My Husband and My Best Friend
I smiled, tapping through them one by one, until I reached the last one.
The frame was shaky, but the background was crystal clear. I heard my husband’s voice, warm and intimate.
“Honey, it’s your turn to wash up—”
My thumb, hovering over the heart icon, froze mid-air.
A cold dread washed over me. Mark’s “Good morning” text from this morning had a location tag clear as day: Boston, a thousand miles away. But his voice, right now, was echoing from a hotel room in Miami.
I stared at Lauren’s beaming face on the screen, a pit opening in my stomach.
Without a second’s hesitation, I closed Instagram and booked the next flight to Miami. I had to see it with my own eyes—
Why the man who was supposedly on a business trip to Boston was whispering sweet nothings in a hotel room in Miami.
1
The three-and-a-half-hour flight was a slow, cold torture, every minute a new incision into my heart.
I sat by the window, watching the glittering lights of Miami spread out below me like a blanket of broken glass. My heart felt nothing, only a numb, steely resolve.
The taxi took me straight to their hotel. The Onyx. A high-end place known for its discretion.
I stood in the lobby, the cavernous, early-morning silence a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. As expected, the front desk clerk cited guest privacy and refused to give me any information, even barring me from going upstairs.
So I called Mark directly.
It rang for a while before he picked up.
“Hello? Lily? Hey, why are you still up so late?”
His voice was thick with sleep, a flawless performance of a man woken from a deep slumber.
“Where are you?” My own voice was so calm it scared me.
“In my hotel in Boston, of course. Just finished a marathon meeting. I’m exhausted, was about to pass out,” he said, punctuating it with a yawn.
“Is that so? Why don’t you walk over to the window, take a picture of the Boston night skyline for me?” I said, my eyes fixed on the lobby clock.
The line went silent. I could only hear the faint crackle of static.
A few seconds later, his voice returned, laced with irritation. “What’s gotten into you? It’s the middle of the night. The curtains are drawn, I’m already in bed.”
I was done playing games.
“I’m in Miami. In the lobby of The Onyx Hotel. Are you coming down, or am I coming up?”
“…”
A long, dead silence, then the abrupt beep of a disconnected call.
Ten minutes later, Mark appeared in the lobby, dressed in a hotel robe, his hair a mess.
“Lillian! Are you insane? What the hell are you doing in Miami in the middle of the night?!”
His face was a mask of fury. He lunged first, grabbing my arm, his grip bruising.
I wrenched my arm free, my gaze like a blade. “And you? Weren’t you in Boston?”
“I… something came up last minute. I had to fly to Miami to handle it. I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet.” His eyes darted around, avoiding mine.
“Handle what? With my best friend? In a hotel room?” I pushed past him, heading straight for the elevators. “What’s the room number? I want to see just how you two were ‘handling’ things.”
Panic flashed across Mark’s face.
He grabbed me again, his voice a harsh whisper. “Stop making a scene! It’s not what you think!”
“Lauren was here on a business trip too, and she got her wallet and ID stolen! She couldn’t get a room! I was just helping her out, for your sake! I let her crash in the living room of my suite for one night! Nothing happened between us!”
“‘Nothing happened?’” I nearly laughed out loud. “So that ‘honey’ I heard was just part of your purely platonic friendship?”
His face went pale. He was speechless.
Just then, Lauren herself came down, also in a hotel robe, her hair still damp. Her expression was a perfect picture of panic and hurt. “Lily, what are you doing here? Please don’t misunderstand! I just lost all my things, Mark was kind enough to help me… I swear, nothing happened!”
She reached for my hand, but I recoiled as if from a snake.
Ignoring their frantic explanations, I forced my way into an elevator.
I knew Mark’s habits. I pressed the button for the top floor, the penthouse level.
They scrambled in after me, trying to block my way, but the doors slid shut before they could stop me.
The suite door was ajar. As soon as I stepped inside, the lingering scent of Lauren's signature perfume hit me.
The living room looked tidy at a glance, but a single one of Lauren's earrings glinted from the deep cushions of the sofa. The bedroom door was closed, but my eyes caught a tiny sliver of lace—a woman’s underwear—pinched beneath it. On the floor, Mark’s suit jacket and her silk scarf were tangled together in a heap.
Just as I took it all in, Mark and Lauren finally caught up, breathless.
“Lillian! What the hell do you want?!” Mark was cornered, his voice bordering on hysterical.
I pointed at the bedroom door, my voice ice. “Open it.”
“Lillian, that’s enough! Don’t you dare push your luck!” Mark’s mask of civility finally shattered. He shouted, trying to intimidate me. “I work my ass off to provide for us, and this is how you repay me? With insane jealousy and paranoia? Coming here to humiliate me? Look at you! You’re acting like a damn shrew!”
Lauren, on cue, began to sob as if she were the one who had been wronged. “Lily, after all our years of friendship, how could you not trust me… If I had known this would happen, I would have rather slept on the street than ask Mark for help…”
I looked at this pair of master actors, my heart as cold as an Antarctic glacier.
“Fine. You won’t open the door. Then I’ll have security pull the surveillance footage.”
I turned to leave, but Mark lunged, grabbing my wrist so hard I stumbled. “You have no right! The hotel will never let you see it!”
As if on cue, the hotel manager arrived, politely refusing my request. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We have a duty to protect the privacy of all our guests. We cannot release security footage.”
Lauren lifted her eyes, casting a quick, triumphant glance in my direction. A flicker of mockery danced in her pupils.
I clenched my fists, fury boiling inside me. I had been too impulsive, giving them the perfect chance to spin their lies.
Just then, Mark pulled me into a sudden, forceful hug, his voice softening. “Lily, honey, please stop this, okay? Trust me, nothing happened. Let’s go home. We’ll go home, and I’ll explain everything, I promise.”
His scent, once a comfort, was now mingled with Lauren’s perfume, turning my stomach.
I shoved him away with all my strength. He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock and anger.
“Trust you?” I let my gaze sweep over the tainted room, then settle on their two deceitful faces. “I only trust what I see and what I hear.”
I knew I wouldn't be able to expose them tonight. They had already constructed the perfect alibi.
Back in New York.
I didn’t waste any time. “Mark, I want a divorce.”
He shot up from the couch as if he’d been electrocuted. “A divorce? Lillian, you want a divorce over some baseless suspicion? You’re being ridiculous! I’m telling you, I didn’t cheat! Not in a million years!”
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me alone in the vast, empty apartment.
I looked around the home that once felt so warm, now every particle of air felt thick with betrayal.
Once the initial rage subsided, I started to think.
When did it start?
About six months ago, I’d asked Mark to get Lauren a job at his company after she’d been laid off. After that, his business trips became more and more frequent. He changed his phone password. His touch became rare, always brushed off with a tired, “I’m exhausted.”
With a detective’s focus, I began to hunt for clues in their digital lives. I created a burner account and scoured every one of Lauren’s social media profiles.
And there it was, hidden in the details I’d missed.
Three months ago, she posted a photo from the corner of a coffee shop with the caption, “Stealing a moment of peace.” In the reflection of the glass, I could see the blurry outline of a man’s watch. It was the limited-edition one I’d given Mark for his birthday.
Two months ago, she showed off a new perfume, calling it her “secret weapon.” Around that same time, Mark had started carrying a similar faint scent.
Even earlier, she’d posted a cryptic message: “Some people are destined to be your ruin.” And right there, underneath, was a ‘like’ from Mark—a notification I’d somehow never seen.
Mark’s own feed was a carefully curated image of work and our life together, but it had holes. The location-tagged photos from his “Boston trips” often had background elements—the view from a window, a lamp on a desk—that were eerily similar to details in Lauren's posts from the same period.
They had been carrying on an affair right under everyone’s noses.
I hired a private investigator and began systematically gathering evidence.
At the same time, I started taking inventory of our assets.
This sprawling downtown penthouse was bought and paid for in full by my parents before our wedding. My car was also a pre-nuptial asset.
Mark came from a small town in the middle of nowhere, the textbook case of a man who’d married up. Most of the money he’d earned over the years had been sent back home to support his bottomless pit of a family—his lazy, entitled siblings. He had almost no savings to his name. Our joint expenses were mostly paid for with my secondary credit card.
The reason he refused to divorce wasn’t love. It was the comfortable life and the social status I provided.
A bitter smile touched my lips.
Did he think he could use me as a stepping stone, bleed me dry to support his mistress?
Not in his wildest dreams.
I wanted a divorce.
And I would make sure he left with nothing but the clothes on his back and a ruined name.
Armed with evidence, I chose the most direct and satisfying path.
I took the partially recovered chat logs and the side-by-side travel comparisons from the investigator and went straight to their office.
In front of all their colleagues, I slapped the printouts onto Lauren’s desk.
“Lauren, does it feel good? Climbing into my husband’s bed using the job I got for you?”
The entire office fell silent. Every eye was on us.
Lauren’s face turned white, but the tears came instantly, a well-rehearsed performance. She covered her face, her sobs dramatic and heart-wrenching. “Lily… Lillian! How could you say such things! You’re trying to ruin me! Mark and I are just colleagues! Just because you can’t keep his heart, you want to destroy us both? How could you be so cruel!”
Mark rushed over, drawn by the commotion. When he saw the papers scattered on the floor, his face went dark. He lunged, grabbing my wrist with a force that felt like it could shatter bone.
“Don’t listen to her! She’s a psycho! Completely paranoid! I’ve had enough of this! I work my ass off, and she sits at home inventing these fantasies, and now she has the nerve to cause a scene at my office! Security! Security! Get this crazy woman out of here!” he roared, for the whole office to hear.
Whispers erupted around us. I saw pity in some eyes, but mostly, it was the thrill of office gossip. Someone even pointed at me, muttering the word “jealous.”
I was “escorted” out by two security guards.
Lauren followed me out, still sobbing.
But once we were alone in a quiet corner of the hallway, the tears vanished. Her expression morphed into one of triumphant scorn.
“Look at you, Lillian. So pathetic. Did you really think throwing a tantrum like this would make Mark come back to you? You’re wrong. All you did was push him further away.”
“He stopped loving you a long time ago. He told me you’re like a block of wood in bed, that touching you makes his skin crawl. The person he loves is me!”
Her words were needles dipped in poison, piercing me one by one. All the overlooked details suddenly snapped into focus—the increasing late nights at the office, the way he always slept with his back to me, the perfunctory kisses. It wasn’t exhaustion. It was disgust.
Lauren turned and walked away, her head held high.
I stood there, my body numb with cold, my heart burning.
Just then, my phone rang. It was my lawyer.
“Ms. Bright, everything is in place. The asset freeze has been executed, and the divorce settlement is drafted as per your instructions. After compensating for joint expenditures, the savings from his salary are negligible.”
“Good.”
I hung up, a grim satisfaction settling in. I straightened my clothes, which had been rumpled in the scuffle.
I had expected to be thrown out today.
All I wanted was to plant the seeds of gossip. Now, it was time to watch them grow.
When I got home, Mark was already there, which was a surprise. He was slumped on the sofa, looking drained.
When he saw me, his tone softened. He tried to take my hand. “Lily, about today… I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said those things. But you shouldn’t have come to the office. It was a huge mess.”
“Here’s what we’ll do. You go and apologize to Lauren, and we’ll put this all behind us. I… I forgive you. We can go back to how things were, okay?”
I thought I had misheard him.
“You two have an affair, and you want me to apologize to her?”
Panic flickered in his eyes, but he held his ground. “I told you! There was no affair! It was a misunderstanding!”
“A misunderstanding?” I let out a cold laugh and pulled a USB drive from my purse. “Mark, did you really think I couldn’t get my hands on the real evidence? Money can make anything happen. Even hotel security footage.”
I plugged the drive into the TV. The screen lit up with a high-definition video from the hotel corridor, timestamped on the night of Lauren’s birthday.
It showed him and Lauren, wrapped in each other’s arms, stumbling out of the elevator. They were kissing feverishly before they even reached the door, his hands already sliding under her robe…
The color drained from Mark’s face. His mouth hung open, but no words came out.
I took out the divorce papers I had prepared and placed them gently on the coffee table in front of him.
“Sign it.”
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