In Love With His Bestfriend

RENEE. I clung to my husband, Seb’s arm, as we navigated the crowded room of the high-profile gala. The grand chandelier overhead bathed the space in warm light, illuminating the polished surfaces, designer gowns, and tailored tuxedos. As Seb paused to exchange pleasantries with a group of investors, I plastered on a demure smile, the kind expected of a wife in my position. Within me, exhaustion simmered. The sequined evening gown felt like a cage, and the heels I wore pinched my feet mercilessly. I wanted to peel it all away, to leave this place and curl up at home with a cup of tea and my favorite book. But voicing such a thought would be foolish—Seb wouldn’t appreciate it. This was his world, and by extension, mine. I stood silent beside him, an accessory while the men laughed and the other women, perfected, primed, and polished, shot judgments my way. "Seven years of marriage, yet no baby yet?" one, swathed in emerald green silk, softly said, though without doubt loud for me to hear. She leaned across to one woman, speaking with a loud whisper, "You don't think she may be barren?” My cheeks burned, but I kept my expression neutral. If only they knew. “Maybe they’re not trying,” another woman replied with a saccharine smile. “Though, with how much Seb works, I’d be surprised if they had the time.” Seb was oblivious, too engrossed in a conversation about market trends to notice the knives in their words. As if to punctuate my invisibility, Seb absently patted my hand. “Renee, why don’t you go find something to drink?” Dismissed. The embarrassment stung, and I quickly dropped my gaze. Without a word, I slipped away from his side and headed toward the drink station. At the bar, Kito Ranch, Seb's best man and COO of Ford Enterprises, stood nursing a glass of bourbon. It was hard to overlook his tall commanding figure in the midst of even powerfully built men. I hesitated a moment, but being alone seemed worse than an icy reception. Forcing a polite smile onto my lips, I reached for a glass of white wine and stepped toward him. “Hi, Kito,” I greeted softly. He turned his head slightly, his stormy blue eyes flickering over me before darting back to the crowd. He merely nodded in return. My smile wavered, but I pressed on. “How are you finding the gala?” He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he twirled his bourbon, the golden liquid reflecting the light. “It’s a gala,” he finally stated, his rich baritone voice emotionless. I tried to ignore the sting. “I guess it is. Do you come to many of these?” Kito’s eyes snapped to mine, icy and unreadable. He observed me for a lengthy moment before topping off his glass. Without saying anything further, he turned and left. I remained motionless, my grip tightening on the stem of my wineglass as a pain surged in my chest. I had made an effort, hadn’t I? Tried to be cordial, tried to form some kind of bridge between us for Seb’s sake. But Kito always made it clear he didn’t want that. An hour crawled by before Seb finally appeared. "You can head home now," he stated nonchalantly, his tone lacking any warmth. “I need to stay and finalize a deal.” I started to speak, but my voice faltered as I noticed where his gaze had wandered—to a woman in a seductive red dress positioned on the other side of the room. The woman smiled, a gradual, intentional curve of her lips, and Seb's eyes stayed fixed. I felt my stomach drop. I’d suspected Seb of having mistresses before, but this… this was blatant. “Of course,” I said, my voice hollow. I began to leave, my hand firmly holding onto my clutch. When I got to the door, I looked back over my shoulder. Seb was already crossing the room, the woman in red awaiting him like a cat ready to leap. Embarrassment burned through me. I was about to turn away when my gaze collided with Kito’s. He was standing near a corner, his piercing blue eyes fixed on me. His expression was unreadable, his handsome features as hard as stone. For a brief instant, neither of us budged. Then, without a hint of feeling, Kito turned his back. I gulped and stepped out the door, leaving behind the night—and the embarrassment. ———————- I awoke to the gentle light of the sun filtering through the drapes. The occurrences of last night lingered in my mind, but I set them aside and proceeded with my morning skincare regimen. Clad in a silk bathrobe, I descended the stairs for breakfast. In the dining room, Seb was already positioned at the head of the table, his regular place. He was browsing his iPad with a steaming cup of coffee next to him. His phone rested screen-up on the table, illuminating with a new alert. I halted as I sat facing him, my gaze catching a glimpse of the message before I could stop myself: Last night was amazing, looking forward to seeing you again this evening. Will send some nudes to spice up your day. Don't forget to get me that Birkin! xx. I swallowed hard and swiftly looked away, managing my facial expression. "Good morning," I replied gently, managing a smile. “Morning,” he muttered, his voice indifferent as he kept scrolling. The server set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast before me, and I grabbed my fork, even though my hunger had disappeared. The space was quiet with the sound of cutlery clinking and Seb’s sporadic phone notifications buzzing. After finishing his breakfast, Seb cleaned his mouth with a napkin and signaled to a nearby server. The man moved ahead, setting a smooth leather portfolio in front of me. “What’s this?” I asked, my brow furrowing as I looked at the file. Seb leaned back in his chair, his gaze finally meeting mine, but it was cold and detached. “Open it.” Hesitantly, I opened the file. The title in bold ‘Divorce Agreement’ stared back at me. My stomach knotted. "What is this?" I whispered. Seb exhaled, as if the conversation was an inconvenience. "This marriage hasn't turned out to be as advantageous as I expected. It's not beneficial for both of us. You can choose to do anything you wish now. Just sign it.” I gazed at him, my heart constricting. I stared at him, my chest tightening. “Seb, are you serious? After seven years…” He shrugged, his expression indifferent. “It’s better this way. No point dragging it out.” I held the file, my hand shaking. "You have already signed it?" I asked. "Mhm," he replied, taking a pen from his pocket and setting it on the table in front of me. “Sign it, Renee.” I wished to object, to struggle, but the words faded in my throat. What was there to fight for? A man who barely acknowledged me? A marriage that had become a hollow shell? I averted my eyes, fighting back tears, and grabbed the pen. My hand trembled as I scribbled my name on the dotted line. Seb took the file, nodded as if this were a simple business transaction, and stood. "You have 48 hours to relocate." With that, he pivoted on his heel and exited the house, the noise of the front door shutting behind him reverberating in the heavy silence. I remained motionless, staring at the seat he had just left.