you have a good relationship while she’s alone.”

I bit my lip. “I never thought of it that way.”

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“Plus, she has a kid to boot,” he added.

His words made me uneasy. The way he said “kid to boot” felt wrong. But I knew he was frustrated too. After all, Brooke had made it clear she didn’t like him.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I’m just so tired of this.”

“Then stop talking to her,” Jason said.

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I hesitated. “Maybe I should.”

“You’ll see,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “You’ll feel so much better.”

He stroked my hair. “Honestly, I never thought Brooke was a good friend to you anyway.”

I didn’t even have to make a conscious effort to stop talking to Brooke. It happened on its own.

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Each unanswered text, each ignored call, slowly built a wall between us. Within a few weeks, our communication dwindled to nothing.

If it weren’t for Jason, I don’t know how I would have coped with losing my best friend.

When I felt the ache of Brooke’s absence, he was there with a warm hug, a kind word, or a distraction. He made me feel safe, and I clung to that feeling.

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And things with Jason only got better. Our bond grew stronger each month.

Then, one ordinary evening, during a romantic dinner at home, he proposed.

His voice was steady, his eyes filled with hope. Of course, I said yes! I was over the moon. It felt like the best thing that had ever happened to me.

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I posted a photo of the ring on social media. Comments and likes poured in—thousands of congratulations from friends, family, and even old classmates.

Everyone except Brooke. She couldn’t even send a simple “Congrats!” It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

“See?” Jason said. “I told you she was never a real friend. You’re better off without her.” I wanted to believe him.

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But that night, when Jason was already asleep, my phone suddenly rang. “Bestie” flashed on the screen. My heart raced. I hesitantly answered.

“Hello?” I whispered into the dark.

Brooke’s voice was flat. “Don’t trust him.” Then she hung up.

I called her back. Once, twice, a dozen times. Only silence and her voicemail greeted me.

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Honestly, I was done with Brooke’s attitude. I couldn’t take it anymore. The next day, I decided to go see her.

I needed answers. I needed to know why she couldn’t just be happy for me.

I stood at her door, my hand tight around my phone. I took a breath and knocked. After a moment, the door opened, and I saw Stephanie, Brooke’s mom.

“Oh, hey, Stephanie. Is Brooke home?” I asked.

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Stephanie gave me a kind smile. “Hi, Claire. No, she’s not here. Did you need something?” She stepped back, holding the door wide. “Come in.”

I followed her inside. The house smelled like coffee and lavender, just like always.

I had always had a good relationship with Brooke’s mom. She was warm and welcoming, and I felt safe around her.

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We sat at the kitchen table, and I didn’t hold back. I told her everything—how Brooke had been acting, what she said about Jason, and how she called me in the middle of the night with that strange warning.

Stephanie listened, her face shifting from confusion to concern. She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Wait, you said his name is Jason?”

“Yes, why?” I asked.

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Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe it brings back bad memories for her.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Stephanie looked away, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. “Melanie’s father’s name is also Jason.”

Her words sank into me like stones. “What? Are there any photos of him?”

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Stephanie hesitated. “As far as I know, Brooke threw them all away. But let me check.” She stood up and disappeared into another room.

A while later, Stephanie returned. She held a single photo in her hand. “Here,” she said, passing it to me. “This is all I could find.”

I took the photo, and everything inside me shattered. It was Jason. My Jason.

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The same man who had left Brooke when she was pregnant. Suddenly, everything made sense.

Brooke’s behavior and why Jason wanted me to cut ties with her—it all fell into place. I decided to wait for Brooke. I needed to hear it from her.

When she finally walked through the door, her face went pale. “Claire? What are you doing here?”

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I stood up, the photo clutched in my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Jason?”

Her eyes widened. “How did you find out?”

“Your mom showed me the photo,” I said.

Brooke’s shoulders sagged. “Where did she find that... I thought I threw everything away years ago.”

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I held my ground. “Don’t dodge the conversation.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Because he threatened me. He said if I told you, he’d take Melanie away. He called me right after that night at the bar. What was I supposed to do?”

My anger melted away. “Oh, Brooke.” I moved closer and wrapped my arms around her. “You should’ve told me everything.”

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“I was scared,” she said. Her voice was small, broken.

I pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Well, now we’re in this together. Jason won’t know what hit him.”

A hint of a smile broke through her tears. “Thank you.”

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