I found out on a Tuesday. The air in the campus library was stale with coffee and paper, the sound of frantic typing and pages flipping filling the silence. Everyone was on edge—it was finals week, the one stretch of days when nobody dared skip class. Nobody, except her.
My best friend, Rachel.
She was supposed to be in her exam. I even wished her luck that morning, hugging her tightly outside the lecture hall while she groaned about how unprepared she felt. “If I bomb this, it’s your fault for dragging me to brunch yesterday,” she’d laughed, tossing her hair back, her perfume sharp and sweet.
But an hour later, when I passed by the coffee shop off campus, I saw them.
Through the wide glass window, there they were—Rachel and my boyfriend, Adam.
Not studying. Not working. Not “running into each other.” She was leaning across the table, her hands brushing his, her lips curved into the kind of smile I used to think she saved for me when we shared secrets. His head was tilted, his eyes locked on hers, that soft, stupid grin plastered across his face.
I froze on the sidewalk, my textbooks cutting into my arms. The world blurred around me—students rushing past, traffic humming, the smell of burnt espresso wafting through the air. All I could see was them.
She skipped her finals… for him.
I pushed open the door so hard the bell above clanged violently. Heads turned, but I didn’t care.
“Rachel,” I snapped, my voice echoing sharper than I intended.
Her smile dropped. Adam’s grin evaporated. They jerked apart like children caught stealing candy.
“Clara,” she stammered, clutching her cup, her nails tapping frantically against the cardboard sleeve. “I… what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” My laugh was hollow, jagged. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in your exam. Instead, you’re sitting here with him?”
Adam’s face flushed, his mouth fumbling. “It’s not—”
“Don’t you dare say it’s not what it looks like,” I cut him off, heat flooding my chest. My pulse pounded so hard I could barely hear my own words. “Because it looks exactly like my best friend skipped one of the most important exams of her life to meet my boyfriend behind my back.”
Rachel’s eyes darted toward him, then back to me. Her lips parted, trembling, but no excuse came out. Her silence screamed louder than any confession.
I slammed my books onto the table, the sound rattling cups and plates. “You ruined everything,” I whispered, my voice breaking now. “You ruined us.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of them. I turned and stormed out, the bell clattering again, the chatter resuming behind me like nothing had happened.
Outside, the sun burned my skin, mocking me with its brightness. I walked faster, clutching my books to my chest as though they could hold me together.
But no amount of studying, no amount of finals, could have prepared me for the test I faced that day—the test of betrayal. And both of them failed.
Final Thought
Exams can be retaken. Friendships and love can’t. She skipped her finals to meet my boyfriend, but in doing so, she failed something far greater—my trust. And once trust is broken,
