I was supposed to meet Ethan at the hospital at 9:00 a.m.

He promised he’d be there —promised he’d hold my hand before I went in for surgery.
But as the clock kept ticking, all I had was silence. No Ethan. No text. No missed call.
Just me, sitting alone in the back of a cab, calling his number over and over again.
Only to hear the automated voice say:

“The number you have dialed is currently busy.”

By the time I checked into the hospital, he had finally called.

“Mia, I’m so sorry… I really wanted to be there, but… something happened. Leah, she—she called me this morning and said she was crying and going to hurt herself. I didn’t know what to do.”

I didn’t even argue. I simply hung up. Because I already knew—she did it on purpose.

=====

vid

Let me tell you how I met Leah.

She was my colleague. Bright, charming, and a little too friendly at times.

One lunch break, she invited me out. Her boyfriend came along. So did Ethan. Somewhere between appetizers and dessert, Leah decided she’d play matchmaker.
“Ethan’s single, you’re single. You two should totally go out!” she giggled.

I smiled politely but felt awkward. Still, a few days later, Ethan messaged me. And before I knew it, he was pursuing me—earnestly.

Leah, of course, was always around to “help.” She told him what flowers I liked. What I hated. How I took my coffee. She was everywhere in the background, orchestrating things.

At first, it seemed sweet. Then it became suffocating.

Every date Ethan and I had—Leah found a reason to show up. She clung to Ethan like static. Whispered into his ear. Gave him orders, disguised as “friendly advice.”

If I frowned, I was being oversensitive. If I questioned their closeness, I didn’t “understand their friendship.”

It was exhausting.

Then came Ethan’s birthday.

He rented a beach house and invited a crowd.
While I was sweating in the kitchen with a few girls trying to prep dinner, Leah strolled in like a queen.

She leaned toward me and whispered:

“Ethan doesn’t like pepper. Only eats shredded potatoes, not cubes. And he’s allergic to peanuts, by the way.”

I paused. Put down my knife.

“Then why don’t you cook for him?”

She grinned. “Oh no. I’m just the best friend. You’re the girlfriend. This is your time to shine.” The sarcasm dripped off every syllable.

We were mid-argument when Ethan walked in. He pulled me aside and said:

“Come on, babe. Don’t be mad. Don’t take her seriously. She’s like a dude in a girl’s body.”

Leah burst into crocodile tears and punched him lightly in the back.

“Ethan! Even if you begged, I wouldn’t be your friend anymore!”

And just like that, she ghosted him.
But he… changed.

He became distant, distracted. He couldn’t even tell a dress from a jacket. Poured vinegar into noodles without thinking. I confronted him.

“Do you still want to be with me? Or are you just mourning your precious friendship with her?”

He denied it, of course. Claimed he was just upset about losing a 20-year friendship. Asked me not to make him choose. Said I was overthinking.

====

Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with uterine fibroids. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it wasn’t nothing either. I was scared. I needed support.

Ethan promised he’d be with me on surgery day. But when Leah cried wolf—he disappeared.

After his sorry excuse of a phone call, Leah called me next.

“Mia, let’s get something straight. We are closer than family. You wouldn’t even know him if it weren’t for me.”

“We’ve never slept together, okay? Never even kissed. But you still can’t compare. You don’t belong in his world.”

My hand shook with rage.

“You’re right, Leah. You’re different. So special. So… pure. You’re the only woman I know who can latch onto someone else’s boyfriend and still claim moral high ground! Congratulations. You win. Tell Ethan we’re done. And that he should stay as far away from me as you do from self-awareness!”

I went into surgery alone.

Well, not quite alone.

Just as they were wheeling me in, someone ran up, out of breath.

“Mia! Wait!”

It was Thomas. A mutual friend of Ethan’s. Though not a close one.

“I heard about your surgery… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Did Ethan send you?”

“No. I came on my own.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Then think of it this way—I’m not helping Ethan. I’m helping you.”

“Then prove it. Cut ties with him.”

“Done.”

He took out his phone, called Ethan, and said:

“We’re not friends anymore. Don’t contact me again.”

Click.

Thomas stayed by my side for the next two weeks.

Ethan didn’t.

Well… that’s not true. Leah used a fake account to send me a photo of her in bed with Ethan.

“Sorry, sis! Guess he just couldn’t resist. Should’ve known better than to try dating a guy I handpicked for you.”

My heart didn’t even ache anymore. It was numb.

I started opening up to Thomas. He was kind. Gentle. Never once brought up Ethan unless I did.

Then, one night, Ethan called.

“Mia… can we talk?”

I smirked.

“Sure. I’m in bed. With your best friend. Just wanted to see what all the ‘nothing ever happened’ fuss was about.”

“Wait… what?! Who is it?”

Thomas calmly took the phone from me.

“Don’t call her again.” And hung up.

Moments later, the doorbell rang like a fire alarm. I opened it to find Ethan, looking heartbroken.

“Mia, please. I’m sorry. Are you done being mad? Can we talk?”

“We’re done, Ethan. Period.”

He tried to grab my hand.

“I’ll prove to you how much I love you.”

I kicked him away.

“If you show up here again, I’ll send that bed photo to everyone you know.”

Thomas stepped into view.

Ethan’s face turned red.

“Thomas! I trusted you!”

“Maybe you should’ve valued her instead of whining over your ‘friendship.’”
“You lost her. Now deal with it.”

And just like that, I was free.

No more Ethan. No more Leah.

No more pretending their toxic “friendship” was some kind of noble bond I had to tiptoe around.

Now, it’s just me and someone who actually shows up when it matters.

And honestly?

That’s all I’ve ever needed.