Falling for My Brother's Best Friend

RILEY I always believed that happily ever after was real. I lived it—or so I thought. But it seems that fairy tales only exist in movies and books because my own dreams have crumbled to dust, leaving behind a bitter reality that feels more like a nightmare. As I stepped inside my husband's workplace, the pristine marble floors gleamed under the harsh lights, and the low hum of fluorescent tubes filled the air, merging into an unsettling symphony of corporate life. Clutching a takeout bag filled with Liam's favorite sandwiches, I took the elevator up to the ninth floor, where he worked as the CEO of Breaking Brief, a major newspaper in Chicago. I had moved to this bustling city with him after our wedding, despite my parents' fervent objections. My older brother, Jackson, pleaded with me not to leave my family behind, but my head was filled with dreams of building a life with Liam, and I was determined to make him happy. Now, I only get to see them during Christmas, a bittersweet reminder of what I had left behind for love. But in just three weeks, I would finally fly to London, my hometown, to reunite with my mom, dad, brother, his wife, and their kids. The thought excited me; I could already picture my mother, Anna, and I hanging glimmering ornaments on the Christmas tree, just like we did when I was a child. That feeling evoked a warm rush of nostalgia—twinkling lights illuminating the night, the scent of pine needles wafting through the air, and the enchanting magic of the holidays swirling around us. I loved the cheerful sounds of Christmas carols, filling our living room as we danced around the tree, carefully placing shimmering baubles on its branches. My brother would hoist me on his shoulders to crown the tree with a sparkling angel, a tradition that always left me beaming with joy. Lost in these happy memories, the ding of the elevator jolted me back to reality. As I stepped out, I glanced around in slight confusion and realized that Liam’s usual assistant wasn’t at her desk; she must have stepped out for lunch. Normally, I would’ve called to let him know I was bringing lunch, but after weeks of this routine, I felt confident he would appreciate the surprise. With a wide, joyful smile stretching across my face, I grabbed the handle of his office door and slowly pushed it open. However, the moment I laid eyes on the scene within, my smile vanished, and my heart plummeted into my stomach. Emotion surged through me like a tidal wave, and dread constricted my throat. The bag of food slipped from my fingers, landing with a dull thump on the polished floor. There, in the dim light of his office, was Liam, with his assistant bent over his desk. The hushed moans escaping her lips echoed in my ears, while he panted like an animal, completely engrossed in her, oblivious to my presence. My chest tightened painfully. I felt paralyzed, rooted in place as the reality of the situation sunk in. It wasn’t long before shock morphed into fury, and before I knew it, I blurted out, “What the f**k?” His head whipped up, eyes bugging wide with shock. The assistant gasped, straightening up and hastily pulling her blouse together to conceal her exposed skin. It was Amy—his assistant. My stomach churned at the thought, the betrayal slicing through me like a knife. How could he do this to me? To the life we built together? It felt like everything we had ever shared had been shattered in an instant. Liam stood speechless for a moment, jaw slack in disbelief, before regaining some composure and taking a hesitant step toward me. I raised my hand to stop him, my voice trembling but fierce. “Don’t you dare touch me.” I pointed at both of them, infusing my voice with venom. “How long has this been going on?” The nausea that assaulted me demanded I grab the bin from the side of his desk. I’d been faithful to this man, sacrificed so much for him, and this was how he repaid me? The contents of my stomach erupted into the bin with a force that was both terrifying and strangely liberating. I hoped the stench would linger in his office for days. His expression shifted from shock to trepidation as he stared at me, Ignoring Liam’s incredulous gaze, I turned towards Amy, my voice low but seething with intensity. “How long have you been sleeping together behind my back?” She hesitated, her conflict evident, before finally exhaling and looking down, her fingers gripping her blouse tightly. In a barely audible whisper, she replied, “Two years.” Her words struck me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. The tears I had fought to restrain welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I turned to Liam, my voice faltering. “Two years.” In a desperate attempt to deflect blame, he sputtered, “She is lying, Riley. She seduced me, and I couldn’t help myself. You know how we men are.” A raw, hollow laugh escaped my lips, trembling with incredulity. “No, Liam, this isn’t about ‘men.’ I know exactly what you’re like.” My voice dripped with pain. “Was I never enough for you?” “Baby, you’re always enough for me. That will never change,” he insisted, desperation creeping into his tone. “But you said—” Amy interjected, but he cut her off with a low, dangerous growl. “Leave,” he commanded, anger etching lines into his features. I could see the tension in his body as he fought to maintain his composure. But I wasn’t done yet. I focused back on Amy, my voice a whisper that barely escaped my lips, “What did he say?” She looked at me, vulnerability etched into her expression. “He said he was leaving you for me. That he has already signed the divorce papers... for me and our child.” The words hung heavy in the air, a crushing weight of betrayal that threatened to uproot everything I once believed. Tears I never wanted to shed filled my eyes, rolling down my cheeks like tiny rivers of hurt. “You know what? He doesn’t need to lie to you anymore, Amy, because that divorce he told you about? It just became a reality for him.” My voice trembled, breaking as I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of remorse. “I’m done, Liam. I’m going back to London today, and you won’t be seeing me ever again. I hope you’re happy with yourself because what we had is now over. Expect the papers through the mail within the next couple of months.” As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm, pulling me fiercely against his body. “You’re not going to believe her over me, are you?” His eyes were wide, pleading, but they held none of the warmth I once cherished. I looked up at him, my expression cold and detached, the love I once felt for him now distant and foreign. I poked his chest angrily with my finger, spitting out my words like venom, “I believe every damn word she said. I thought you didn’t want children, Liam. I thought it wasn’t the right time for you.” My gaze flickered toward Amy, whose smug expression only fueled my rage. “I guess she was more special, right?” I shook my head, the weight of my anger mingling with sorrow as I added, "You know what? Have a happy life." Turning away, I ustepped over the bag I had dropped earlier and threw back over my shoulder, “Don't be surprised if he vanishes from your life. He always said he didn’t want kids. Good luck; you're going to need it.” As I stepped inside the elevator, I was met with a desperate plea—a voice filled with regret and raw longing, “Wait, Riley, please let me explain.” I didn’t want to hear any more excuses. All I craved was to escape home to my family. I should have listened to their warnings; I should never have moved here. I felt foolish for believing in a love that had evidently turned sour. With a blank stare and no hint of emotion in my voice, I replied, “There’s no need for explanations. You’ve been having an affair with your assistant for two years. I understand now that I meant nothing to you and never will.” His voice trembled with desperation as he said, “Please, I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just did.” My throat thickened with emotion as I shouted, “No, you just tripped and fell inside your assistant’s v****a!” He stepped towards me, and instinctively, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. “Let me leave,” I spat, feeling a surge of adrenaline. I’d never hit anyone in my life, but in that moment, he deserved it. His eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively touched his cheek, feeling the sting where a red mark was already forming. Shaking his head, he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of me, desperation etched across his features. “Please,” he said, wrapping his arms around my legs in a gesture of remorse. “Just give me a chance to explain. It was all her, Riley. You have to believe me.” Why do men always shift the blame onto women? It’s a two-way street. Yes, she might have seduced him—if that even was true—but if he were a real man who truly loved me, he wouldn’t have been tempted. A long moment passed as we stared at one another; my disgust at him overwhelmed me. Just as I was about to push him away, his phone rang. The sound broke the tension, He wouldn’t ignore it, not even for me. With his eyes still trained on mine, he pleaded, “Wait for me at home, please. I will be there soon.” He must be joking. I wasn’t waiting for this wretched man. I would never wait for him again. Without uttering another word, he pulled his phone from his pocket, turned, and walked away, finally giving me the freedom to leave. Taking a moment for myself, I steadied my breath and grabbed my phone to book the closest flight to London. Once I arrived at my parents’ house, I would ask my father’s friend Kenny, who was a lawyer, to prepare the divorce papers for me. I didn’t want to be married to him any longer than necessary. It took me ten minutes to reach the home we once shared. As I approached, my heart ached, and my tears began to fall. The memories flooded back—him carrying me in bridal style after our honeymoon, the laughter we shared while cooking dinner together, the cozy cuddles on the couch as we watched our favorite movies. Shaking my head, I compelled myself to clear my mind, ignoring the painful lump forming in my chest as I walked past the kitchen and headed straight to the bedroom. I grabbed the suitcase from the top of the closet and began packing as many clothes as I could fit into it, alongside my makeup bag from the bathroom, before zipping it shut. After a lengthy check-in line where a woman became increasingly frustrated because her ticket was incorrect—despite her booking it herself—I finally made it to the boarding line. That’s when my phone rang. I knew it was him, so I didn’t even bother looking at the screen or answering. As the line progressed, I took my suitcase and walked towards the woman in the red hat, perfectly paired with a matching skirt and blazer. She greeted me with a warm smile as I approached. “Boarding pass, please,” she said brightly. Gathering the last bits of energy I could muster, I gave her a small, strained smile and handed over my pass. She checked the details, scanning it with care, all the while maintaining her cheerful demeanor. After confirming everything, she returned my boarding pass and said, “Thank you for flying with American Airlines. Have a safe flight.” Without a word, I walked into the gate, ready to leave my past behind and embrace a new beginning. Taking a deep breath, I step onto the plane, the sterile scent of the cabin mixed with the distant sound of passengers stowing their luggage. I find my seat by the window, glancing out at the busy tarmac one last time. Since it will probably be a while before we take off, I quickly pull out my phone and send a text. “Hi Jackson, don’t tell Mom and Dad just yet, but I’m coming home early for Christmas. I’m already on the plane. I will see you soon. Okay, remember to keep it a secret. I love you. Riley x” A couple of minutes pass, filled with the hum of chatter around me, and soon my phone vibrates with a message from my brother. “Wait, you’re coming right now? Why? You don’t usually come this early. You like to wait until it’s a couple of days before Christmas because of Liam and work.” I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of that last line sink in. My heart pounds as I realize the precarious situation I’m in. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I begin to type again. “He isn’t coming this year.” Biting my lower lip, I hesitate as I search for a plausible excuse. I hate lying to him, but if he discovers the truth, he could react recklessly—and I can’t bear the thought of my brother in jail because of a violent outburst. Telling myself it’s just a minor deception until I arrive, I continue typing: “He has work. I have to go, but we will talk when I get to London, okay? I love you.” With that, I put my phone in airplane mode, slipping it back into my pocket. As I lean my head back against the seat, I remind myself that I refuse to let the betrayal define my future. I am reclaiming my life, and this time, I will choose happiness on my terms. The thrill of what awaits me at home bolsters my spirits, mixing with a renewed sense of purpose.