We were the kind of friend group everyone envied.
Six of us, together since freshman year at UCLA in 2011. Me (Jade), Taylor, Mia, Sophie, Connor, and Dylan. We lived in the same dorm, survived finals together, road-tripped to Coachella, celebrated graduations side-by-side. After college, we all ended up in Los Angeles — different jobs, different apartments, but the same unbreakable bond. Sunday brunches, group chats blowing up daily, annual Big Bear cabin trips. We were family.
Then Dylan and Taylor started dating in 2018.
They were perfect together — both teachers, both loved hiking, both had that calm energy that balanced the rest of our chaos. We all cheered when they moved in together in 2020. When they got engaged in 2022, we threw the most epic engagement party. Taylor asked all four of us girls to be bridesmaids. Wedding was set for October 2024.
I was genuinely happy for them.
Until I wasn’t just happy anymore.
Dylan and I had always been close — the kind of close where we’d text memes at 2 AM or grab coffee just the two of us when Taylor was busy. Everyone joked we were “work husband and wife,” but it was platonic. Or so I thought.
In early 2023, things shifted.
Taylor went through a tough time — her mom was diagnosed with cancer, and she was flying back to Phoenix every other weekend to help. Dylan was supportive, but he was also exhausted, carrying the emotional load alone.
One night in March, after a group dinner, everyone else went home. Dylan asked if I wanted to stay for one more drink. We ended up talking until 4 AM on their couch — about stress, fear of the future, feeling lost in our 30s. He admitted he felt lonely even though he was engaged.
I admitted I’d been single for years and was starting to wonder if I’d ever find what they had.
He looked at me differently that night.
Nothing happened. But the air changed.
Over the next months, while Taylor was away caring for her mom, Dylan and I started hanging out more. Coffee turned into dinners. Dinners turned into long drives with no destination. We talked about everything — dreams we’d never told anyone, insecurities, the parts of ourselves we hid from the group.
Then, in July 2023, it happened.
We were at his place (Taylor was in Phoenix again). We’d been watching a movie, sitting closer than usual. He paused it, looked at me, and said, “I think I’m falling for you.”
I should have left.
Instead, I kissed him.
We slept together that night.
The guilt was immediate and crushing.
But so was the pull.
We told ourselves it was a mistake. That it wouldn’t happen again.
It happened again. And again.
By fall, we were in a full secret relationship.
Texts all day. Stolen nights when Taylor was out of town or working late. We’d meet at my apartment or quiet bars across the city. We said “I love you” in whispers. We rationalized it: Taylor’s mom was so sick, this was the worst possible time to hurt her. We’d end it before the wedding. We were just helping each other through a hard time.
We lied to ourselves constantly.
The group started noticing things.
I was distant at brunches. Dylan and I avoided eye contact. Taylor asked me once why I seemed “off.” I said work stress.
She believed me.
Her mom passed in February 2024.
We all rallied around Taylor. Funerals, grief, supporting her through the darkest time. Dylan was the perfect fiancé — by her side constantly.
I stayed away as much as I could.
But the feelings didn’t go away.
In May 2024, five months before the wedding, Dylan told me he couldn’t marry Taylor. That he was in love with me. That he was going to tell her everything and end the engagement.
I panicked.
I told him we couldn’t do that to her — not after losing her mom, not right before the wedding she’d dreamed of since childhood. That we had to wait. That maybe we should end things completely.
He agreed to wait.
But we didn’t end it.
We just got better at hiding.
Until we got caught.
In August 2024, two months before the wedding, Mia needed to drop something off at my apartment unexpectedly. She had a spare key from years ago.
She walked in on us.
Dylan was there. We weren’t even being careless — just watching TV on the couch. But the way he had his arm around me, the way we jumped apart — it was obvious.
Mia didn’t scream. She just stared, said “Oh my God,” and left.
By that night, the entire group knew.
Taylor called me sobbing. Asked if it was true. I couldn’t lie anymore.
I told her everything.
She didn’t yell. She just said, “How could you?” and hung up.
Dylan told her in person the next day. Ended the engagement.
The wedding was canceled. Deposits lost. Bridesmaid dresses hung unused.
The friend group imploded.
Sophie and Connor sided with Taylor — cut me and Dylan off completely. Mia tried to stay neutral but eventually stopped responding to my texts.
Taylor moved out of the apartment she shared with Dylan. Moved back to Phoenix for a while.
Dylan and I… tried to make it work.
We went public. Moved in together in late 2024.
But it never felt right.
Every holiday, every memory, every inside joke — poisoned. We couldn’t go to our favorite brunch spot without remembering Taylor crying there after her mom died. Couldn’t look at group photos without seeing the holes where our friends used to be.
We lasted nine months.
In September 2025, we broke up.
He said he’d always wonder if we’d destroyed lives for something real — or just for the thrill of secrecy.
I said I’d always feel like the person who betrayed her best friend.
We’re both single now. Civil when we run into each other, but distant.
Taylor is back in LA. Engaged again — to someone new. She blocked me everywhere, but I hear she’s happy.
The friend group never recovered. The annual Big Bear trip didn’t happen this year. The group chat is dead.
Fifteen years of friendship — sleepovers, breakups, job losses, celebrations — gone because two of us couldn’t control what we felt.
I don’t blame Mia for telling. I blame us for lying.
Secret relationships feel intense because they’re hidden.
But when the secret ends, what’s left is just the damage.
And some damage can’t be repaired.
No matter how real the love felt in the dark.
TL;DR: Fell in love with my best friend’s fiancé while she was grieving her mother’s illness. We hid the relationship for over a year, but when we were caught two months before their wedding, the truth destroyed the engagement and shattered our tight-knit friend group of 15 years. Even after trying to build a life together, the guilt and loss ended our relationship too. Some choices cost more than you can ever pay back.
