At a family barbecue, Wren tries to hold herself together while the weight of betrayal presses against her chest. Surrounded by secrets, simmering tensions, and a father-in-law who won’t stop praising the one woman she can’t bear to hear about, she finally decides she’s had enough, and she lets the truth out.
I turned 30 this spring, and I thought it would feel like stepping onto steady ground, like life would finally settle into something certain.
When Stella, my mother-in-law, set the lemon cake in front of me, I closed my eyes and wished for peace — for a year of joy, quiet stability, and belief that five years of marriage meant Jordan and I had already weathered the hardest storms.
“Happy birthday, Wren,” she said, smiling gently.
I told myself we would always find our way back to each other, that the cracks we faced had only made us stronger. But what I didn’t realize, as the frosting melted sweet on my lips, was that I was wishing for a life that had already been broken, and a marriage already splintering in ways I couldn’t yet see.
Lisa.
There was always Lisa.
From the very beginning of my relationship with Jordan, she was the thorn in my side. She was the name that slipped too easily off Jordan’s tongue, the person who seemed to appear in every corner of our marriage.
He insisted she was nothing more than his “girl best friend,” a phrase that sounded ridiculous to me when spoken by a man in his 30s, but I tried to accept it.
“Relax, Wren,” he said one day while making burritos for dinner. “Lisa and I have known each other for years.
If something was meant to happen, it would have — a long time ago.”
I knew he was trying to reassure me, but his words felt more like a warning or a bad omen than anything comforting.
Lisa had been in Jordan’s life since childhood, and their bond seemed unshakable. It was the kind of history I could never compete with. I told myself that every marriage came with compromises, and she was mine.
Still, the compromises grew heavier.
Lisa slipped into places I believed belonged only to us. She came on family trips, settled in beside Jordan on our couch for movie nights, and texted him constantly.
Their conversations unfolded like a private world, one I was never invited into. I told myself not to be petty, not to sound insecure, but the unease pressed against my ribs every time I saw his phone light up with her name.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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