My auntโs marriage ended six years ago. Last month she opened Instagram and nearly dropped her phone.
The woman smiling beside her ex husband wasnโt a stranger. It wasnโt a colleague from work. It wasnโt some random woman he met after the divorce. It was her former best friend. The same friend who used to spend weekends at their house. The same friend who knew where the spare keys were kept. The same friend who sat in her living room countless times listening to her complain about the marriage when things started falling apart.
Back then, nobody thought anything of their friendship. The woman was around so often she practically became family. She attended birthdays, joined family outings and knew details about the marriage that even some relatives didnโt know. Whenever my aunt and her husband fought, she was usually one of the first people to hear about it. Whenever my aunt needed advice, that was the person she called. Trust had already been established years earlier.
The marriage eventually collapsed under its own weight. Arguments became normal. Resentment settled in. Divorce followed. During that period, the friend remained supportive. She checked in constantly, listened to endless phone calls and repeatedly assured my aunt that life would eventually get better. Then slowly, almost without anyone noticing, she became less available. Fewer calls. Fewer visits. Less communication.
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