Caught Between My Fiancee And His Ex Best Friend

Chapter 7

Amaya

I stepped into Adrian’s apartment that evening carrying a small bouquet of fresh flowers I’d picked up on the way.

Adrian greeted me at the door with that warm, familiar hug that always made me feel anchored. “Hey, baby. You look beautiful tonight,” he said, kissing my forehead before taking the flowers. His hazel eyes searched mine for a moment, but he didn’t press. Instead, he led me into the kitchen where he’d already started prepping

ingredients… chicken, vegetables, and rice.

We fell into our usual rhythm, chopping and stirring side by side.

As we plated the food and moved to the small dining table by the window, the mood shifted naturally. The candlelight flickered softly between us, casting gentle shadows. I took a bite of the seasoned chicken, savoring the flavors we’d created together, then set my fork down. My heart beat a little faster. It was time

.

“Adrian, I ran into someone from my past last night,” I began, keeping my voice steady but soft. “Lila. My old college best friend. We lost touch for years, but there she was at the gallery, it turns out it was her art show.”

He looked up, genuinely interested, leaning back in his chair with that attentive expression I loved. “Lila? The artist you've mentioned a few times? That’s great, babe. How was catching up?”

I smiled, but it was tinged with nervousness. “It was… really good. We talked for hours.”

Adrian reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you reconnected. You deserve friends who get you. What’s she like now?”

This was the part that made my stomach flutter. I took a breath. “She’s still bold, passionate about her art. But being around her brought back a lot of memories from school. Things people used to say about us.” I laughed lightly, trying to keep it casual, but my cheeks warmed. “Back then, a lot of our friends and even some professors suspected we were more than just best friends. Like… lesbian partners. We were inseparable, sharing clothes, staying up all night talking, rumors flew. Some people teased us about it, calling us the campus couple.”

Adrian’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression stayed open, curious rather than upset. He didn’t pull his hand away. “Wow. I didn’t know that part of your story. Does it bother you now, looking back?”

“Not really,” I said honestly, meeting his gaze. “It was a part of figuring myself out. Lila and I explored that side of things once, but it was more about trust and curiosity than anything definitive. She’s always been someone who makes me feel seen in a different way… free, creative, unafraid of the messy parts of life. Talking to her made me reflect on us. On how good we are together, but also how I sometimes worry we’re slipping into routine. Work, dinner, sleep… repeat. I love what we have, Adrian. I do. But hearing about her adventures stirred something in me. A restlessness I thought I’d outgrown.”

He was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he nodded slowly. “I get that. I’ve felt it too, you know. The consulting world is relentless… meetings, deadlines, always chasing the next client. Sometimes I wonder if I’m giving you enough of me. Enough excitement.” His thumb stroked the back of my hand. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide any part of yourself, Amaya. Not the college stories, not the pull toward old friends. If reconnecting with Lila brings you joy, I support that. Just… talk to me about it. No secrets.”

His words eased some of the tension in my chest. We delved deeper then, the food cooling slightly as we prioritized the conversation. He opened up about his own vulnerabilities—how the pressure of building his firm made him fear he was becoming like his father, distant and work-obsessed. I shared my fears of losing spontaneity, of waking up one day and realizing I’d played it too safe, never fully embracing the chaotic, artistic side of myself that Lila represented. We talked about the future, maybe traveling more together, me picking up a creative hobby again, him setting firmer boundaries at work. It felt intimate in a way that went beyond our physical connection… raw, honest, strengthening the foundation we’d built.

Midway through, his phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at it but didn’t pick up, silencing it with a quick swipe. “Not important,” he murmured, turning back to me with a smile. We continued talking, laughing about old memories I shared from college, him recounting a funny client mishap that had us both in stitches.

A few minutes later, the phone rang again, vibrating insistently against the wood. Adrian checked the screen, his brow furrowing slightly, but again he declined the call and set it face-down. “Whoever it is can wait,” he said firmly, reaching for my hand once more. “This.. us talking like this… is what matters tonight.”

I appreciated the gesture, feeling cherished. The ignored calls added a subtle undercurrent. Part of me wondered who was trying to reach him so persistently, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth between us. We finished dinner, cleared the plates together, and moved to the couch, bodies close but the moment tender rather than heated. His arm draped around my shoulders as I leaned into him, the conversation winding down into comfortable silence punctuated by soft affirmations.

“I love you, Amaya,” he whispered against my hair. “All of you, the steady parts, the restless ones, the history with Lila. We’ll figure out how to keep the spark alive. Together.”

“I love you too,” I replied, tilting my head up for a gentle kiss. It lingered sweetly, full of promise.

As we settled in, my own phone lit up on the coffee table with a new message notification. I reached for it casually, expecting maybe a work email. But the screen showed Lila’s name. My heart stuttered as I read the text.

Lila: Tonight was amazing. Can’t stop thinking about our talk… and you. My studio is open tomorrow if you want to see more of my new pieces. Bring that open heart of yours. Miss you already.

Before I could process it fully, Adrian’s phone rang a third time. This time he sighed, glancing at the screen.

His expression shifted. “It's a business call,” he said quietly, finally answering. “Hey man, what’s up? … Yeah, she’s here. Wait—slow down. What do you mean you need to talk about the project tonight?”