After her difficult divorce, my best friend Serena asked if she could stay with us for a while. She was heartbroken and had nowhere else to go. Of course, I said yes. My husband, Dorian, was understanding—or so I thought.
Two weeks later, I ran into Serena’s ex-husband at the grocery store. I casually mentioned she was staying with me, and he gave me a strange look. “Oh,” he said with a smirk. “So you don’t know.”
“Know what?” I asked.
He hesitated, then said, “Never mind,” and walked away.
That small moment planted a seed of doubt I couldn’t shake. At home, Serena acted completely normal—relaxed, carefree. But I started noticing little things: how she laughed at Dorian’s jokes, how close they seemed to sit, how often she borrowed my perfume or wore more revealing clothes around the house.
Then one day, I came home early from work. They were sitting outside together, whispering and smiling. When they saw me, they jumped apart.
“Just chatting about the garden,” Serena said casually.
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