**Betrayal, Take Two**
I never thought I’d be writing about this again. Veronica and Taya always rode to work together—Taya behind the wheel, responsible and sharp, the kind you could trust with anything. Veronica, cheerful and a bit careless, but stunning. They’d been friends for nearly a decade, ever since they ended up sharing an office with two other colleagues.
Neither was married anymore. Their children were grown, living their own lives. Taya had lost her husband seven years ago—a car accident—and she’d closed the door on love after that.
“You should find someone, Taya,” Veronica would say. “Not necessarily marriage, but just someone to keep you company.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Taya would reply quietly. “He was my other half. There’s no one else for me.”
Veronica was different—confident, educated, free. She’d left her husband eight years ago after walking in on him with another woman in *her* flat. No arguments, no drama. She just packed his things and changed the locks. Since then, she’d dated—hoping, always hoping, for someone who’d make her feel alive again. But no one quite fit.
Recently, Veronica had celebrated her forty-fifth—her “berry birthday,” she called it. They’d gone to a nice restaurant, just the two of them. Taya had hesitated when Veronica insisted on throwing a party at forty—superstitious, maybe, but people whispered that forty was a year best passed quietly. Veronica just laughed. “What’s life without a little risk?”
That evening, across the room, a handsome man caught Veronica’s eye—dark-haired, charming, the sort you’d see playing the lead in a film. Before Taya could blink, Veronica had dragged him to their table.
“Veronica, where did you *find* him?” Taya hissed.
“He asked me to dance,” Veronica grinned. “And when he heard it was my birthday, he promised me a gift tomorrow.”
The man—Daniel—started seeing Veronica regularly after that. By their second date, she knew he was married.
“It’s over between us,” he assured her. “The divorce is just a formality.”
He spoiled her—flowers, dinners, weekends away. Taya hardly recognised her friend.
“You’re floating on air,” she warned. “Be careful.”
But Veronica just laughed. “Oh, Taya, he’s *wonderful*. I’ve never felt like this before.”
Taya sighed. “I don’t trust him. He’s got the eyes of a man who’s always looking for the next best thing.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? No. Worried.”
A year and a half passed. Daniel stopped mentioning the divorce. Then he stopped calling as often. Eventually, Veronica confronted him.
“Is something wrong?”
He sighed. “I’ve met someone else. Younger. I should’ve told you sooner.”
Veronica sobbed on Taya’s shoulder for weeks. Taya did everything—cinema trips, dinner dates, even weekends at her mum’s cottage—just to distract her. Slowly, Veronica recovered. Smiled again.
Then, one Sunday, Taya saw Daniel’s car outside Veronica’s flat.
*Oh no.*
Back at work, Veronica was glowing. “Taya, don’t look at me like that. Yes, it’s him. He—he wants me to go to Spain with him! Says he missed me.”
Taya stared. “And you believe him?”
“He apologised! He loves me, he said. He just needed time.”
“Veronica, you *know*—”
“Please, Taya. Just drop it.”
Two weeks later, Veronica called from Spain, giddy. “Oh, Taya, it’s *perfect*. He’s filing for divorce as soon as we’re back!”
Taya hung up, uneasy. *Either I’m wrong about him… or he’s just very, very good at this.*
Autumn came. Rain, wind, dead leaves. Then—the phone call. Veronica, crying.
“He left me. *Again.*”
This time, for a twenty-year-old.
Taya held her, stroking her hair. “You always knew, deep down. He wasn’t the one.”
Veronica nodded, tears drying. “I know. I *know*.”
Taya hoped—*really* hoped—this was the end of it. But only time would tell.
