My Mother Helped Him Cheat

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On the day of my graduation, Larry had just slipped a simple silver band onto my ring finger when my phone buzzed. It was an email from a scrambled, unrecognizable address. The subject line read: From Ten Years in the Future.

Amused and assuming it was some elaborate graduation prank, I typed out a quick reply: "Will Larry and I be happy? What about Cathy, my best friend? Will the two of us stay friends forever?"

The response came almost instantly.

"According to your current timeline, Larry has already been sleeping with Cathy for a year."

"Everyone knows. Even your mother."

"After you marry him, he will give you a thousand dollars a month for groceries while wire-transferring ten thousand to her."

"You will suffer three miscarriages, all because of him and Cathy."

"And you will only discover the truth on the day they celebrate their tenth anniversary of being together."

The final email contained only a single sentence. I stared at the screen, my entire body beginning to tremble.

"I beg you, don't marry him. The doctor says I only have a month left."

Seeing me frozen in place with my eyes locked on the screen, Larry smiled, wrapping an arm around my waist. "What's got you so mesmerized, babe?"

I forced myself back to reality, locking my phone. "Nothing. Just a rejection letter from another firm."

He let out a soft laugh. "Thats their loss. You're too good for them anyway. Besides, we already agreed we're starting at the firm together."

I managed a tight smile but said nothing. Just then, Cathy ran over, her white sundress fluttering in the June breeze. She was holding a bouquet of baby's breath.

"Diana! Come on, we need to get our graduation photos before the light fades!" She grinned, grabbing my arm, before casting a playful glance at Larry. "I suppose I'll let you be our photographer. But if they're blurry, I'm throwing a punch." She raised a small, clenched fist toward his chest.

Usually, when they acted like oil and water, I would step in to play the peacemaker. But with the weight of that email sitting like lead in my chest, I simply watched.

Larry offered a lazy, slow curl of his lips. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist as he drew out his words. "Is that so? I'd actually love to see you try."

Cathys cheeks flushed a sudden, deep crimson. She yanked her hand back, huffing. "Don't touch me with your gross hands. Come on, Diana, let's go."

Later, during a break in our photo session in the empty classrooms, I excused myself to use the restroom. As I walked back down the quiet hallway and reached for the classroom door, voices drifted through the slightly open gap.

"Larry, this ten-carat diamond ring is so gorgeous. I love it. Why didn't you get Diana one too? We're best friends, we should have matching ones."

I heard the rustle of clothing, and then Larrys voice, soft and indulgentthe tone he reserved for things he truly cherished. "Silly. You forgot? I'm playing the broke college grad around her. Besides, this was custom-made just for you. It's one of a kind."

I looked down at the cheap, plain silver band on my finger. The cold metal suddenly felt like a brand. I stood there for a long moment, forcing a slow, quiet breath into my lungs, before pushing the door open.

At the sound of the hinges creaking, Larrys hand snapped away from Cathys shoulder.

To celebrate our graduation, the group went out for dinner and drinks that evening. Sitting at the loud, crowded table, my phone vibrated in my lap.

Another email.

"Don't listen to what they say. Watch what they do."

I didn't quite understand the warning until someone at the table suggested a game of Truth or Dare.

Larry drew a card: Do ten squats while bridal-carrying the second person to your left.

I was sitting directly to his left. Cathy was sitting to mine. The second person to his left was Cathy.

A chorus of whistles and suggestive laughter erupted from our friends. Cathy rolled her eyes, her brow furrowing in apparent disgust. "Ugh, what a stupid game. As if I'd want you touching me. Don't worry, Diana, I'll make sure he pays for this."

Larry chuckled, casting a brief, reassuring look at me. "Just a game, babe. Don't be jealous."

He walked over and lifted Cathy into his arms. The fit was seamless, their bodies pressing together in an intimate, familiar alignment. Cathys arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers burying slightly into his collar.

When he finished, Larry laughed off the tension, complaining that she was heavy and wiping sweat from his forehead. But I noticed his ears were burning red.

Cathy sniffed. "I'm the one who's disgusted. Diana, I'm going to the restroom to wash off this cheap cologne."

They left the tableone after the otherwith a practiced, silent coordination.

My phone buzzed again.

"Do you know? When I found his old journal years later, I learned that during that graduation dinner, when they took forever to return, they were in the empty private dining room next door..."

I stood up, claiming I needed to use the restroom. The friends at the table tried to stop me. "Wait for Larry to get back, Diana. It's crowded tonight, don't go alone."

I offered them a calm, reassuring smile. "Actually, I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I think I'm going to slip out and head home early. Can you let them know for me?"

They looked visibly relieved, nodding quickly.

I walked down the hallway, keeping my footsteps light against the carpet. The restaurant's bass-heavy music muffled the ambient noise, but as I passed the dark, vacant private room next door, I stopped. Through the narrow crack in the doorframe, under the dim amber light, I saw them.

Cathy was pressed against the wall, her lips parted, her tongue sliding against his in a deep, desperate kiss. Larrys hand was locked at the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her in with a hunger I had never seen in him.

When I finally stepped out into the cool night air, a text message from my mother popped up.

A few days ago, she had been ecstatic about booking the flights for our post-grad trip. I hadn't received the confirmation email yet, assuming she was still waiting on a deal.

Diana, I could only get three ticketsone for me, one for Larry, and one for Cathy. There weren't any left for you. See if you can get yourself on the standby list.

I stared at the glowing screen. A cold, hollow realization settled over me: I was the outsider in my own life.

We had planned this trip for months. Cathy was the one who had suggested bringing my mother along, and my mother had happily volunteered to handle the bookings. My parents had divorced when I was young, and Cathy, who lived across the hall, had practically grown up in our home since middle school. We were a trio. Or so I had believed.

My phone vibrated again. Larry was calling. "Why didn't you wait for me, babe? I wanted to drive you home."

His voice was still so tender. It brought back memories of our high school graduation, of him standing under the streetlights, face flushed as he confessed his love. Throughout our four years of college, he had always played the protective boyfriend. When a stranger had followed me to my dorm, Larry had taken a blow from a metal pipe to protect me. He had never missed an anniversary, always scraping together whatever money he had to buy me a thoughtful gift.

"Protecting my girl is just what I do," he used to say, flashing that boyish grin.

In our junior year, I had finally introduced him to Cathy. From their very first meeting, they seemed to detest one another.

Larry had grumbled, "Is she going to steal all your attention from me? No way."

Cathy had laughed it off, asking me where on earth I had found such a hopelessly devoted simp.

The morning after the graduation dinner, I was carrying the last of my things down from the dorm lobby when I ran into Cathy. She was in a foul mood, muttering about how Larry had dumped her at the campus gates the night before and made her walk the rest of the way.

I said nothing. Outside, Larrys car was idling. Cathy pulled open the rear door and slid inside, muttering that she was going to sleep.

A couple of underclassmen walked past us, gossiping loudly. "Did you hear? Last night, near the woods behind the dorms, someone was making out so loud you could hear it from the path."

Larry, who was loading my suitcases into the trunk, froze for a fraction of a second.

As I sat in the passenger seat, I adjusted the sun visor to check my makeup. Through the compact mirror, I watched them. Larry handed me a bottle of water, his eyes automatically darting to the rearview mirror to meet Cathy's gaze. She made a childish face at him, and his lips curved into a private, knowing smile.

When we got home, my mother was waiting. We had always kept a guest bedroom ready for Cathy.

Before bed, my mother brought a warm glass of milk to my room. Her eyes lingered on my face a second longer than usual. "You've had a stressful week, sweetheart. Drink this and get some sleep."

I smiled, taking the glass. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

The moment she closed the door, my hand hesitated. Remembering the email, I walked over to the windowsill and slowly poured every drop of the milk into the soil of a large succulent, using a small spade to cover the wet dirt with fresh soil.

My mother had sacrificed a lot to raise me. She had always seemed to give me whatever I asked for. But after everything I had seen, I couldn't afford to trust blindly anymore.

I lay down on the bed, keeping my breathing slow and even, pretending to be asleep.

After what felt like hours, my bedroom door creaked open. Footsteps approached, stopping right beside my bed. Someone stood there, watching me in the darkness, before quietly slipping back out and shutting the door.

A moment later, muffled, hushed voices drifted from the living room.

I slipped out of bed, my bare feet making no sound on the floor, and pressed my ear against the wood of the door.

"Is she asleep?" Cathy's voice was a soft whisper.

"She drank it. She's out coldI made sure to put a sleeping aid in her milk," my mother replied, her voice chillingly calm. "Keep your voices down. Don't wake her."

My heart gave a violent, painful squeeze.

Larrys voice rose, carrying a trace of hesitation. "Do we really have to go through with this? Is there no other way?"

"Didn't you promise me wed celebrate after we registered the marriage license tomorrow?" Cathys voice turned into a whiny, petulant pout. "You said you'd make it up to me."

"But..."

"Larry," Cathy cut him off, her tone shifting. "Think about it. If she doesn't get hurt, we marry tomorrow and we don't even get to go on a honeymoon? She'll expect you to spend all your time with her."

A long silence stretched over the apartment.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," Larry finally sighed.

"Tomorrow, Diana and I will go to the old bookstore downtown," Cathy said, her voice turning sweet again.

"Is that place safe? Don't make it too serious. We don't want a real tragedy," Larry warned.

My mothers voice joined back in. "Ill pretend I know nothing tomorrow. Just be careful, both of you."

I leaned my forehead against the cold wood of the door, my fingernails digging into my palms until they nearly drew blood.

The mother who had fought a bitter, years-long custody battle against my father to keep me, the woman I had trusted with my entire life, was quietly conspiring with my boyfriend and my best friend to stage an accident so they could run off on a honeymoon.

I took a slow, deep breath, walked back to my bed, and closed my eyes.

The next morning, I intentionally stayed in bed until nearly noon.

When I finally walked into the living room, they were already waiting. Larry and Cathy were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, while my mother hummed a tune in the kitchen. They looked radiantno doubt because they had already made a trip to the courthouse that morning to sign their marriage certificate.

Seeing me, Cathy jumped up with a bright smile. "Diana! Come to the old bookstore with me? I really want to find a copy of that vintage art monograph."

"Sure," I smiled back. "Let's go."

Larry offered to drive us. He parked outside the shop and stayed in the car, claiming he had some emails to reply to.

The old bookstore was a dusty, two-story labyrinth. Cathy led the way toward the creaky wooden staircase that led to the second-floor loft. I followed a few steps behind, watching her closely.

She climbed halfway up, then suddenly let out a sharp gasp, her body tilting backward as her arms flailed wildly, reaching out to grab my collar.

Having prepared for this, I kept my hand locked tightly around the solid iron banister. I pressed my back flat against the wall, giving her absolutely no leverage.

Cathys hands grabbed empty air. Losing her balance completely, she tumbled backward down the wooden stairs, landing hard on the floorboards with a sickening thud and a scream of genuine pain.

Hearing the commotion, Larry burst through the front door. His eyes scanned the room, bypassing me entirely to land on Cathy writhing on the floor.

He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with a raw, unscripted fury. "Why didn't you catch her? You just stood there and watched her fall?"

I stood on the stairs, looking down at him, my voice completely devoid of emotion. "Larry, whose boyfriend are you? You didn't even ask if I was okay before accusing me. If someone walked in right now, they'd think you were the one married to her."

He froze, a sudden flicker of panic and guilt crossing his face.

Cathy whimpered from the floor, clutching her ankle. "It hurts so much, Larry... my leg..."

Larry immediately knelt beside her, lifting her into his arms with practiced care, and carried her out to the car. He didn't look back at me once.

At the hospital, Larry was a whirlwind of anxiety. He handled the registration, paid the bills, and wheeled her to the radiology department, showing far more concern than a friend of the family ever should. In his panic, he completely forgot to play the role of the broke college kid.

I leaned against the wall outside the examination room, my arms crossed, watching his frantic movements with a cold, steady gaze.

Sensing my eyes on him, he finally seemed to realize his mistake. He walked over, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile plastered on his face. "She's your best friend, Diana. I know how much you care about her. I just wanted to make sure everything was handled so you wouldn't have to worry."

I almost laughed. His acting was usually seamless, but today, he had overplayed his hand.

I turned around, walked out of the hospital lobby, and dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

After a few rings, my father's voice came through the line, thick with disbelief and hope. "Diana? You're actually calling me."

"Dad," I said, staring at my reflection in the glass doors of the hospital exit. "That offer to join the company in Londondoes it still stand?"

"Of course. Anytime you want, sweetheart."

"Set it up," I said. "As fast as you can."