court case #5: i kissed my best friends ex

Your Honour, members of the jury, I stand before you accused of something simple and unforgivable.

I kissed my best friend’s ex.

I should start from the beginning, but I guess that line already tells you how messy this is.

He and I have been friends for almost all our lives. I have memories without him, but they pale in comparison to the memories I have with him. We’ve been in each other’s lives through significant moments, growing alongside one another in ways that shaped who we are today.

She broke up with him.

I won’t lie to you, I didn’t have strong feelings about it. I didn’t like seeing him down in the dumps, but I wasn’t heartbroken on his behalf either. More than anything, I just wanted to see him get back on his feet. I wanted to see him happy again.

So I made that my mission.

I was there for him. We talked, we laughed, we yapped about nothing and everything. I sent him tweets, reels, random videos. We stayed on the phone, had long conversations about life that carefully avoided mentioning her. The goal was simple: remind him that life goes on, even after losing the person you thought you would spend it with.

And it worked.

He slowly came back to himself. He became more present in conversations and interactions. Heartache doesn’t disappear overnight, but I’d like to believe I played some role in how quickly he managed to stand up again.

Eventually, things felt normal.

Then one day I saw her.

I should tell you, I never hated her. Though I never liked her either. My feelings toward her were mostly apathetic. She was his partner, nothing more. Whenever we crossed paths, our interactions were calm and simple. There was no friendship between us, but there was a quiet understanding that we both played important roles in his life.

If I made him happy and she made him happy, that was enough.

One evening I was at a friend’s house for a hangout. My best friend wasn’t there. It was a different friend group. And at some point during the night, she walked in with her own group of friends.

I didn’t even know we had mutuals.

After a while I noticed her and thought, isn’t that…? And yes, it was her. But I ignored it. I had no reason to interact with her.

Still, throughout the evening I kept feeling like someone was watching me.

Every time I looked around, I caught her gaze. Sometimes she’d quickly look away. Sometimes she held eye contact for a second longer. Once or twice it looked like she was about to walk over before stopping herself.

I made sure not to encourage any of it.

Eventually her group drifted closer to where mine was sitting, and interacting became inevitable. She said hi. I said hi back.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m good. Hope you’re having a nice time,” I replied, already preparing to end the conversation.

Instead, she stepped closer. Too close. She leaned in slightly and whispered, “I hope you’re not mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” I asked.

“About the breakup.”

I answered as calmly as I could. “Oh no, I don’t really care. I’m fine.”

She nodded, though I couldn’t quite read her expression.

Then she looked at me and said, “I know your secret.”

That caught my attention.

“My secret?” I asked. “What secret?”

She laughed. “Yeah. I know what you want.”

I had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. It was such an absurd statement that the reaction almost slipped out of me immediately.

But I’ve been told before that I can lead people astray if I want to.

So I leaned into it.

“Oh really?” I asked. She nodded

“So what do I want?” At this, she gestured meekly at herself.

“You?” I asked. She smiled and nodded. “You used to look at me when we were together.”

“Well,” I said, “that’s news to me.”

Then she said something even stranger.

“I’ll let you have me.”

I laughed softly this time. “Darling, I don’t want you.”

“Prove it,” she said.

“How?” I asked.

“By kissing me,” she replied. “Then walk away like I don’t matter.”

At this point you’re probably thinking there’s no way I was dumb enough to do that.

But I did.

And I’ll tell you why.

Because I do have a secret.

It’s just not the one she thought.

I don’t want her. I have never wanted her. I will never want her.

But she had something I wanted.

She had it in a way I never will.

So when I placed my palm on her neck, my thumb tracing the line of her throat, I imagined it was him.

And so I kissed her.

I kissed her with all the pent-up desire I carried for the best friend who was probably dozing off at home, waiting for me to tell him about this party.

I kissed her with the aching heart of one who will never get what they want. With the pain of a heart resigned to bear the weight of love alone.

Then I pulled away and walked off.

If she tried to get my attention afterward, I would never know. If I had my way, it would be the last time she ever saw me.

I wish I hadn’t done it.

I will tell him. I just don’t know how he’s going to take it.

But I wish I hadn’t done it.

Can you blame me?

For a moment — for one brief moment — it was him I kissed.

And that’s the closest I’ll ever get to having him.

So go on then.

Deliver your verdict.

Buy me a coffee or show me love!