– “He Married You, But He Loves Me,” Whispered My Friend Without Meeting My Eyes

“He married you, but he loves me,” said the friend, avoiding eye contact.

“Marjorie, would you like some coffee?” asked Evelyn, switching on the kettle and fetching two cups from the cupboard.

“Yes, please. Make it strongmy head is splitting,” Marjorie rubbed her temples and slumped into a kitchen chair.

Evelyn measured the coffee in silence, then turned to her friend. They had known each other for over a decade, since their university days, and Evelyn could always read Marjories thoughts with a glance. Now, she looked exhausteddark circles under her eyes, her hair hastily tied back.

“Late night again?” Evelyn asked carefully.

Marjorie nodded, tracing the pattern on the oilcloth table cover.

“Work reports until half past midnight. The numbers wouldnt add up. I came home, and Oliver was already asleep. This morning, he left before I woke. Its been like this all week.”

Evelyn set a steaming cup before her and sat down. Something flickered in her gaze, but Marjorie didnt notice.

“How are things between you two? Since the wedding?” Evelyn stirred sugar into her coffee.

“Fine, I suppose,” Marjorie shrugged. “Adjusting. You know the first year is the hardest. Mum says its all part of settling in.”

“Settling in,” Evelyn repeated, a bitter edge in her voice.

Marjorie finally looked up, studying her friend.

“Evelyn, whats wrong? You seem off today.”

“Im fine,” Evelyn waved a hand. “Just tired. Works mad, and weve started redecorating. Its all a bit much.”

But Marjorie knew better. They had been through too much together for secrets. Evelyn had the same look as when she confessed her crush on their philosophy professor all those years agothat same glint in her eye, the same tension in her voice.

“Evelyn, tell me. Were friends,” Marjorie pressed.

Evelyn stood, walked to the window, and stared into the street before turning abruptly.

“Marjorie, I have to tell you something. I dont know how youll take it.”

“What is it?” Marjories pulse quickened.

“Its about Oliver.”

“Oliver?” Marjorie set her cup down slowly. “What about him?”

Evelyn stepped closer but kept her eyes lowered.

“Weve been seeing each other. For six months.”

Marjorie froze. The words didnt register at first.

“What do you meanseeing each other?”

“Just that. After work. Weekends when you visit your parents. Marjorie, Im sorryI didnt mean… It just happened.”

“Just happened?” Marjories voice softened but sharpened. “An affair just happens?”

“Dont call it that. We just understand each other. We have so much in common. We talk, walk, go to the theatre…”

“The theatre,” Marjorie echoed. “And do you sleep together for understanding too?”

Evelyn flushed but said nothing. That was answer enough.

Marjorie stood, legs trembling, pride refusing to let her sit again.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked, surprised at her own steadiness.

“Six months. It started before your wedding, but we tried to stop. Thought wed forget each other. After the wedding he rang me first.”

“After the wedding, he rang you first,” Marjorie repeated slowly. “So, on our honeymoon, he was thinking of you?”

Evelyns head sank lower.

“Marjorie, I know it hurts. But he married youand loves me. I love him too. We never meant to hurt you, but”

“He married you, but he loves me,” Marjorie echoed, the words a verdict.

The kitchen fell silent, save for the ticking clock and hum of the fridge. Marjorie stood motionless; Evelyn still wouldnt meet her gaze.

“Why tell me now?” Marjorie finally asked. “You couldve kept quiet.”

“I couldnt. Oliver wanted to tell you, but I thought it should come from me. Were friends…”

“Friends,” Marjorie gave a hollow laugh. “Ten years of friendship, and this is where it ends.”

“Marjorie, love isnt a choice. It just happens. We didnt plan”

“Didnt plan?” Marjories voice cracked. “You stood at my wedding, wished me happiness, asked how we were, told me to be patientall unplanned?”

“I wanted it to work for you, truly. But I cant help how I feel. I love him.”

“And he loves you?”

Evelyn lifted her head, and Marjorie saw the truth in her eyes.

“Yes,” Evelyn whispered. “He says he realised too late. When it couldnt be undone.”

“Why couldnt it? A wedding isnt a death sentence. He couldve walked away.”

“He didnt want to upset you. Thought hed grow to love you. Everyone said you were perfect together.”

“Perfect,” Marjorie sank back into the chair, her legs giving way. “So he married me out of pity?”

“Not pity. Respect. He cares for you”

“But doesnt love me.”

“No. Im sorry.”

Marjorie covered her face. Her thoughts blurred. Six months of marriage, and all the while, hed been with her best friend. The late nights, the excusesnow it all made sense.

“Where did you meet?” she asked, still hiding her face.

“My flat. Sometimes a café across town.”

“Your flat. This kitchen, where we sit now?”

Evelyns silence spoke volumes.

Marjorie stood, grabbing her bag.

“Where are you going?” Evelyn fretted.

“Home. To talk to my husband.”

“Marjorie, wait. Lets talk this through. There must be a way”

“What way?” Marjorie turned in the doorway. “Shall we all live together? Or should I nobly hand him over and play the gracious friend?”

“I dont know. I just dont want to lose you. You mean so much to me.”

“Meant. Before you slept with my husband.”

“Marjorie!”

But Marjorie was already leaving, deaf to Evelyns pleas.

On the bus home, she stared blankly out the window, the world passing unseen. One phrase looped in her mind: “He married you, but he loves me.”

The flat was silent. Oliver wouldnt be home for hours. Marjorie sat on their bed, tracing the last six months for signs. His distance, rare conversations, the lack of true intimacyshed blamed fatigue, adjusting to married life.

Now she remembered Evelyns questions about their plans, Olivers frequent late calls, how Evelyn had stopped inviting her over.

She stood before the mirroran ordinary face, kind, dependable. The wife many men claimed to want. But not all, it seemed.

The key in the lock startled her. Oliver was early.

“Marjorie? You home?” he called.

“Yes.” Her voice was steady.

He kissed her cheek as usuala man of thirty, unremarkable but once her world. Not anymore.

“How was work?” he asked, loosening his tie.

“Fine. Yours?”

“Same old. Exhausted.”

He showered; she heard the water. A normal evening, if not for the truth.

Over dinner, he talked about work, complained about his boss, made weekend plans. Marjorie listened, realising it was all an act. Who was it for?

“Oliver,” she said when he paused.

“Hm?”

“Evelyn told me something today.”

He froze, spoon midway.

“What?” His voice tightened.

“That youve been seeing each other.”

He closed his eyes, exhaled heavily.

“She told you herself?”

“Half an hour ago. In her kitchenwhere youve probably dined.”

“Marjorie…”

“No explanations. Just tell meis it true?”

“Yes.” He met her gaze. “I meant to tell you. Ive been trying for days.”

“Days. Youve been seeing her six months.”

“Since before the wedding. We tried to stop, but…”

“But love conquered all,” she finished.

Oliver stood, facing the window.

“I never wanted this. Truly. But I love her.”

“And me?”

A long pause. Then:

“No. I thought Id grow to. Youre kind, and I respect you, but… Love cant be forced.”

“Why marry me?”

“You wanted it. Everyone said it was time. I thoughtwhy not? Youre steady, reliable.”

“Like a savings account,” she said flatly.

“Dont say that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“And yet you did. Six months of lies. Did you think that wouldnt hurt?”

He turned, shame in his eyes.

“It does. I hate the lying. Pretending to be happy.”

“Poor you. So what now?”

“I dont know. Divorce, I suppose.”

“Suppose,” she agreed. “And marry Evelyn?”

“If shell have me.”

“She will. She loves you. Simple.”

Marjorie cleared the table, hands trembling but controlled.

“Marjorie,” he said at the door.

“What?”

“Im sorry. I know its vile. But I couldnt help it.”

“You couldve,” she said without turning. “You couldve not married me. Couldve told the truth. Couldve not lied for six months.”

“I was afraid to hurt you.”

“And hurt me worse.”

He had no answer.

That night, they slept on opposite sides of the bed. Marjorie lay awake, listening to his breathing, realising the man whod been her husband was now a stranger. How quickly life could change. One sentence, and everything crumbled.

In the morning, Oliver left without a word. Marjorie called in sickshe needed time.

Pacing the flat, she searched her feelings. Pain, yes. Betrayal. But alsorelief. The truth, at last.

Evelyn rang at noon.

“Marjorie, can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Everything. I need to explain.”

“You did that yesterday.”

“Not everything. Please.”

Curiosity won.

“Talk.”

“Not over the phone. Meet me.”

“No. Speak now or dont call again.”

Evelyn hesitated, then rushed:

“I never meant to fall for him. We just talked at your birthdayremember, you ran out for cake? He confessed doubts about the wedding, said he wasnt sure. And I… I realised I fancied him. Badly.”

“And then?”

“We met. Just to talk at first. He said he couldnt be honest with youdidnt want to upset you. With me, he could. And I fell in love.”

“So you stole your best friends fiancé.”

“Not stole. I urged him not to marry if he didnt love you. But he said he couldnt let you down.”

“Charming,” Marjorie said drily.

“Marjorie, I know Ive been awful. But what was I to do? Stop loving him?”

“You couldve walked away. Left our lives.”

“I tried. After the wedding, I cut contact for two months. He found me.”

“And you caved.”

“I did. Because I loved him.”

Marjorie listened, knowing once she mightve pitied her. Now, she felt nothing.

“Evelyn,” she said. “Youve won. Olivers yours. Why seek my forgiveness?”

“Because you matter. I dont want to lose you.”

“You lost me the moment you slept with my husband.”

“Marjorie”

“Were done. Dont call again.”

She hung up, switched off her phone.

That evening, when Oliver returned, she met him with a suitcase.

“Your things,” she said calmly. “Ill file for divorce tomorrow.”

He nodded, took the case.

“Where will I stay?”

“Evelyns, I assume. Or rent a flat.”

“Marjorie,” he hesitated. “If you need help with the divorce”

“Ill manage.”

“Alright. Im sorry.”

“Youre forgiven,” she said, closing the door.

Then she sat and weptproperly, for the first time. When the tears dried, she felt free. Truly free, for the first time in months.

The divorce was swift, amicable. Oliver didnt contest her flat; she asked for nothing. They parted almost as friends.

A month later, she heard Oliver and Evelyn were living together. The news didnt stingonly surprised her, how little she felt for people whod once meant everything.

Then, one Sunday in the park, a man with a dog helped gather her dropped groceries. They talked, found common ground. Most importantlyhe looked at her as Oliver never had.

“Fancy a coffee?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” Marjorie agreed, thinking life might just begin anew.

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