Between His Wife and His Lifelong Best Friend

On our wedding anniversary, my husband did something incredibly rare. He brought home a bouquet of flowers.

The second he walked through the door, he didn't even take off his coat. He went straight for a glass vase, carefully filling it with water and patiently arranging the stems.

What put you in such a good mood today? I asked, a genuine smile touching my lips.

"Amanda bought them," he replied with a light chuckle. "She told me she'd kick my ass if I let them die. How could I not take this seriously?"

Amanda. His female childhood best friend.

I froze. My mind violently drifted away to a memory from just two weeks ago.

It was my birthday. My parents, who had lived frugally their entire lives, walked halfway across the city to a premium florist just to buy me a beautiful bouquet as a gift.

But when Wesley came home that night, his first reaction was to snatch the flowers off the dining table and toss them onto the messy shoe rack right in front of my parents.

"They take up too much space on the table," he had muttered. "Don't bother with this kind of stuff anymore. It's just a hassle."

My parents' faces flushed with deep embarrassment, but they kept their mouths shut, terrified of making things difficult for me.

It took me far too long to finally understand.

The flowers were never the hassle. I was the hassle.

Since that was the case, I no longer needed to harbor any expectations.

My gaze lingered on Amanda's pristine flowers for only a fraction of a second before I turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

A slow-roasted tenderloin, two elegant side dishes, and a creamy bisque sat on the marble counter.

I had been slaving away over the stove since four in the afternoon for this anniversary dinner.

Looking at the food that had gone completely cold, I silently picked up the plates and shoved them into the microwave.

This was the third time I had reheated our dinner tonight.

Wesley usually got off work at six. I had timed everything perfectly. But by eight o'clock, he still wasn't home.

I called him. The background noise on his end was a chaotic blur of loud chatter.

"What is it?" he answered, his tone laced with blatant impatience.

I purposely didn't mention our anniversary. I just asked what time he would be home.

Wesley stayed silent for a long, agonizing moment before finally speaking.

"Give me about half an hour."

I started to tell him to drive safe, but the line went dead before I could finish the sentence.

It wasn't until ten o'clock at night that I finally heard the turn of the deadbolt.

Wesley walked in, a faint, lingering smile painted across his handsome face.

"Hey honey, I'm home. Sorry to keep you waiting."

The moment the apology left his mouth, he completely ignored me and started fussing over his precious flowers.

He ordered premium plant food on his phone. He called a florist buddy to ask about the exact sunlight requirements.

Another half hour vanished into thin air.

He had completely forgotten that today was our anniversary.

He had also forgotten that he was the one who suggested we stay in and cook a nice dinner tonight.

I didn't reheat the food a fourth time. I didn't call him over.

I simply sat alone at the dining table, quietly chewing the meal I had spent hours perfecting.

By the time I finished washing my plate and wiping down the sink, Wesley finally remembered I existed.

"Honey, didn't you say you were cooking tonight? I'm starving."

His tone was incredibly casual, acting as if nothing was wrong.

When I didn't immediately respond, his brow furrowed, and he raised his voice.

"Audrey? What's wrong with you? Did you not cook? Ugh, whatever, I'll just order some takeout."

There was a very obvious trace of disappointment in his voice when he said that.

But it only lasted a second.

As he turned his head to admire the meticulously pruned flowers, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled upward.

Right at that moment, his phone vibrated on the counter.

I glanced over and caught a clear view of the caller ID.

Amanda. Followed by a bright red heart emoji.

An inexplicable memory from last week crashed into my mind. I had borrowed his phone to check the tracking on an Amazon package.

Whether it was in his call log or his messaging app, I was saved under my full legal name.

Audrey Davis.

I had actually picked a fight with him over it.

And Wesley had expertly produced an excuse to shut me up.

"I have to hand my phone to my coworkers to check files all the time. I don't want them seeing cheesy nicknames. It's unprofessional. Besides, our relationship is our business. I call you 'honey' when we're alone, don't I?"

I believed him.

It wasn't until this exact second that the brutal truth slapped me in the face.

I had been lying to myself this entire time.

Right before we got married, Wesley mentioned he had a childhood friend living in Europe. He told me that if Amanda ever moved back to the States, he had to look out for her.

I didn't think much of it back then. I had guy friends I grew up with too.

But slowly, the boundaries began to blur into something toxic.

No matter what Wesley was doing, a single text from Amanda was enough to make him drop everything and run.

My birthday happens to be on the exact same day as Amanda's. Wesley always celebrated with her first.

I had cried. I had screamed. I had thrown things.

And all it ever earned me was a cold glare and him telling me I was acting like a crazy person.

I remained completely silent in the kitchen. Wesley's sharp eyes suddenly caught the stack of clean, empty plates on the drying rack.

"You did cook? Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Since when did you become so selfish, Audrey? Seriously, that's just petty."

The insult slipped off his tongue effortlessly. It was basically muscle memory.

It was as if, deep down in his core, he truly believed I was a vindictive, terrible wife.

I didn't even bother lifting my head. My voice was a flat, hollow line. "I did tell you."

"The second you walked in, I told you dinner was ready."

"But you were too busy babying your flowers and texting your phone to even look at me."

Wesley choked on his words.

A heavy silence suffocated the room for a long time before he finally cleared his throat.

"I guess I didn't hear you," he said, his tone defensive. "You know how I get. I can't multitask when I'm focused on something."

I kept my eyes on the floor, letting out a silent, self-deprecating laugh.

That was a blatant lie.

Six months ago, I accidentally slipped with a kitchen knife and sliced my finger open.

Thick, dark blood immediately began pouring into the sink.

Hearing my gasp, Wesley rushed into the kitchen to wrap my hand in a towel. But his phone was pressed against his ear. He was on a call with Amanda.

"You're a grown woman, how are you this clumsy?" he scolded me harshly. "Thank God you didn't hit the bone, otherwise I'd have to waste my night dragging you to the ER. Do you know how annoying that is?"

He had always been like this. Even his version of caring felt like a verbal beating.

I had swallowed the pain, opening my mouth to assure him I was fine.

But Amanda's voice blasted through the speakerphone first. She sounded frantic and incredibly annoyed.

"Ugh! I can't find my AirPods again! I tore the whole apartment apart! I'm so mad, you gave those to me!"

Wesley didn't even look up at my bleeding hand, yet he answered her without missing a beat.

"You dummy, didn't you say you were using them in bed? Check under your pillows."

She had randomly mentioned her headphones in passing hours ago.

I had absolutely no memory of it, yet Wesley had filed that tiny, useless detail away in his brain.

A few seconds of rustling echoed through the phone before Amanda squealed with joy.

"Found them! Look at you, Wes, paying such close attention to everything I say. I owe you a fancy dinner for this!"

Wesley actually laughed at her teasing. "Deal. We're going to that Italian place you love."

Standing in my own kitchen, dripping blood onto the floor, I felt like a trespasser watching two lovers through a window.

Even then, I stupidly brushed it off.

It took me until tonight to connect the dots.

He didn't have an attention problem. He just never cared enough to listen to a single word I said.

I pulled myself out of the suffocating memories.

"If you're hungry, order something yourself," I said coldly. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."

I turned to walk down the hall, but Wesley suddenly grabbed my wrist.

He stayed quiet for a second, his tone softening considerably.

"Honey, are you actually mad?"

"I didn't forget our anniversary. I really wanted to come home early to be with you, but Amanda insisted on buying me dinner. I couldn't just brush her off. That's why I'm late."

"And I swear I didn't hear you call me for dinner. Please stop being mad, okay? I'll clean the kitchen. You go rest."

He glanced past my shoulder at the empty plates and let out a soft sigh.

"Don't cook such a massive meal next time. We've been married for years, we don't need all this romantic fluff. It's too much work."

It was incredibly rare for Wesley to willingly offer an explanation, but it only made my chest feel tighter.

Six years of marriage. For the first few years, he was constantly flying across the country trying to build his firm.

Then Amanda moved back.

We had barely celebrated a single anniversary properly.

This time, he was the one who specifically asked for a nice, home-cooked celebration.

So I spent hours prepping the food and decorating the living room with candles.

And my reward was him telling me my efforts were a chore.

It was utterly pathetic.

I walked into the master bedroom and laid on top of the covers.

The walls in this house weren't completely soundproof. Through the drywall, I could hear Wesley's low, relaxed laughter.

"Don't worry about the flowers, I'll keep them alive."

"It's supposed to pour tomorrow, don't forget your umbrella."

I didn't need to guess who was on the other end of the line.

Amanda must have said something demanding, because Wesley let out a helpless, indulgent chuckle.

"Fine, fine, I'll pick you up from your office, happy now? You really treat me like your personal butler."

It was past one in the morning when he finally walked into the bedroom.

Without asking if I was asleep, he slid into the sheets and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist from behind.

"I'll come home early next time, honey. I promise."

He didn't specify what the "next time" was for.

But I knew the absolute truth. There wasn't going to be a next time.

I used a bit of force to pry his fingers off my stomach.

Wesley's body stiffened in surprise. "What's wrong?"

I have suffered from severe insomnia since I was a teenager. I physically could not fall asleep unless I was holding onto something.

After we got married, Wesley memorized this habit.

No matter how late he worked, he always made sure to hold me until I drifted off.

I had grown completely dependent on his warmth.

But tonight, the feeling of his skin pressing against mine literally made my stomach turn.

"I want to sleep alone."

"Because I have no idea what time Amanda is going to call you next, and I don't want to be woken up again."

The mattress violently shifted. Wesley sat bolt upright, ripping the blanket off himself.

"What is your problem tonight? Do you really have to speak to me with such venom?"

"I've explained my relationship with Amanda a thousand times! Why are you always making up these delusional scenarios in your head?"

"I don't want to fight with you, but you are being completely unreasonable today."

I had heard this exact speech so many times I could recite it backwards.

Every single massive blowout we ever had was about Amanda.

It always ended with me breaking down in tears.

And Wesley would offer a half-hearted pat on the back, followed by his favorite critique.

"You really need to fix your temper, Audrey. Who else could put up with you but me?"

"You're constantly acting crazy and paranoid. No wonder Amanda doesn't want to be friends with you."

Yet, if Amanda threw a tantrum?

He offered endless comfort. He never raised his voice.

And he certainly never blamed her.

Seeing me lay there in silence, Wesley's temper flared.

"Audrey, if you have a problem, just say it. Stop making me guess your mood!"

"I work like a dog all day, and I come home just to walk on eggshells around you. I'm a human being. I get tired too."

I kept my mouth shut.

A memory from just last week abruptly surfaced in my mind.

Wesley had been stuck at the office finalizing a massive merger until 3 AM. He came home with dark purple bags under his eyes and passed out on the living room sofa with his shoes still on.

But the second his phone rang and Amanda's name flashed on the screen, he shot up like a soldier.

"What? Your hallway light bulb burned out? Okay, I'm coming over to fix it right now. Don't be scared."

He was running on zero hours of sleep, yet the word "tired" never left his lips.

Amanda lived on the south side of town, a solid forty-minute drive from our house.

I couldn't bear to watch him exhaust himself, so I suggested Amanda call the building super, or at least wait until the sun came up.

Wesley immediately snapped at me.

"Are you insane? Amanda is terrified of the dark. Having no lights is torture for her."

"Besides, she's a woman living alone. You want her letting a random maintenance guy into her apartment at 3 AM? What is wrong with you?"

He grabbed his car keys and slammed the front door without looking back.

I was left standing in the foyer, completely paralyzed.

I was terrified of the dark, too.

Once, I had to work late at the office until midnight. The subway was sketchy, so I called Wesley and asked if he could pick me up.

His response? "It's your own fault for not managing your time better."

"You're a grown woman. Can you seriously not take an Uber home by yourself? Stop being so dramatic."

His blatant double standards weren't a new development.

I was just too incredibly stupid to accept reality until now.

I let out a bitter, raspy laugh, pulling myself out of the memory.

"Are you done talking? If you're not going to sleep, get out. I'm tired."

Wesley stood over the bed, looking down at me with absolute disgust.

"You are completely irrational."

He turned on his heel and stormed out.

The bedroom door slammed shut so violently the picture frames on the wall rattled.

The very last thread tethering my heart to this marriage snapped.

Any trace of sleep vanished from my system. I picked up my phone and opened a chat with an old college friend who worked in family law.

[Draft a divorce agreement for me. Make it as fast as humanly possible.]

The next morning, a sharp ringing jarred me awake.

But I never expected the name flashing on the screen. It was Amanda.

"Are you free this afternoon? We need to talk."

I was about to tell her to go to hell, but she hung up before I could get a word out.

After debating it for a few minutes, I grabbed my coat and headed to the address she texted me.

When I walked into the upscale cafe, Amanda was already sitting in a corner booth, sipping a latte.

"I honestly thought you wouldn't have the guts to show up."

I didn't take the bait. I sat across from her and cut straight to the point.

"What do you want?"

Amanda took a slow, deliberate sip from her mug. Her tone was smug and relaxed.

"Nothing much. I just noticed Wes was in a terrible mood this morning. I figured you two got into another fight, so I came to check on the situation."

She spoke about my husband as if he belonged to her. As if she possessed the ultimate authority to monitor his moods.

"If you have something to say, say it. Drop the passive-aggressive act."

She intentionally asked me out, intentionally used the pet name 'Wes' right to my face.

She wanted to see me lose my mind. She wanted me to scream and make a scene.

When I remained perfectly calm, the smugness melted off her face, replaced by a cold sneer.

"You know, you're a really fascinating person, Audrey."

"Every time Wes takes me out, you must be dying of jealousy on the inside, right? Yet you sit here pretending you don't care at all."

My heart skipped a beat.

She knew. She knew everything.

When I first noticed the red flags between them, I sat Wesley down.

"Don't you think Amanda is crossing the line?" I had pleaded. "She knows you're a married man, but she inserts herself into every single detail of your life."

"Are you sure you guys are just friends?"

Before I could even finish the sentence, Wesley aggressively cut me off. "You're delusional."

"Amanda's entire family is in Europe. I'm the only person she knows in this city. Isn't it normal that we talk a lot?"

"Besides, I've known her since we were wearing diapers. If there was ever going to be something between us, do you really think I would have married you?"

"Amanda is innocent and sweet. Stop projecting your dirty thoughts onto her. You're going to end up hurting her feelings."

Maybe Wesley was so deep in denial that he couldn't even hear himself.

Every single word out of his mouth was designed to protect her.

I never brought it up again after that day.

But sitting across from Amanda now, it was glaringly obvious. She knew exactly what she was doing.

The silver lining was that it simply didn't hurt anymore.

I casually picked up my own coffee cup and took a sip.

"You're giving yourself too much credit," I said smoothly.

"When I loved Wesley, he was worth something to me. Now that I don't give a damn about him, he's basically garbage."

"If you have a fetish for digging through the trash, be my guest. I'm officially handing him over to you."

My voice was deadpan. Amanda's face instantly hardened.

She stopped talking, glancing quickly down at her phone. A wicked, calculated smile crept onto her lips.

"Tell me, Audrey. If you and I got into a physical altercation right now, whose side do you think he would take?"

Before my brain could even process her words, Amanda lunged across the table, grabbed my full cup of iced coffee, and dumped it directly over her own chest.

She let out a piercing, theatrical scream.

Right on cue, a familiar voice roared from the entrance.

"Amanda!"

She looked at me, coffee dripping down her ruined designer dress, and smiled wickedly. "You lose."

A split second later, her face twisted into a mask of pure terror and heartbreak. She covered her mouth, fake sobs tearing from her throat.

"Audrey, why did you do that?! I only came here to apologize to you! Why would you throw your drink at me?"

Wesley practically sprinted across the cafe. Without asking a single question or letting me speak, he glared at me with eyes full of absolute venom.

"Audrey. Apologize to her. Now."

I stared at the two of them, thoroughly amused by the absolute absurdity of the situation. I raised my hand and flagged down a waiter.

"Can I get a refill on the iced coffee, please?"

The moment the waiter placed the fresh glass on the table, I picked it up and hurled the dark liquid directly into both of their faces.

"Take a good look, Wesley," I said coldly. "That is what it looks like when I actually do it."

Wesley stood there, dripping wet, staring at me like I was a monster. He didn't say another word.

He frantically grabbed napkins to wipe Amanda's face and ushered her out of the cafe to get her changed.

I watched their retreating figures, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping my lips.

It was finally time to kill this rotting marriage.