Love Was Never Meant to Last

My best friend, Jake Lawson, caught his fiancée, Lyla Sterling, cheating right in the middle of their engagement party. Instead of apologizing, Lyla just sneered at Jake in front of the entire crowded room. "Oh, please. As if any other girl in the world would actually want you." Jake balled his hands into tight fists, his knees buckling like he was about to collapse. In a moment of pure, reckless impulse, I grabbed my own girlfriend’s hand and shoved it directly into his palm. "Who says nobody wants him?" I demanded, my voice ringing out across the hall. "Starting right now, she's his girlfriend." My girlfriend, Nora Mitchell, froze, totally stunned. A heartbeat later, she played along. She wrapped her arm tightly around Jake’s, and together, they walked straight out of the party. Late that night, the three of us knocked back drinks together, laughing it off. We all agreed it was just a one-time performance. However, Lyla wouldn't stop harassing Jake. Nora started stepping in as the fake girlfriend to keep Lyla away, accompanying him to parties and helping him navigate dinner with his parents. I never suspected a single thing. Until I stumbled across a post online. [Borrowed my best friend’s girlfriend to spite my cheating ex. Now I don’t want to give her back. What do I do?] The original poster said his best friend had handed the girl over with his own two hands. The first time they held hands was just for show. The first time they hugged was just an act. The first time she spent the night at his house, though, was completely real. People in the comments flamed him for being a backstabbing snake. He replied: [After that night, things happened between us. I'm taking responsibility for her.] I stared at the photo frame on our living room table, the three of us smiling back at me, as a sickening cold crept from my fingers all the way down to my toes. I only lent him a single night to save his dignity. They took that single night and turned it into forever. Chapter 1 The next day, my best friend, Jake Lawson, had his parents host a family dinner to smooth things over after the broken engagement. My girlfriend, Nora Mitchell, was expected to attend as his new girlfriend. She asked me to come along. "You’re Jake’s best friend," she said softly, "If you're there to vouch for us, his parents will actually believe this isn't just some petty revenge scheme against his ex." I stared at her. "And what exactly is my role here?" Nora hesitated for a fraction of a second, then gave my shoulder a light, casual pat. "As a good friend, obviously. It’s just acting. Don’t overthink it." At the restaurant, the waiter placed a seafood platter directly in front of me. Knowing my severe allergy, Nora immediately slid the dish out of reach and swapped it for a bowl of soup. "Be careful," she warned, "There might be tiny shrimp in that." My white-knuckled grip relaxed just a fraction. She hadn't forgotten. She still remembered what I couldn't eat. However, the second Jake muttered that he wasn't feeling hungry, Nora abandoned my soup. "Is something wrong with the food?" she asked. Before Jake could even answer, she was already picking the olives out of his salad and flagging down the server to take away the mango dessert. "He doesn't eat olives," she instructed the waiter, "And mangoes mess up his stomach." My soup sat ignored at the edge of the table, turning cold. It wasn't that she had forgotten how to take care of me. It was just that the moment Jake opened his mouth, I became an afterthought. Halfway through the dinner, the private room door slammed open. Jake’s ex-fiancée, Lyla Sterling, stood in the doorway, reeking of booze. Her eyes locked onto Nora’s fingers intertwined with Jake’s, and a nasty sneer spread across her face. "New girlfriend?" She mocked. "Why don't you ask her who that guy sitting right next to her is?" She whipped around, pointing a sharp finger straight at me. "He's the real boyfriend, isn't he? The one she’s been dating for five years." The entire room went dead silent. Jake turned pale, instinctively trying to pull his hand away, but Nora tightened her grip first. "Wesley and I broke up a long time ago," she stated, her voice icy and clear, "Jake isn't a homewrecker." I froze. In two short sentences, she erased five years of history and rewrote me as the desperate, clingy ex. Jake glanced up at me, guilt flickering in his eyes. However, he didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers slowly closed back around hers. The hand I had personally shoved into his palm was now one he actively chose to hold. Jake’s mother was still skeptical. To put the rumors to rest once and for all, she demanded they take a couple’s photo to send to the family group chat. Nora handed me her phone. "Wesley, do you mind taking it for us?" When the screen lit up, the wallpaper was still a picture of us. It was from my birthday last year, her arms wrapped tightly around me at the beach. Back then, she told me she wanted to use that exact photo for our wedding display board. Now, through the camera lens, she was adjusting Jake’s jacket, pulling him close to her side. Jake looked stiff, but Nora whispered, "Lean in closer, or it won't look believable." He hesitated, then leaned his shoulder against hers. They both looked straight into my lens. I pressed the shutter. Using my girlfriend’s phone, I took the photo that made her relationship with my best friend official. Jake’s parents finally bought it. Lyla, however, looked at me with pure, pitiless amusement. "Guess some guys just can't take a hint after a breakup." She snickered. "They’re together now. Why are you even still tagging along?" Nora didn't defend me. She just leaned in and murmured, "Wesley, you should head home first. I need to stay and help smooth things over with Jake’s parents." Late that night, my phone buzzed with a text from her. [What I said at dinner was just to cover for him. You’re my real boyfriend, always. Wait for me to come home and explain everything.] I sat in the dark living room, waiting all night long. Nora never came back. Chapter 2 Two days later, I finally sent my reply to that heavily delayed email: [I accept the three-year on-site assignment.] I had only lent my girlfriend to Jake for a single night. Nora was the one who decided to lend him my status as her real boyfriend, too. When Lyla started relentlessly harassing Jake, Nora did not bother consulting me. She simply had Jake move into the apartment we shared. By the time I got home from work, the smart lock had already been programmed with his thumbprint. His sneakers were sitting in the hallway, his toiletries were lined up in our master bathroom, and all of my stuff, my pajamas, my razor, and my toothbrush had been banished to the guest bedroom. Jake hovered near the door of the main bedroom, keeping his voice low. "I should take the guest room," he murmured, "I mean, this is still your place with Wesley." Nora shook her head. "The main room has its own lock and a private bathroom. It’s safer for you." Then she turned her eyes to me. "Wesley, you're adaptable. You don't mind crashing in the guest room for a few days, do you?" I stared down at my belongings piled high in a suitcase, my mind flashing back to the day we first moved in together. Nora had wrapped her arms around me from behind, laughing as she whispered, "This is officially our home now." Now, with a casual remark about how adaptable I was, she was kicking me out of our home. Jake looked down at the pile of my displaced belongings. "Just for a few days," he repeated softly. Then, he rolled his luggage straight into our main bedroom. He hadn't brought any clean clothes, so Nora went to my closet and pulled out a brand-new set of men's pajamas. "Wear these for now," she said. My chest tightened as I recognized them instantly. They were the fifth-anniversary gift she had ordered for me. I had only seen the order confirmation on her phone, and I hadn't even gotten the chance to unbox it yet. Jake clearly recognized them, too. He held the neatly folded fabric in his hands, staring at me for a long beat. "Wesley, I'll buy you a new set to replace these, I promise." Yet, he didn't set them down. That night happened to be our five-year anniversary. Nora had made reservations at a nice restaurant a month in advance, where a small chocolate cake, my favorite, sat on the table. She had promised me that tonight would be strictly about us, with no mention of Jake. The moment our candle was lit, her phone buzzed. Jake’s voice came through the speaker, tight with suppressed panic. "Nora, she sent another threatening text. I know you’re out with Wesley right now, but I’m terrified to be here alone. Can you please come back?" He knew what today meant to us, yet he still called my girlfriend away the exact second our candle was lit. Nora stood up immediately. She sliced off the first piece of cake and pushed it toward me. "Give me thirty minutes," she said, "I just need to make sure he’s okay, then I’ll come right back." I waited from dusk until the restaurant staff started turning off the lights. The candle burned down to nothing, the whipped cream melted into a mess, and I didn't take a single bite. Nora never came back. It was past midnight when I finally walked through the front door of our apartment. The door to the master bedroom was cracked open. Jake was wearing my anniversary pajamas, sitting on the bed Nora and I had shared for three years. Nora stood behind him, gently drying his damp hair with a towel, her movements delicate as if she was afraid to hurt him. "I shouldn't have called you away when I knew it was your anniversary," Jake muttered, looking down, "You should go back and be with Wesley." Even as the words left his mouth, he reached up and grabbed Nora's hand. "It's just... Can you please not leave tonight?" he whispered, "Every time I think about you going back to him, the engagement party feels like a fever dream." Nora went silent for a moment, then squeezed his fingers back. "That night wasn't an act. Since we already crossed that line, I’m not going to treat you like a borrowed boyfriend anymore." Jake’s eyes turned red. "Then what about Wesley?" Nora didn't answer for a long time. Finally, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Wesley is stronger than you are. He'll understand." Just because I was stronger meant that the main bedroom belonged to Jake, our fifth anniversary belonged to Jake, and even the girl I had loved for five years could be handed over to Jake first. Jake didn't tell her to leave again. I didn't push the door open. I walked back into the guest room, opened my laptop, and signed the final electronic contract for the three-year assignment. Then I opened my profile settings and completely erased both Nora and Jake from my emergency contacts. While they were busy pushing me out of our bedroom, I began quietly packing myself out of their lives. Chapter 3 Early the next morning, Jake’s parents found out that he and Nora had slept together, and they showed up to force him back home. Jake actually agreed to go. His eyes were bloodshot as he muttered, "I can't keep hurting Wesley like this." Nora, however, refused to let him leave. That evening, I received a frantic call from our wedding planner. "Mr. Hart, I'm so sorry to bother you, but Miss Mitchell just bumped up the reservation for the venue you booked," she stammered, her voice panicking through the receiver. "And... The names on the main display screen were just changed to Nora and Jake. Was this agreed upon between you two?" Three months ago, Nora had told me how fast popular wedding venues booked up. Even though I hadn't officially proposed yet, she suggested locking in our dream setup early. White tulips, our custom entry track, the crystal floral archway, every single detail was handpicked by the two of us. Back then, she had wrapped her arms around me, whispering, "Come next May, I'm going to make you the happiest groom in the world." By the time I rushed to the hotel ballroom, the lights were already gleaming. The giant display screen, bright and clear, had swapped my name out for Jake’s. Nora and Jake spotted me the moment I walked in. Nora didn't cancel the proposal setup. Instead, she walked right over to me and whispered a quick explanation, "I'm just borrowing the venue for Jake for one night. His parents don't believe I'll take responsibility for him, and they're threatening to drag him home. You'll still get your wedding. Next year, I'll recreate this exact setup for you, down to every detail." I stared at the crystal archway I had personally picked out, a bitter laugh rising in my throat. The future I had waited five years for was, in her eyes, just a set design that could be copy-pasted whenever it was convenient. The moment Jake’s parents arrived, Nora dropped to one knee before Jake in front of them. She pulled out a men's ring box. At first, I assumed she had borrowed the wedding band I had chosen for myself, too. As the spotlight hit the metal, I saw it clearly: it was a custom ring meant exclusively for Jake. His initials were engraved on the inner band, and the sizing fit only him. Nora hadn't just handed over my wedding venue. She had already gone out of her way to order a unique ring custom-made for Jake. Jake hesitated, his voice raspy. "Is this just a show for my parents, or are you actually going to marry me?" Nora looked up into his eyes. "It's real. I'm going to marry you." Jake turned his head to glance at me. He knew damn well he was standing in my place, surrounded by my wedding, looking at the girl I had loved for five years. Yet after a beat of silence, he extended his left hand anyway. "Wesley, I'm sorry," he choked out, "I just... I don't want to be abandoned again." Nora slid the ring onto his ring finger. Jake closed his hand into a fist, making no move to take it off. When Nora leaned up to kiss him, he froze for a split second, but then his hands found her waist, pulling her close as he kissed her back. His guilt was real. His desire to have Nora was just as real. I didn't step in to ruin their moment. I simply turned around, found our wedding planner, and canceled every reservation and design plan under my name right in front of her. "Whose names end up on this package in the future has nothing to do with me anymore," I told her. That night, I packed up my passport, my laptop, and the rest of my belongings. Then I called the project director, Claire Donovan, to push my departure date forward. Nora thought she was just borrowing my wedding for a single night to calm down a guy who might run off. She had no idea I was leaving her behind, right alongside the stolen future that no longer had my name on it. Chapter 4 Lyla posted a photo of Jake wearing the ring online. In it, he had his arm wrapped tightly around Nora's waist, showcasing the custom band she had ordered for him. It didn't take long for internet sleuths to dig up that Nora and I had been dating for five years, or that I was the one who personally handed her over to play his fake girlfriend at the engagement party. The comment sections exploded. Everyone slammed Jake for being a backstabbing snake who stole his best friend’s girl. As the backlash escalated into a full-blown PR nightmare, Nora brought a crisis management team to deal with the fallout. She slid a printed statement across the table. The official script claimed that Nora and I had ended our relationship amicably long ago, and that I had voluntarily set them up at the party. It scrubbed Jake's image completely clean while rewriting me as a bitter, unhinged ex who was harassing them and defaming my best friend out of spite. Nora sat down across from me. "Once you sign this and record a short video statement, this whole mess goes away." I stared at her. "Why am I the one apologizing?" She pinched the bridge of her nose, her brow furrowing. "Jake isn't built for this kind of pressure. You know he's still fragile after his broken engagement. He can't handle the whole internet tearing him apart." There it was again. Just because Jake was fragile, I was expected to swallow every bit of humiliation and shame. To make the statement convincing, the PR team instructed me to wipe my social media of every single post related to Nora. Nora held out her hand. "Wesley, give me your phone." I unlocked the screen and handed it over. Over the past five years, every relationship post had been curated by her. Every caption had been written by her own hands using my phone. For our one-year anniversary, she posted: [Thank you for stepping into my life, Wesley.] For our three-year anniversary, she wrote: [When you know, you know. He's my forever.] Last year on my birthday, she shared a photo of our new apartment keys: [The spot for my future husband belongs to Wesley, and only Wesley.] Back then, Nora insisted our love shouldn't be kept in the dark. She wanted the whole world to know I was her boyfriend. Now, using that same phone, she systematically deleted five years of memories and promises, line by line, photo by photo. The very last photo was the one taken right before Jake’s engagement party. The three of us stood together, me in the center, my left arm around Nora and my right over Jake's shoulder. Nora stared at the screen for two seconds. Then she tapped crop, removed me from the frame, and saved a version containing only her and Jake. The PR staff handed me the final draft, and the livestream camera lit up. Following their script, I spoke directly into the lens, "Nora and I broke up a long time ago. At the engagement party, I was the one who voluntarily introduced her to Jake. He was never a homewrecker." The chat flooded instantly. Comments zipped past too fast to read, some relieved I came forward, others calling me toxic, many demanding I apologize to Jake. The PR rep leaned in, whispering, "Mr. Hart, just the last line." Jake finally spoke up, his voice heavy with restraint, "Stop. That's enough. We can't keep making Wesley take the fall for me." Nora didn't even look at him. She kept her eyes glued on me. "You're stronger than he is. Just one sentence. Say it, and this is all over." I raised my eyes to look at Jake. He was wearing my pajamas, sleeping in my master bedroom, wearing the custom ring Nora had bought for him. Yet his eyes were rimmed red, looking like the true victim in the room. I forced the words out, my voice barely above a whisper, "Jake, I'm sorry." The person who was actually betrayed sat in front of a live audience and apologized to the best friend who stabbed him in the back. The moment the stream ended, public opinion flipped instantly. Jake was no longer the snake who stole his best friend's girlfriend, he was the innocent victim of my malicious slander. I was officially the crazy ex who couldn't let go. Nora let out a long, visible sigh of relief. Jake, seemingly overwhelmed by emotion, turned and walked out of the press room. Nora sprinted after him immediately. Before disappearing down the hall, she turned back to throw a quick instruction over her shoulder. "Go home and wait for me, okay? Once I calm Jake down, I'll come back tonight, so we can talk about us." She had just personally deleted five years of our lives, forced me to claim she was just an ex, yet she remained utterly convinced that I would trot back to the apartment, sit in the guest room, and wait for her. I did go back. Only to grab my final piece of luggage. Late that night, Nora walked through the front door. The closet was empty. The guest room was scrubbed clean. My sneakers were gone from the hallway, and my toothbrush was removed from the holder. The only thing left on the dining table was the printed statement she had handed me earlier. Right underneath my signature, I had added a single handwritten sentence: [As of today, this statement is officially in effect.] At that exact second, Jake's phone lit up on his nightstand with a scheduled text message I had set hours ago: [I saw your post the day you said you didn't want to give her back.] [She's all yours now.]