My Wife, My Best Buddy, and Their Family

A viral post pops up on my feed. "Did you betray anyone?" One reply underneath catches my attention. "My best friend, I guess. But honestly, it's not my fault. His girlfriend is exactly my type. The moment he introduced me to her, I fell for her. "At our graduation party, I got them both wasted and made my move on her. That lucky bastard had no idea how good he had it. "Later, I lied and told him I wanted to go abroad. By then, they were already married, but the truth was, I was only a state away, staying with his wife while she was pregnant with my child. "His wife comes to see us all the time now. The three of us are so happy together. "Technically speaking, I'm not the other man. The marriage certificate between his wife and me is the real one. We just never had a wedding. "There's nothing wrong with fighting for love. Don't give up just because the person you like is already taken!" Attached to the comment is a photo of a man and woman holding hands, their fingers intertwined. The faint scar on her wrist gives her away. The woman in that photo is my wife, Clara Lowden. Chapter 1 I stared at the photo on the screen. No faces were visible, only a pair of hands tightly intertwined. The man had long, slender fingers with well-defined knuckles, while the woman's fingers were adorned with delicately manicured nails. But on the inside of the woman's wrist was a faint, thin raised scar, looking like a light-colored centipede lying beneath her skin. Most people probably wouldn't have noticed such a tiny detail, but there was no way I could mistake it. It was the mark left behind from the day I pulled her back from the brink of death. Clara Lowden and I were childhood sweethearts. We were in the same class from elementary school through high school. Back then, she wasn't the sophisticated and capable career woman she had become later. She used to be gloomy, withdrawn, and timid, like someone who had spent years hiding from the world. She always kept her head down, her bangs falling over her eyes, and barely spoke to anyone. The girls in our class excluded her and even bullied her. I was the only one who was willing to stand by her and be her friend. When someone threw her textbooks into the trash, I would pick them up for her. When she was hungry, I would share my sandwich with her. In eighth grade, her parents went through a bitter divorce. Her hot-tempered father took out his anger on her, beating and kicking her whenever he lost control. Under the constant abuse, Clara developed severe depression. I still remember that stormy afternoon. I was worried about her, so I climbed over the wall into her family's yard to find her. Through the first-floor bathroom window, I saw a horrifying sight. Clara was lying in the bathtub, the water around her stained a shocking red. There was a deep cut on her wrist from a box cutter. I smashed the window, rushed inside, and wrapped a towel around her wrist to stop the bleeding. Lying in the hospital bed, Clara's face was pale as a sheet. She looked at me with hollow eyes and asked, "Gavin, will you leave me?" I hugged her, tears welling in my eyes, and swore, "Clara, I'll never leave you." From that day on, I became the only light in her life. I went to therapy sessions with her, made sure she took her medication, and stayed by her side through countless nights when she struggled with thoughts of ending her life. That scar was a mark of what her depression had put her through, but it was also a symbol of the bond we had forged through life and death. After graduating from high school, we naturally got together. Even though we attended different colleges because we chose different majors, those four years never weakened our relationship. We got married after graduation and have been together for four years ever since. I thought she loved me deeply. Whenever my stomach problems acted up, she would take care of me with the utmost care. Even the slightest frown from me would leave her worried for hours. I had always believed I was the happiest man alive, until I saw that photo on Instagram. A familiar scar in the image stopped me cold. The post came with a shocking confession. "My best friend's wife is pregnant with my child." Chapter 2 I was shaking all over, and I had bitten my lower lip so hard I could taste blood. With trembling hands, I tapped on the poster's profile. It loaded for a brief moment before a notification popped up. "You cannot view this user's profile due to their privacy settings." He had blocked my account. The username was "Gavster". I knew it was Gavin Johnson, my best friend. It was the nickname his family used for him. We had been college roommates for four years and were like brothers; we were close enough to share almost anything. Besides Clara, he was the person I trusted most. I introduced her to him in freshman year. I never imagined that it would be the biggest mistake of my life. Forcing myself to calm down, I closed the app, switched to a burner account I had never used before, and opened his profile again. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of posts. Each one felt like another deliberate cut, tearing me apart piece by piece. "The baby kicked today. I felt her belly, and she got teary-eyed, saying this is the proof of our love." The photo showed two hands resting on a rounded pregnant belly. The woman's wrist bore that same faint scar. "Our first trip as a family of three. As long as she's by my side, I'm not afraid of anything." The photo showed a sunny beach. A little girl, no more than two or three years old, was held in the man's arms. Beside him stood a woman with only the lower half of her face and her gentle smile visible. I recognized that jawline and that smile immediately. I had kissed those lips countless times. They were as familiar to me as my own reflection. I couldn't help but keep scrolling Gavin's posts. Every photo and every caption lined up perfectly with my memories, exposing the truth behind all her lies. Three years ago, during the Labor Day holiday, Clara told me she had to spend several months out of town overseeing a project. In reality, she had been staying in the neighboring state with Gavin while she waited to give birth to his child. On my birthday two years ago, she told me her flight had been delayed, and she couldn't make it home on time. The truth was, Gavin had taken their daughter to the hospital because she had a high fever, and Clara had stayed with them there all night. Last month, on our wedding anniversary, she gave me a Rolex. But behind my back, she bought Gavin a Porsche and posted, "A reward for my greatest hero." The post that disturbed me the most was this. "The marriage certificate his wife and I have is the real one." I immediately opened the drawer and pulled out the marriage certificate Clara and I had kept. It was an official record of our marriage, signed by both of us. Beside it was our wedding photo, the two of us smiling like we had a future together. I couldn't believe she would go that far to deceive me. Then I remembered our college graduation party. Everyone was celebrating that night, and Gavin kept pushing drinks on me. I'd never been able to hold my liquor, so after just a few drinks, everything went black. When I woke up the next morning, I was in a hotel room with a splitting headache. Clara was sitting beside the bed, her eyes bloodshot as she gripped my hand tightly and said, "Tom… I drank too much last night. I didn't take good care of you. I'm so sorry." At that time, I thought she was blaming herself for not stopping me from drinking so much. But looking back, I realized that apology had nothing to do with my drunken state. She had been apologizing because while I lay unconscious that night, she was sleeping with my best friend in the room next door. Not long after that, Gavin came to me with tears welling in his eyes, saying he had been dumped and wanted to go abroad to get his mind off things. Like a fool, I even went to the airport to see him off, hugging him goodbye with a lump in my throat and telling him to take care of himself. But he had never left the country. He'd been living in the neighboring state, raising the child he had with Clara and enjoying her love and care. All the while, he also shamelessly mocked me online—the husband who had no idea he was being betrayed. Chapter 3 My stomach churned. I rushed to the bathroom, clung to the toilet, and started retching violently. Nothing came out except a mouthful of bitter bile. I looked at myself in the mirror—my eyes bloodshot, my face deathly pale—and suddenly felt that the peace and happiness I'd had over the past four years were nothing more than a bubble. It had looked so dazzling and almost too perfect to be real. But now that it had burst, there was nothing left but emptiness. I didn't cry. My anger and shock left no room for tears. I picked up my phone again and opened Gavin's account. I was looking for clues in the photos where no one's face was visible. However, in one photo, a half-open window offered a faint glimpse of the top of a tower outside. It was the Starwave TV Tower, Hilburg's most recognizable landmark. In another photo, the corner of a distinctive chain coffee shop sign could be seen. And another photo captured the lion statues at the entrance of a residential complex. In less than half an hour, I had tracked Gavin down to the upscale gated community of Camellia Woods in Hilburg, less than two miles from a major theme park. Without hesitation, I changed into comfortable sportswear, grabbed my car keys along with all my documents, and walked into the garage. The moment I started the engine, I felt strangely calm and focused. I didn't want to confront them over the phone or listen to more of their lies and excuses; I had to see it for myself. I wanted to see how the woman I had fought so hard to save and the friend I had trusted with all my life could betray me behind my back, crush my dignity, and build a happy family of their own. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. More than a decade of memories flashed through my mind like scenes from a movie. When Clara was 16, her father had assaulted her until her head bled. She hid in my guest room, clutching my sleeve helplessly and whispering, "Tom, you're all I have." At 22, when she accepted my proposal and slipped the engagement ring onto her finger, tears shimmered in her eyes. She had said, "Gavin, I'll love you with everything I have for the rest of my life." Just last week, while she was blow-drying my hair, she smiled and said, "Honey, let's have a baby. A little boy who looks just like you." I also recalled memories with Gavin, who had once pounded his chest in our college dorm and told me, "Tom, if anyone ever tries to mess with you, I'll beat them up!" He was also the one who hugged me at the airport before he supposedly left the country, his eyes red with emotion, saying, "Tom, promise me you'll be happy." Those memories blended, eventually settling on that photo of two hands clasped together in the post and that devastating line beneath it. "She comes to see us all the time now. The three of us are so happy together." Clara, I never knew you were this good at pretending. I arrived at the theme park and found a place nearby to settle in, waiting for my chance. The next morning, Gavin posted, "Good morning! Off to the theme park! Dressed my little sweetheart in the cutest bunny outfit today!" He had taken the selfie from the passenger seat, and I immediately recognized the familiar interior of Clara's black Maybach. I waited at the entrance of the theme park, ready to catch them when they arrived. Chapter 4 "Mommy! I want to ride the carousel!" A child's sweet, clear voice called out from behind me. "Okay, sweetie. I'll do whatever you want with you." The woman's soft, affectionate voice felt like a knife twisting in my heart. It was Clara. Even in the middle of a noisy crowd, I could never mistake her voice. Just a few gentle words to a child, and I knew it was her. I turned around stiffly. Through the bustling crowd, I saw them standing about 30 feet away. It was a picture-perfect family scene, which made it all the more painful to look at. Clara was wearing a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the scar on her wrist. She gazed down at the little girl in a bunny outfit, who couldn't have been older than three, her face glowing with a warm, motherly smile. Gavin stood beside her in a light blue casual shirt, gently wiping the little girl's sweat with a tissue. The way he looked at Clara was full of affection and devotion. A handsome man, a beautiful woman, and an adorable child. Anyone who saw the three of them standing together would agree they were a perfect, happy family. I froze in place as the noise around me faded away. I thought I was prepared for this, since I had already endured the worst of the pain on the drive over, replaying everything in my head. But seeing the brutal truth with my own eyes, I finally understood the unbearable pain of being betrayed by the people I loved and trusted most. It felt as if someone had reached into my chest, crushed my heart in their hands, and stuffed the broken pieces back inside. I kept my distance and followed them, forcing myself to watch the three of them spend the entire day together as a happy family until I went numb. In the afternoon, the little girl wanted to have ice cream, so Clara went to stand in line to buy some. Gavin waited with the child under the shade of a tree. The girl held a small red ball, idly bouncing it against the ground. Suddenly, the ball slipped from her hand and rolled toward me. Gavin was looking down at his phone and didn't notice it. The ball stopped right by my feet. The girl ran over to me, slightly out of breath. She was truly a lovely child. Her eyes and brows looked so much like Clara's, while her nose and mouth resembled Gavin's. She looked up at me with her big, innocent eyes and asked in a sweet voice, "Hi, can I have my ball back?" I took a deep breath, bent down to pick up the ball, and handed it to her. "Thank you!" She happily took the ball and gave me a bright smile. "Naomi! Where are you?" Under the tree, Gavin finally realized the child was missing and looked around frantically. When his eyes swept over the crowd and landed on his daughter, he let out a sigh of relief. Then his gaze fell on me, who was crouching in front of the girl. I slowly stood up, took off my sunglasses, and calmly met his eyes.