“I didn’t invite you,” whispered her friend when she saw her at the birthday gathering.
Though spoken softly, Margaret heard every word. She stood in the doorway, clutching a bouquet of white roses, wearing the new blue dress she had bought especially for the occasion. Behind Olivia, voices, laughter, and the clinking of glasses filled the airthe party was in full swing.
“I know,” Margaret replied, holding out the flowers. “But does it matter? Weve been friends for twenty years.”
Olivia didnt take the bouquet. Instead, she edged the door closed behind her, as if shielding the room from the unwelcome guest.
“We *were* friends,” she corrected. “Come in, since youre here.”
Margaret crossed the threshold and felt the atmosphere shift. Conversations halted; familiar faces turned toward herthe same people she had spent weekends with, celebrated Christmases with, shared laughter and tears. Now they looked at her with uneasy curiosity.
“Margaret!” Charlotte was the first to break the silence. “What a surprise! We didnt think youd come.”
“Why wouldnt I?” Margaret forced a smile. “Olivia, happy birthday. I wish you health, happiness, and all your dreams coming true.”
“Thanks,” Olivia replied flatly.
Eleanor, perched on the sofa with a wineglass in hand, stood and approached.
“And wheres your Edward?” she asked with a faint smirk. “Too busy to join us?”
Margarets cheeks burned. Of course they all knew. In their circle, nothing stayed hiddenespecially not something like this.
“Edwards at home,” she murmured.
“Whose home?” Eleanor pressed. “Yours or his wifes?”
“Ellie!” Olivia cut in sharply. “Enough.”
“Whats enough?” Eleanor retorted. “We all know the truthwhy pretend otherwise? Margaret, you *do* understand why Olivia didnt invite you, dont you?”
Margaret set the roses on the nearest table. The white blooms looked out of place among the plates and platters.
“I understand,” she said. “But I came anyway. Because I still consider Olivia my friend, no matter what.”
“Friends dont do what youve done,” Charlotte interjected. “Friends dont have affairs with married men.”
“Especially not with their best friends husband,” Eleanor added.
The silence that followed was thick with discomfort. Margaret searched Olivias face for understanding but found only pain and disappointment.
“Maybe I should leave,” Margaret said.
“No,” Olivia said unexpectedly. “Sit down. Since youre here, stay. Just dont expect pleasantries.”
Margaret sank into an armchair in the corner. Gradually, conversation resumed, but she remained an outsiderignored, watched sidelong, whispered about.
“Dyou remember,” Olivia said suddenly to Charlotte, “how Margaret and I met? First year at university. She was sitting alone in the canteen, eating something dreadful from the vending machine, and I had my mums homemade scones. I sat with her, shared them. We talked all evening.”
“I remember,” Charlotte nodded. “You said youd found a true friend.”
“Yes,” Olivia said with a sad smile. “How naïve I was.”
Margaret clenched her fists. Each word cut deep. She wanted to explain, to defend herselfbut who would listen?
“And I remember,” Eleanor said, “how Margaret helped Olivia with her dissertation. They stayed up all night, sketching diagrams. Olivia passed with flying colours the next day.”
“And how she was maid of honour at Olivias wedding,” Charlotte added. “So beautiful in that pink dress. Some said she outshone the bride.”
“Probably already eyeing Edward then,” Eleanor muttered.
“Stop!” Margaret burst out. “Enough reminiscing! I know Ive made mistakes. I know Ive hurt people. But dont paint me as some scheming villain!”
She stood, pacing the room.
“Yes, Im seeing Edward. Yes, hes married to Olivia. But I didnt seduce him, didnt chase him! It just… happened.”
“Nothing *just* happens,” Olivia said quietly. “Especially affairs. Its always a choice.”
“I know. And I made that choice,” Margaret admitted. “Because I love him. More than Ive ever loved anyone.”
“And what about me?” Olivia asked. “Your best friend? Did you think how Id feel, learning my husband was sleeping with my closest friend?”
Margaret slumped back into the chair. Tears pricked her throat, but she swallowed them.
“I did. Every day. It tortures me. But I cant help it.”
“You could,” Eleanor snapped. “You just wont.”
“You dont understand,” Margaret shook her head. “Edwards unhappy in his marriage. He told me so before anything started between us.”
“All married men tell their mistresses theyre unhappy,” Eleanor scoffed. “Standard excuse.”
“But in this case, its true!” Margaret insisted. “Olivia, you *know* things havent been right between you and Edward. You live like flatmates, not husband and wife.”
Olivia paled.
“How would you know how we live?”
“Edward told me.”
“He *discussed* our private life with you?” Olivias voice shook with fury. “Shared intimate details of our marriage with his mistress?”
Margaret realised shed said too much.
“He didnt want to hurt you with a messy divorce,” she faltered. “So we kept it quiet.”
“How noble,” Charlotte said dryly. “A regular Romeo and Juliet.”
“Dont mock me,” Margaret pleaded. “I never meant for this. Edward and I just ran into each other at the libraryhe was researching for his doctorate, I was writing an article. We talked, went for coffee, met again…”
“Wait,” Olivia interrupted. “What doctorate? Edwards already a PhD. He finished five years agoin law, not economics.”
Margaret froze. Had Edward lied from the start? Why? What else had he hidden?
“Maybe I misremembered,” she tried.
“No,” Olivia said. “You didnt. My husbands not just a cheathes a liar.”
“Dont call me that,” Margaret whispered.
“What should I call you? *Friend*?” Olivias laugh was bitter. “After what youve done?”
“Olivia, I know Ive wronged you. But doesnt twenty years of friendship mean anything? Cant you forgive me?”
“Some things cant be forgiven,” Olivia said slowly. “Betrayal kills trust forever.”
Margaret stood. There was no point staying.
“Goodbye, then,” she said. “I wish you happiness, Olivia. Truly.”
“And you,” Olivia replied. “Just not with my husband.”
In the hallway, Margaret slipped on her shoes. Charlotte followed her out.
“Wait,” she said quietly. “Margaret… are you sure Edward loves you?”
“Of course. Why?”
Charlotte hesitated. “Hes cheated before. Other women. Same storyclaims hes unhappy, misunderstood.”
Margarets breath caught.
“Youre lying.”
“Im not. Olivia never spoke of it. Pride, perhaps. Or hope hed change.”
“Then why stay married?”
“Would *you* walk away?” Charlotte asked. “Eighteen years together, a shared home, habits, the fear of being alone at forty?”
Margaret said nothing. Fragments of conversations with Edward rushed backhis promises, his vows of love. Had it all been lies?
“Maybe Im wrong,” Charlotte added. “Maybe this time its real. But ask yourselfis a man who betrays his wife worth losing your best friend over?”
Outside, the evening air was cool, but Margaret barely felt it. Her thoughts churned.
At home, Edward waited. He lounged on the sofa, beer in hand, eyes on the telly.
“How was the party?” he asked when she entered.
“Edward,” she said, sitting across from him. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” He didnt look away from the screen.
“Us. Your marriage.”
Now he turned. “Whats wrong? You look upset.”
“Tell me the trutham I the first woman youve cheated with?”
His hesitation told her everything.
“Why ask?”
“Just answer.”
He sighed, set his drink down.
“No. But youre different, Margaret. What we have is real.”
“And the others?”
“They didnt matter. You do.”
“Enough to leave your wife?”
He stiffened.
“Margaret, its complicated…”
“How? Explain it. And explain why you lied about your doctorate.”
His face drained of colour.
“Who told you?”
“Your *wife*. Remember her? Olivia. My former best friend.”
Edward stood, pacing.
“I didnt mean to lie. When we met, you seemed so… intellectual. I wanted to impress you.”
“By lying?”
“It was harmless! Margaret, dont make this into something bigger”
“If youll lie about
