**Between Two Fires**
Ive always believed the best way to survive betrayal is to drown it in tearsright here, right now, so theres nothing left to cry over later. Even better if you can cry on the shoulder of someone who truly understands.
For nearly an hour, that shoulder had belonged to Ethan. My husbandsnow ex-husbandsbest friend.
Emily, please dont cry, Ethan murmured, his voice quiet and weary. His hand moved in slow circles on my back, and it only made me sob harder.
Why would he do this to me? I choked out, wiping my face with the back of my hand. What did I do wrong? Am I ugly? Be honest!
Youre the most beautiful woman alive. Daniels just blind.
He said it so earnestly I almost believed himjust for a second. Then I showed him the screenshot. The one Id found on Daniels phone. Some girl named Charlotte had written, *When are you finally going to dump that bore?* And the man whod sworn eternal love to me at the altar had replied, *Shed fall apart without me. I feel sorry for her.*
*Sorry.* That one word erased everythingour past, every whispered *I love you*, every plan wed made. Our marriage had been built on pity.
I buried my face in my hands. Humiliation burned through me.
Ethan stayed silent. Unlike Daniel, whod fill any quiet with a hundred meaningless words, he knew when to say nothing. He was the only person in this city I could call in a moment like this. I knew he wouldnt pity me, wouldnt coddle me, wouldnt lecture me. That was exactly what I needed.
Hed arrived within twenty minutes. Listened to my hysterics without interrupting, handed me a glass of water, and let me cry into his jacket. Then he just sat there, his silence stronger than any words.
He *pities* me, can you believe it? I hiccupped for the hundredth time.
Ethan still didnt answer. Just clenched his fists and stared out the window. In his restraint, there was more understanding than in a million pretty speeches.
***
I met Daniel in my hometown of York, at an exhibition for local artists. Id ducked in to escape the rain and saw himarguing passionately with a friend in front of a grim abstract painting.
This isnt art, its a diagnosis! he ranted. Theres no emotion, no thoughtjust shock value!
Some impulse made me interrupt.
Isnt shock an emotion too? Art doesnt have to be pretty. It just has to be honest.
Daniel turned, and the fire in his storm-grey eyes softened into curiosity. So you believe art should be truth, no matter how bitter?
We talked for three hours. He was a hurricanea whirlwind of ideas, jokes, and boundless enthusiasm. That passion, that hunger for life, was what drew me in. He could argue about 1970s cinema until he was hoarse, then drag me onto a rooftop to watch raindrops bend light in the puddles below. With him, I never felt bored. He made me feel alive, fascinating, adored. He saw not me, but some dazzling version of meand I did everything to live up to it.
When he proposed two months later, asking me to move to Brighton and marry him, I said yes without hesitation. Foolish little moth, I flew straight into his flame.
I remember when he introduced me to his best friend.
Meet Ethanmy brother, my guardian angel. And this is Emily, the love of my life! Daniel beamed like a child.
Ethan shook my hand, his gaze awkward? Wary? I didnt understand then. He seemed quiet, seriousnothing like my loud, vibrant Daniel. But later, we found common ground: we both adored Terry Goodkinds books and agreed the best coffee came from tiny, unassuming cafés, not chains.
In Brighton, I realised Ethan was a safe harbour. Daniel was a stormexhilarating, but exhausting. Ethan knew how to be still. Hed listen for hours as I talked about books or vented about adjusting to a new city. Never interrupted, never tried to impressjust nodded and sometimes asked the perfect question, proving he truly heard me.
With him, I felt calm. Safe. Something I never felt with my husband, whoas time provedloved only himself.
***
I cant pretend I didnt suspect the cheating. I ignored the signslate work meetings, his phone always face-down, unfamiliar perfume. It was obvious. But he lied so convincingly. I *wanted* to believe. Daniel loved me, didnt he? The man whod enchanted me at that exhibition couldnt be a liar.
More and more, I found myself preferring Ethans company. He didnt shower me with compliments, but he listened. Really listened. Once, the three of us were at a picnic. I mentioned wanting to paint a series based on Yorkshire folklore.
Sounds like a dull documentary, Daniel yawned.
Ethan leaned forward. Which legend would you start with?
We talked for half an hour, lost in details, while Daniel played games on his phone. A treacherous thought flickered: *This is who Id want to share my ordinary days with.*
Six months later, I caught Daniel flirting in his messages. He brushed it off*just an old school friend, weve always joked like this.* I believed him. He couldnt lie that well, could he?
Then I found the texts with Charlotte. The pain was humiliating, bitter. But the worst wasnt the affair. It was the pity.
Ethan, of course, had known all along. Theyd been friends since childhood. Daniel collected conquestsfalling in love (or making others fall for him) was as natural as breathing. Ethan was restrained, never understood itbut never judged. Until Daniel married me.
I hadnt known Ethan tried to talk sense into him. That theyd even fought over me. Daniel never told mejust sneered once, *Ethans soft on you. Poor sods jealous.* Id dismissed it. *No, hes just a friend. Too decent for that.*
Now I sat on Ethans sofa, my life in shards, and he was the only one left.
Daniel wont change, Ethan said quietly, pulling me from my thoughts. His voice was firm. Hes not a bad person. Just a child who wants every toy and doesnt treasure the one he has.
Im not a toy.
No. Youre an entire universe. He faltered, looking down.
The decision came on its own.
I should go back to York. Stay with my parents.
Ethan sighed. Something flickered in his eyespain? Hesitation?
Yes, he finally said. Youll find peace there.
Will you drive me?
He couldve refused. Had work, responsibilities. But he just nodded. Pack your things. Ill help.
***
Six months in York passed like one long, foggy day. Daniel agreed to the divorce instantlyalmost relieved. I tried to heal, but my parents pity only made it worse.
Ethan called every day. At first, just checking in. Soon, our talks were as easy and deep as before. We spoke of everythingexcept one man. Eventually, I realised I waited for his calls more than I ever had for Daniels.
Then one day, I looked out the window and saw his car. He hadnt warned me.
My heart leapt. I ran outside.
Ethan? Whats wrong?
He stepped out, looking more nervous than Id ever seen him.
Nothings wrong. Everythings finally right.
He moved closer, eyes locked on mine.
Emily, Im not good with words. Cant paint pretty pictures or put on a show. But Ive loved you all this time. Silently. Because you were my best friends wife, and saying so wouldve been betrayal. But now Now Im free to tell you. Im not asking for anything. Just needed you to know.
He looked so vulnerable. Just as lost as Id been that night hed held me. And in his eyes, I saw what Id missed for yearsnot pity. Respect. And love, real and boundless.
Memories rushed backevery conversation, every silent moment of support, every glance full of understanding. Hed valued my thoughts, seen *me*not just Daniels wife.
I looked at this quiet, steady man whod always been there and knew my heart had already chosen.
Ethan, lets try.
Hope lit his eyes. You mean it? Youll marry me?
Time stopped. The pain faded. Everything before this moment felt like a long road leading to himto the man who loved me not for my shine, but for my soul. Silently. Faithfully.
Yes, I whispered, tears streamingdifferent tears now. Yes, Ethan. Of course.
He didnt speak. Just pulled a small box from his pocket. Inside was a worn key.
To my flat. *Our* flat, if you want. I I always carried it. Like a lucky charm.
He pulled me into his arms, and his embrace was the strongest, safest place in the world.
