The Triple Betrayal: He Cheated With My Best Friend So I Left Chapter 02
Aunt Rachel’s voice came through the receiver, careful, hopeful.
“Nora. You really mean it? “
“Thank god, you finally came around. That whole thing back then really did a number on you. I always thought you’d never get over it. I honestly…”
She paused, steadied her voice. “I’ll book the flight. Tomorrow afternoon, is that okay?”
I blinked, my eyes dry and aching. “Okay. I’ll go pack. See you at the airport tomorrow afternoon.”
I hung up and found a hotel nearby.
The sheets there were clean. Untouched. No trace of anyone’s scent.
That night I slept strangely well.
I didn’t wake until the next afternoon.
I went home.
The door swung open onto an empty living room. No Julian. No Ivy.
I walked straight to the master bedroom to pack.
The moment the door opened, I stood frozen.
I’d braced myself for this, but it still pierced me like a blade.
The sheets sat balled up at the foot of the bed, the pillow shoved sideways.
A pink lace bra with scalloped edges hung off the mattress rail—the kind Ivy always wore, the cups still molded to the shape of her body.
A pair of pink underwear lay on the sheet, stained and discarded.
Every mark on that bed told me exactly how they’d spent the night marking their victory after I left.
I took one numb step forward.
My eyes caught the strap of the bra. And there it was.
50min. In black marker.
Something in my chest finished dying right there.
Those two digits threw me straight back three years, to the night she moved in.
We’d lain in bed that night, swapping secrets like schoolgirls.
She told me she’d just started seeing someone.
His job made it complicated, she said. He couldn’t be public. They barely got to see each other.
I’d noticed numbers on her bra straps before that. Sometimes 35. Sometimes 48. Once, 72.
I asked what they meant. I couldn’t help myself.
She’d been lying next to me, grinning. “It’s a timer. For how long my boyfriend lasts inside me, you know? Our own little scoreboard.”
I’d laughed with her back then. I’d been happy she’d found someone.
Turned out… it started way back then.
That man had always been Julian.
And that night, when she bragged to me, what was she feeling?
Amusement? Mockery? Pity?
Before I could figure it out, I was already out of the room and in hers, next door.
I opened her closet.
The wall inside was lined with bras, hung in rows, straps facing out.
Every strap was covered in numbers.
Some circled with little hearts. Some traced twice in red ink.
It read like a calendar, a private record kept for an audience of one.
I wanted to cry. Nothing came.
My eyes burned as if they were about to burst.
Then my phone rang.
I answered it. A voice on the other end, urgent, frantic.
“Is this a relative of Ivy’s? Her condition is critical, she needs surgery immediately. “
“You’re listed as her emergency contact—please come sign the consent forms as soon as possible.”