When Friendship Marries Love

Confiding in a Friend

Laura

The cafeteria felt colder than usual, the fluorescent lights casting an almost clinical glow over the small space. I sat across from Ethan, the one person at the hospital I trusted enough to talk to about… well, anything. He had this easy, unassuming way about him, like he could tell when someone needed to vent and would wait patiently until they were ready.

Ethan pushed a steaming cup of coffee toward me. “You look like you could use this more than me,” he said, his voice light but concerned.

I forced a weak smile, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “Thanks.”

The mug was warm, but it didn’t reach my fingers. Nothing did lately.

I stared at my coffee like it might offer me permission. The truth wasn’t hard to say. It was hard to believe. Hard to hear from my own mouth.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with the kind of quiet attentiveness that made it hard to hide anything. “Alright, spill. What’s eating at you?”

I hesitated, staring into my coffee. The words were lodged in my throat, a knot of frustration, sadness, and something I couldn’t quite name. Finally, I sighed. “It’s David.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Your husband?”

I nodded, the word feeling foreign on my tongue even though it had been weeks since we’d gotten married. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“What happened?”

Where did I even begin? I rubbed my temples, trying to sort through the mess of emotions swirling in my head. “It’s everything, Ethan. It’s like… he’s not really here, you know? Physically, sure, but emotionally? He’s a million miles away.”

Ethan didn’t say anything, just waited for me to continue.

“The first time I noticed it was the morning after our first night together,” I said, my voice faltering slightly. “He left before I even woke up. No goodbye, no explanation. Just a note saying he wouldn’t be home for the week. Turns out he spent that week at his old apartment, reading some diary and… drinking.”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “Did you call him out on it?”

“No,” I admitted, shame creeping into my voice. “I didn’t know how. I thought, maybe he just needed space. But then there was this other time… I found the diary. It was pink, tucked into a drawer in his study. I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just—”

Ethan raised a hand to stop me. “You don’t have to explain. What happened?”

I swallowed hard, the memory still stinging. “He caught me holding it. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain before snapping at me. Said it was personal and I had no right to touch it. I felt… humiliated. Like I’d crossed some invisible line I didn’t even know existed.”

Ethan leaned forward, his voice soft. “That’s rough, Laura. Really rough.”

I nodded, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “It’s not just that. The other night, he came to pick me up from work and saw us talking—me and you. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was… angry. Possessive, almost. And then, last week, he forgot our first-month celebration. I made dinner, lit candles, everything. But he didn’t show up until late, and by then, I’d fallen asleep on the couch. He didn’t even mention it the next day.”

Ethan frowned. “Laura, that’s… a lot. Have you talked to him about any of this?”

“No,” I said again, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how. He’s so closed off, like he’s carrying this weight he refuses to share with me. And I don’t want to push him away even more by bringing it up.”

“Do you love him?” Ethan asked gently.

I hesitated, the question hitting me harder than I expected. “I think I do,” I admitted. “Or at least, I think I could. But I don’t know if he’ll ever feel the same way. He told me from the start that this wasn’t about love, and I thought I was okay with that. But now…”

“You want more,” Ethan finished for me.

I nodded, tears spilling over. “I want to feel like I matter to him. Like I’m not just someone he married out of convenience.”

Ethan reached across the table, his hand resting on mine. “You do matter, Laura. Whether he sees it or not, you’re worth more than just being someone’s second choice.”

His kindness only made the tears flow faster, and I quickly wiped them away. “Thanks, Ethan. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Take it one day at a time,” he said. “And don’t lose yourself trying to make someone else happy. You deserve more than that.”

I nodded, forcing a small smile. “I’ll try.”

But as I walked back to my shift, Ethan’s words echoed in my mind. You deserve more.

Did I?

Or was I just fooling myself into believing that David could ever love me the way I wanted him to?

Maybe he would never love me.

Maybe that’s not the tragedy.

Maybe the real tragedy is—I kept hoping he would.