I’ve been best friends with Malina for 20 years. She was there through everything—high school, heartbreaks, family tragedies. Practically a sister.
But the night I went into labor, something changed. While I was mid-contraction, Malina was texting my husband: “I can be there in 10 minutes if you need company.” Jamil showed me the messages—he never replied, he was with me the whole time. Still, something in me twisted.
Weeks later, I found out she’d told her brother she “had a good talk” with Jamil during my labor—something that never happened. She was rewriting the story, trying to insert herself into our lives in a way that felt wrong.
When I confronted her, she got defensive and walked away. Then I started hearing she was spreading subtle rumors—cryptic posts, whispers to acquaintances about me “struggling.”
I blocked her. Focused on my baby and my husband. And over time, I realized: I didn’t need revenge. Life was already catching up with her.
Months later, I got a note in her handwriting: “I was envious. You had what I always wanted. I’m working on myself.”
I didn’t reply. I just let go.
Because some friendships don’t end in explosions—they fade when someone shows you they can’t stand beside you anymore. And that’s okay.
