We thought a girls’ trip would bring us closer. Instead, it tore us apart.
I’m Lauren, 31 now. This happened in summer 2023, when four of us — me, my best friend since college Mia (31), our friend Jess (30), and Sarah (32, the one we met through work) — finally booked the Bali trip we’d talked about for years.
We’d been tight since our early 20s: brunches, group chats blowing up daily, supporting each other through breakups, job losses, moves. Mia was the planner — spreadsheets, Pinterest boards, nonstop excitement. We saved for 18 months: flights, private villa with infinity pool in Ubud, spa days, beach club in Seminyak, cooking class, the works. $4,500 each — our big splurge.
July 15, 2023 — we landed in Denpasar, giggling like kids, matching linen outfits, ready for paradise.
First three days were magic.
Villa stunning — rice-field views, private chef breakfasts. Monkey forest, temples, sunset cocktails. Photos everywhere. “Best trip ever” posts.
Then day four — the disaster started.
We hired a private driver for a day trip to Mount Batur volcano — sunrise hike, hot springs, coffee plantation.
Left at 2 AM.
Sarah had been partying hard the night before — beach club till 4 AM. Hungover, grumpy, but came.
Halfway up the hike — steep, dark, flashlights — Sarah started complaining: “This is too hard. My head’s pounding. I’m going back.”
We encouraged: “You’ve got this! Sunrise is worth it.”
She turned around alone — guide stayed with us.
We reached the top — breathtaking sunrise, photos, breakfast.
Descended happy.
No Sarah at the van.
Driver said she’d taken a scooter taxi back to the villa hours ago.
We texted — no reply.
Phone dead, maybe.
Got back to villa around noon.
Sarah wasn’t there.
Her room empty — bed made, suitcase gone.
Passport, phone charger, everything missing.
Panic.
Called her — straight to voicemail.
Messaged on WhatsApp — read receipts off.
Searched the villa — found a note on the kitchen counter:
“Girls, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. The vibe is off, I feel like an outsider. I’m going home early. Don’t worry about me.”
We freaked.
Called hotels, airports, her emergency contact (her sister) — no one knew.
Her credit card — charges at a Seminyak hotel, then a flight change fee.
She’d left Bali that day — alone.
Without telling us face-to-face.
We were stunned.
Hurt.
Angry.
The rest of the trip — ruined.
We tried to salvage: spa day, beach.
But tension.
Mia cried: “How could she abandon us?”
Jess: “Maybe we excluded her without realizing.”
I was furious: “She could’ve talked to us. Not ghosted mid-trip.”
We cut the trip short — flew home two days early.
Lost money on villa, activities.
Back home, Sarah finally texted — group chat:
“Sorry for how I left. I was overwhelmed, felt like you guys had your own thing. Needed space.”
No real apology.
We responded — hurt, asking for explanation.
She said we’d been “cliquey,” inside jokes excluding her, judging her partying.
We’d known each other longer — yes, history. But we’d included her in everything.
The fight escalated.
Accusations flew.
Mia: “You ruined the trip we saved years for.”
Sarah: “You made me feel like a tag-along.”
Jess tried mediating — failed.
Sarah left the group chat.
Blocked us on socials.
We tried reaching out individually — letters, calls.
Radio silence.
By fall 2023, friendship over.
Sarah moved cities in 2024 — new job, new friends.
We heard through mutuals she told people we “bullied her on vacation.”
We stopped talking about her.
The three of us are still close — closer, even.
But there’s a hole.
The trip photos — beautiful, but painful.
We look happy.
We weren’t, by the end.
Bali was supposed to be our forever memory.
Instead, it became the trip that ended a friendship.
One person felt left out — or used it as excuse to leave dramatically.
Didn’t communicate.
Chose flight over fight.
And left three friends stranded — emotionally, financially, heartbroken.
Travel tests friendships.
Ours didn’t survive the test.
Because sometimes, paradise shows you who’s really there for the long haul.
And who’s ready to board a plane home at the first sign of turbulence.
Even when the turbulence is just feelings.
We lost Sarah in Bali.
And never really got her back.
The travel disaster wasn’t lost luggage or flight delays.
It was losing someone we thought was family.
Over a vacation that was supposed to celebrate it.
TL;DR: Four best friends took a dream girls’ trip to Bali. One felt excluded, left mid-trip without warning, flying home alone and ghosting us. The abandonment ruined the vacation, sparked massive fights over perceived cliquey behavior, and permanently ended the friendship — splitting the group and leaving lasting hurt.
