Dear Diary,
I never meant for it to happen, but it did. This morning I set a plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen table and sat opposite Max. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, bathing everything in a soft golden hue. I propped my chin on my hand and gave him a small smile.
Max looked up from his phone.
Is she cool? What drew you to her? he asked.
Everyone loves her! I replied, suddenly animated. We chatted yesterday and discovered we have so much in common. Shes into climbing too, goes to the same gym I used to frequent, and reads the same books. Its as if someone made a copy of me and placed her in the office.
Max chuckled and reached for his coffee.
Thats brilliant. Youve needed a work friend for ages.
Exactly! I took a fork but didnt eat. I wanted to keep talking. She also loves hiking. Weve already pencilled in a trip for next month. She talks so honestly, without any of the usual pretence.
Max nodded, taking a bite of his toast.
Sounds great. Can you introduce us?
Of course. How about a dinner this weekend? Ill whip up something tasty and we can all catch up.
Sure, Max said easily. Why not?
I smiled, turned back to the eggs, and felt a swell of contentment. I had a career I loved, a wonderful boyfriend of three years, and now a new friend who clicked instantly. Life felt almost perfect.
Two weeks later I hosted the dinner at my flat in Manchester. I scrubbed every surface until it shone, then baked Maxs favourite rosemary chicken. Claire arrived with a bouquet of tulips and a cake.
Poppy, your place is so cosy! she exclaimed, looking around. I could stay here forever.
I laughed and took the flowers.
This is Max, and this is Claire, I said, introducing them.
Max extended his hand, smiling. Pleasure. Poppy has told me so much about you, I feel like Ive known you forever.
The feelings mutual, Claire replied, shaking his hand. She always says youre the most patient man alive.
Well, you need patience with someone as energetic as you, Max winked at me. Otherwise you wont survive.
The evening unfolded beautifully. Max and Claire discovered a shared love for classic films and 70s rock, debating which movies were the best. I sat between them, watching their banter, a grin never leaving my face. My two favourite people were becoming friends, and I could not have been happier.
After that night we started meeting up as a triocinema outings, gallery visits, weekend hikes. Max even began suggesting that we invite Claire more often; with her, boredom was impossible.
I was delighted, until small changes began to surface. Max started staying later at work, whereas before he always left on time. He texted less during the day and called even less without a reason. When I tried to discuss future plansbuying a house, weddinghis replies grew short and evasive, as if the topics weighed on him.
Claires behaviour shifted too. Occasionally I caught her looking at me with a quick, assessing glance, then quickly smoothing it over with a smile before changing the subject.
One evening I was in the living room while Max was cooking. His phone, lying on the table, flashed a new message. Instinctively I glanced at it. It was from Claire, timestamped just before midnight: Thanks for today.
My heart clenched. I set the phone down, stared at the wall, and wondered what that meant. Had they met earlier? Was it workrelated? Max had told me hed been held up at the office. I tried to convince myself it was nothing, that they were just good friends, that I was being paranoid. Yet a sour feeling lingered.
In March the three of us booked a cottage by a lake in the Lake District. Id been looking forward to a weekend in the woods, long walks, evenings by the fire. Claire was eager, and Max agreed. We rented a small house on the shore, brought our climbing gear and a couple of tents. From the first day, though, the atmosphere felt off.
I noticed Max and Claire exchanging glances, falling silent whenever I entered the room. The next day they took a long walk together along the lake while I rested after a climb. Max told me they were just showing Claire the old chapel the local ranger had mentioned. I nodded, but something tightened inside me.
On the final night we all gathered around the fire. Their faces were troubled, guilty. Max avoided my eyes, and Claire did the same. I tried to draw them out, but their answers were monosyllabic.
That night I lay awake, convinced something had broken beyond repair.
A week after we returned, Max sent a message: Poppy, we need to talk. Meet me at the café?
I was at work, staring at my screen, a knot of dread forming in my stomach.
At five I arrived at the café. Max was already seated by the window, Claire beside him. I paused at the door, almost turning away, but my feet carried me to the table. I slipped into the seat, jacket still on.
Whats going on? I asked.
Max stared at his napkin, tearing it into tiny pieces before finally looking up.
Poppy, I dont know how to say this. We didnt plan it. It just happened.
I clenched my fists under the table.
In the Lake District we finally realized we fell in love with each other, Max whispered. We tried to fight it, truly we did, but we cant hide it any longer.
Claire began to sob, mascara running down her cheeks.
Poppy, Im sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Youre my best friend, but this this is stronger than us.
Claire reached out.
I pulled my hand back. Anger, betrayal, pain swirled into a choking knot in my throat.
Stronger than us? I snapped, glancing at both of them. You were behind my back while I was planning our future, you were… having fun? While I dreamed of wedding, children, a life together? How could you live with yourselves? What did I do to deserve this?
Poppy, we didnt want Max began.
Didnt want? I raised my voice. A few patrons turned, but I didnt care. You were seeing each other in secret, texting at night! And now you act as if its nothing? This is betrayal, Max. The worst thing you could do to me.
I know, Max said, eyes fixed on the table. I know I acted badly. I cant keep lying to you. I cant pretend everythings fine.
And you? I turned to Claire. You said I was your best friend. How could you?
Claire broke down, covering her face with her hands.
I’m sorry. I never meant for it to turn out like this. We just spent time together, talked, and then realised it was more than friendship.
I rose, the chair screeching as it moved back. I grabbed my bag, gave them one last look.
I dont want to see either of you again. Never.
I walked out into the cold night, tears streaming, but I didnt wipe them. I kept moving until I reached the tube station.
The next day I submitted a request to transfer to the London office. My manager was surprised but didnt press for details. They approved it quickly; my work was valued.
Claire tried to call, but I blocked her number. Max sent a few messages that I deleted without reading. He collected his things while I wasnt home. I returned to an empty flat, stood in the middle of the living room staring at the spot where his sneakers had been.
Two weeks later I was settled in a flat in London. My parents werent thrilled about the move, but I was determined to start over, away from any reminder of Max and Claire.
The first months were rough. I threw myself back into climbing, this time solo, which helped steady my mind.
One day a mutual friend from Manchester messaged me: Max and Claire had moved in together and had been living as a couple for two months.
I read the text, turned off my phone, and let the silence settle.
The pain never vanished completely, but it grew quieter. I stopped waking up in tears, stopped replaying that final meeting over and over. I simply kept going, day by day.
I didnt just lose a boyfriend and a friend; I lost a belief in peoples honesty, in the idea that friendship could be pure, that love couldnt be so easily broken.
Still, I decided to rebuild my life, this time more cautiously inviting new people in. The ache will stay with me for a long time, but I know Ill endure. I have no other choice.
