And then finally replied:
Because I already lost my marriage. Lost Michael. If I had lost you, I would have nothing left. And yes… it was selfish.
For the first time she did not make excuses.
Susan admitted that every year she became harder to look me in the eye. The shame gradually turned into a cargo that she could no longer carry.
When Michael got sick, she wanted to tell me all at once.
But he asked her to wait.
He was afraid to spend the last months of his life watching our family collapse.
And Susan agreed.
They made the decision again for me.
I went up and opened the hotel room door.
Susan understood without words.
She’s up too.
When she got to the door, she suddenly stopped and turned around.
“Yesterday I asked you to take our last photo together because I knew that after today, you would never call me your friend again.
I looked at her and felt like thirty-seven years of our lives were passing before my eyes one after another.
Two little girls in the schoolyard.
Our first school dance.
My wedding.
Birth of my children.
My mother’s funeral.
Michael’s last night at the hospital.
Susan was part of every one of those memories.
But now each of them seems to have two versions.
The one I lived.
And the one I just found out.
The one I knew.
And the one that actually happened.
I said only one thing:
– You were right. This was our last photo.
She’s gone.
Six months have passed since that day.
We didn’t talk.
She sent me two letters.
I didn’t answer any.
But the weird thing is, I still haven’t deleted our last photo.
Sometimes I open it and look at our smiling faces for a long time.
In this photo, I’m still the woman who believes that the person next to her is the surest friend she’s ever had.
And Susan already knows that in just a few hours my whole life will change.
Sometimes people ask me if I can ever forgive her.
I still don’t know the answer.
Because betrayal is not only to know that your best friend had an affair with your husband.
For me the most painful was another.
Twelve years, every day, they both had the opportunity to tell me the truth.
And twelve years, every day, they both chose silence.
