I never thought a boy could come between us.
After all, we’d survived everything else together.
I’m Sophie, 31 now. This happened when we were 24–25, in 2018–2019, right after college in Chicago.
My best friend was Lena.
We met freshman year at DePaul — bonded in a terrible econ class, became inseparable. Same major (communications), same sense of humor, same taste in music and bad reality TV. We lived together junior and senior year, traveled to Europe after graduation, were each other’s emergency contact. She was maid of honor at my sister’s wedding; I was hers at her brother’s. We told each other everything — no secrets, no judgment.
Then we met Ethan.
Summer 2018, rooftop party in Wicker Park. Ethan was 26 — graphic designer, tall, quiet smile, played guitar. Funny without trying, kind eyes, the kind of guy who remembered your coffee order.
Lena saw him first.
Pulled me aside: “Soph, that guy in the black shirt — I’m obsessed. Introduce me?”
I knew the host — made the intro.
They hit it off instantly. Talked all night. He asked for her number.
She texted me at 2 AM: “He’s perfect. I’m in trouble.”
For weeks, it was all she talked about.
Dates at indie concerts, deep conversations, him meeting her parents early. She was glowing — “I think he’s the one.”
I was happy for her.
Truly.
Until I wasn’t just happy anymore.
Ethan and I started crossing paths more — same friend group, same bars. Lena would invite me to hangouts: “Come third-wheel! We love you!”
At first, it was fine.
Then I noticed things.
How he’d ask my opinion on design stuff. How he’d laugh harder at my jokes. How he’d text the group chat but DM me separately about random memes.
The butterflies started.
I hated myself for it.
Told myself it was nothing. He was Lena’s.
I pulled back — declined hangouts, made excuses.
Lena noticed: “You’ve been weird. Everything okay?”
I lied: “Just busy with work.”
By fall, Lena and Ethan were official.
She posted couple photos. I liked every one — heart emoji, “You guys are goals.”
But inside, I was crumbling.
I’d never felt this way about anyone.
Then December 2018 — the night that changed everything.
Lena was out of town for a family wedding.
Ethan texted me: “In your neighborhood, grabbing drinks at our spot. Join if you’re free?”
I should’ve said no.
I said yes.
We talked for hours — no Lena mention at first. Then it spilled out.
He said he’d always felt a connection with me. That dating Lena felt safe, but with me it felt… electric.
I admitted the same.
We kissed in the bar booth.
The guilt was instant.
We swore it was a mistake. Alcohol. Wouldn’t happen again.
It happened again.
For four months, we carried on a secret emotional (and sometimes physical) affair.
Texts all day. Stolen meetups when Lena was at work. Lying to her face.
Lena sensed something — asked if I was seeing someone. I said no.
She started fighting with Ethan — “You’re distant.”
He blamed work stress.
In April 2019, Lena found out.
A mutual friend saw us at a coffee shop — hand-holding, too close.
Told Lena.
She called me sobbing: “How could you? You’re my best friend!”
I confessed everything.
She screamed: “You’re dead to me.”
Blocked me everywhere.
Told our entire friend group.
Sides were taken.
Half cut me off — “You betrayed her.”
Half stayed neutral but distant.
Ethan broke up with Lena — “I’m sorry, but it’s not working.”
Told her about us.
She moved out of Chicago six months later — new job in Seattle.
Didn’t invite me to her going-away party.
Ethan and I dated officially after.
Tried to make it work.
But it was poisoned.
Every fight: “You only got me because you stole me.”
His guilt. My guilt.
Lena’s ghost in every conversation.
We lasted a year.
Broke up in 2020 — “We started wrong. We can’t fix it.”
I’ve tried reaching out to Lena twice — letters, no response.
She’s married now. Happy, from what mutual friends say.
Doesn’t speak my name.
I’m in therapy.
Single.
Still miss my best friend every day.
The one person who knew me better than anyone.
Lost because I let a crush become more important than 10 years of friendship.
I thought love would win.
It didn’t.
It just left two people who cared about each other — destroyed.
And me, learning the hardest way:
Some boundaries aren’t meant to be crossed.
Not with your best friend’s person.
Ever.
Because once you do, you don’t just risk the romance.
You lose the safest relationship you’ve ever had.
And no guy is worth that.
Not even the one who felt like “the one.”
TL;DR: My best friend and I both fell for the same guy; he chose her first. While they dated, he and I started a secret emotional/physical affair. When she found out, she ended our 15-year friendship permanently. He and I dated openly after their breakup but the guilt and toxic foundation ended us too. One shared crush destroyed my closest friendship and changed my life forever.
