Loyal Friendship Betrayed “I envy you, Amy. Honestly. I really do.” Amy was taken aback. The idea of Sophie envying her seemed absurd… “Are you serious?” Amy asked. “Exactly what do you envy? Do you remember what happened with my last relationship? And this one isn’t exactly heavenly either… I never have much luck with guys… What’s there to envy?” Sophie shook her head, sunlight glinting off her hair. “It’s not about boys, Amy. You’ve got amazing parents. You know? Amazing. They’ve never shouted at you. Never got so drunk that you had to drag them home. And now, look—they’ve given you a flat.” “Soph…” But Sophie wasn’t done. “And mine…” Sophie paused, searching for words. “Mine have always drunk. At first it was ‘just to relax after work,’ then it was ‘just stress,’ and now… now it’s hopeless. Not to mention the loans I’m stuck with because they think it’ll fix things. Sure. I watch your mum call just to ask how you’re feeling, and I realise I was born unlucky…” You’d want to offer comfort, but Mila felt unsettled by that sharp—what seemed to her—“envy.” Friends shouldn’t envy each other. “What can you do?” Amy shrugged. “We can’t pick our parents.” Amy hadn’t been lucky in everything, either. Unlucky in love. Her first serious boyfriend, Tom, who swore they were “one soul,” dumped her after three years—for another woman, no less. After Tom, Amy decided just to live. Love would come on its own, if she didn’t chase it. She didn’t, but then met Mark. At first kind, then his real self—a scatterbrain and a selfish bloke. He forgot to lock the flat door again! Shoes in the hallway, one just tossed sideways, the other by the bathroom. “Hey,” Amy said. Mark shook his shaggy hair. “Oh, finally,” he grumbled. “Listen, I need to transfer money to my card. Can you do it? You can, right? I’ll pay you back.” Amy dropped her bag. Same old song. “Mark, we talked about this. I need to pay for internet, and I planned to buy real meat instead of your mystery sausages.” “Meat can wait, Amy! Come on, just two hundred. I’ll pay you back.” “Alright. But it’s the last two hundred until your advance. And don’t forget about the internet. You can pay for that yourself.” Soon Amy began to suspect things. First, her ring went missing. Not the engagement ring (her history with those wasn’t simple), but a delicate gold band with a dull amethyst. It always stayed in the same place. “Soph, do you remember where I last wore my ring?” Amy asked one night over tea. “No, Ames. No idea… Not at home? Maybe you lost it somewhere?” “I don’t know. I saw it last weekend. Mark was moving stuff in the wardrobe, maybe he knocked it…” “Mark? He goes through your wardrobe?” Sophie squinted. “Well, yeah, he lives here now.” The next loss stung more. An old, but functioning mobile. Amy used it as a backup, for dodgy online registrations or as a courier number. It lay in her desk drawer. Amy searched three times. “Mark, did you see my old phone?” “What do you need it for?” Mark didn’t even look over. “You never use it. Probably tossed it out by accident.” His casualness triggered alarm bells. Too casual. Amy started noticing missing money from her wallet. Little things disappeared again. A pack of expensive batteries meant for her scales. All small, not worth much on their own, but together painting an unpleasant picture. “Soph, listen—” Amy said, stirring her coffee. “You know how easy it is to misplace things…” “I do,” Sophie sipped her tea and grimaced, “Spent three days looking for my umbrella—it was hanging on my chair the whole time…” “Right. But would you… let’s say you needed cash badly—would you ever take something from a mate, something not very valuable, just to return it later?” Sophie looked at her, surprised. “What are you saying, Ames? Did you nick something?” “Not me. Just a hypothetical. Imagine you need concert tickets, and your friend’s got a ring in her jewellery box she never wears.” Sophie thought hard… “Theoretically? I’d get a temp gig, sell something of mine. I wouldn’t touch my mate’s stuff. That’s stealing—even if you pretend it’s ‘just for now.’” “And what if it’s not your mate but your boyfriend?” Amy pressed, gauging Sophie’s reaction. Sophie hesitated. “If my boyfriend started taking my things, he’d no longer be my boyfriend. If he steals—he’s a thief. End of. And stealing from your own? That’s just… wrong. Ames, is Mark stealing from you?” Amy admitted her suspicions. “Just ask him outright,” Sophie advised. “Watch his reaction.” “Just… ask directly?” “What have you got to lose?” Sophie replied. “If he’s innocent, he’s will be offended and explain. If he’s lying… well, you already suspect. Better know the truth.” Yes, maybe it was time to ask. If he lies, it’ll show. Amy tried not to hurt Mark’s feelings, but he blew up: “Are you nuts? What things? Great, now you’re blaming me because you can’t keep track of your stuff?” Mark denied it. Shouted. Fumed. Even tipped out all his bags to prove he hadn’t hidden anything. But confessed nothing. That evening he left to drink with his mate and moan about Amy. The next day, Amy decided she needed to talk to Sophie. She rang at lunchtime. “Sophie, hi. Can I come over? I need to vent about Mark. He…” “Amy, I can’t,” Sophie cut her off. “Got stuff going on. Talk tonight?” “Just for a minute!” “Alright, just for a minute.” Amy had upset her boyfriend, out of nowhere. Would he come back? Can you be forgiven for something like this? Sophie listened in silence, nodding, but her eyes kept drifting away. Finally, Amy finished, waiting for sympathy. “…And he left! You see?” Sophie, who’d been about to go out before Amy arrived, replied: “Congrats, Amy. If he ran, he’s guilty.” “Thanks for the support,” Amy snapped. “And what about you? You seem distant.” Sophie hadn’t talked about her new work romance, and now wasn’t the time. She checked her watch, but Amy caught her hand. The bracelet—exactly like the silver one Amy had lost recently. “Seriously?” Amy gasped. “So it’s you?” “What do you mean, me?” Sophie pulled away. “Let me guess, you’ll say your cousin gave you the bracelet, right? So you got jealous, started nicking my stuff behind my back. And blaming Mark! Great friend… You even wore my bracelet!” Sophie glanced between Amy and the bracelet… “This isn’t yours…” she stammered. “Ames, you’ve known me since nursery. It’s not yours! I got it as a present! I can prove it!” “Don’t bother. Keep it. Might be a small comfort—you called yourself an unlucky loser.” A week of total silence passed. Mark didn’t come back. To find him—and beg forgiveness—Amy had to swallow her pride. But she’d have done anything, just to be less ashamed facing him. One morning, while Mark was in the bathroom, Amy started cleaning the living room. She went to get his old canvas bag from the balcony, which he still hadn’t bothered to take out. Amy pulled it, and the side pocket split open. Out fell its contents—old receipts, guitar picks… and a handful of trinkets she mistook for rubbish. But they weren’t rubbish. There were her blue topaz earrings, lost for good, she’d thought. And finally—it was there: her bracelet. The one Sophie had “stolen.” “Mark…” “I’ll explain,” he was already standing behind her. “What will you explain? You nicked it and couldn’t sell it?” “I was going to give them back…” Needless to say, Mark was sent packing that very day. But Amy was more worried about Sophie not answering her calls, about needing to apologise. “I know you don’t want to see me,” Amy said, showing up at Sophie’s door, “But I have to say this.” Sophie stood in her dressing gown. “I never stole from you.” “I know. I’m so sorry, Soph. It was Mark. I found the bracelet in his bag—he must have wanted to sell it. He admitted to selling the ring, too. How could I believe it was just coincidence that you got a bracelet just like mine?” “You could have believed me, not coincidence. But you believed Mark, didn’t you? Why? Is it because I’m poorer, so I must be the thief? No, I don’t need a friend like that. Tomorrow you’ll file a report on me for stealing. Why would I want that? Go home.”

Loyal Friendship

– I envy you, Grace. Honestly. I really do.

I was genuinely taken aback by Williams words. His envy seemed out of place

– Are you serious? – I asked, – What is it exactly that you envy? Do you remember my last relationship? That went nowhere, and this current one isnt much better Ive got no luck with men. Whats there to envy?

William shook his head, and the light glimmered through his unruly hair.

– Its not about the blokes. Youve got fantastic parents, Grace. You know? Good ones. Theyve never shouted at you, never staggered home drunk so you had to drag them upstairs. And now, theyve even given you a flat.

– Will

But William was on a roll.

– My parents – he paused, searching for words, – My whole life, theyve been drinking. At first, it was just winding down after work, then its the stress, and now its just hopeless. On top of that, Im saddled with loans they keep taking out to fix thingsyeah, right. When I see your mum ringing just to ask how you are, I feel like I was born unlucky

I wanted to comfort him, but his biting envy made me uncomfortable. Mates shouldnt envy each other.

– Well, you cant choose your family, can you? – I muttered.

Truth be told, things hadnt all gone my way either.

Love never seemed to work out for me.

My first serious boyfriend, Daniel, who swore we were two halves of one soul, left me after three years. And not gracefully either: he married someone else.

Once Daniel was out of my life, I vowed to just live and let love find menot chasing after it. I didnt chase, but the next man, Oliver, ended up in my lap. He too, like Daniel, seemed golden to begin with, then showed his real selfsloppy and selfish.

Once again, hed forgotten to lock the flat door! His shoes tossed in the hallway, one left across the passage, another lurking by the loo.

– Hello, – I mumbled.

Oliver shook his head, pushing back his messy fringe.

– Oh, finally, – he grumbled, – Listen, I need to put money on my bank card urgently. Can you transfer some? Ill pay you back, promise.

I dropped my bagsame old story.

– Oliver, we agreedremember? I have to pay for the broadband and I wanted to get real meat for dinner, not your bargain-bin sausages.

– Meat can wait, Grace! Just £20, come on. Ill repay you.

– Alright. But thats the last £20 youll get till payday. And dont forget about the internet billyoull sort it yourself after this.

Soon, suspicions began to creep in.

First, a ring went missing. Not my engagement ringthats a story for another daybut a slim gold band with a dull little amethyst. I always kept it in the same place.

– Will, do you remember when I last wore my ring? – I asked one evening over tea.

– No, Grace. Sorry Not seen it? Maybe you lost it out and about?

– Im not sure. I saw it last weekend. Oliver was rummaging in the wardrobe, might have knocked it

– Oliver? He goes nosing about your cupboard?

– Well, yes, he does live here now.

The next loss hit harder. My old, but still working, mobile phone. I kept it as a sparefor sketchy online sign-ups or whenever the delivery man needed a phone number. Always stashed away in my desk drawer.

I checked three times, top to bottom.

– Oliver, have you seen my old mobile?

– What do you need that for? – Oliver didnt even look up, – You dont use it. Probably chucked it by accident.

His casual attitude set alarm bells ringing. Way too blasé.

Then I began to notice my purse felt lighter, money missing now and then. And other things tooa pack of expensive batteries Id bought for the kitchen scales disappeared. Nothing big in itself, but together? It painted an ugly picture.

– Look, William, – I started, swirling the milk into my coffee, – Its easy to lose things if youre rushing

– I know, – William said, grimacing at his strong tea, – The other day I spent three days searching for my umbrella, only to find it hanging on the kitchen chair

– Exactly. But, would you ever, suppose you desperately needed cash, take something not very valuable from a matejust planning to return it later?

William stared at me, shocked.

– What are you on about, Grace? Did you nick something?

– No, not me. I mean hypothetically. Say you need to buy a concert ticket but youve no money. Your friends jewellery box has a ring she wears only once a year.

William pondered deeply

– In theory? Id pick up a side job, flog my own stuff. I wouldnt touch anybody elses things. Thats stealing. Even borrowed stealing.

– And if it was your boyfriend, not a mate? – I pressed, watching for his reaction.

He hesitated.

– If a boyfriend starts taking my things without askinghes not my boyfriend anymore. If hes stealingthen hes a thief. Thats it. And nicking from your own is just vile. Grace, is Oliver stealing from you?

I confessed my worries.

– Ask him straight out, – William advised, – Watch his reaction.

– Just like that?

– Whats to lose? If hes honest, hell be offended but explain. If hes lying youll see it. Better to know right away.

Yes, I ought to. If he lied, it would show. I tried not to hurt Olivers feelings, but he snapped:

– Are you mad? What things? Seriously. So you lose things and now Im the villain? – Oliver didnt admit it. He shouted, huffed, emptied his bags theatrically to prove he hadnt pinched anything.

That evening he left to see a mate, drinking and moaning about me all night. The next day, I felt I needed to talk to William.

I called him at lunchtime.

– William, hi. Mind if I pop over? Need to get things off my chest about Oliver. He

– Grace, Im busy, – William interrupted, – Things to do. Lets talk later?

– Just for a minute!

– Alright, but just a minute.

Id upset Oliver out of nowhere. Would he come back now? Can you forgive such an accusation? William listened quietly, nodding occasionally, but kept glancing away. I finished, hoping for sympathy.

– And he left! See?

William, clearly in a hurry and half-ready to head out, checked his watch, and thats when I caught sight of his wrista silver bracelet exactly like the one Id lost.

– Are you kidding? – I gasped, – Was it you?

– What do you mean me? – William drew back.

– Youre going to say your cousin gave you that bracelet, right? Ill bet. So you got jealous and started nicking my stuff, blaming Oliver! Nice going And you even wore it where I could see!

William glanced between my face and his wrist

– Its not yours – he stammered, – Grace, weve known each other since nursery. This isnt your bracelet! I got it as a giftI can prove it!

– Save it. Keep the bracelet. That can be your consolation for being such a born loser.

I spent a week in total silence. Oliver never came back. Finding him and begging him to forgive me was humiliating. But Id have done anything, no matter how mortifying, just not to feel so ashamed in front of him.

One morning, while Oliver was in the shower and I decided to start a proper clean-up of the lounge, I went out onto the balcony to fetch his old canvas baghed never bothered to throw it away. As I yanked it, the side pocket split at the seam.

Its contents spilled outold receipts, plectrums and a handful of small items I first took for rubbish.

But it wasnt rubbish.

There were my earrings with blue topaz, the pair Id marked as lost forever. And, at last, my bracelet. The same bracelet I accused William of stealing.

– Oliver

– I can explain, – suddenly he was right behind me.

– Whats to explain? You pocketed them, only didnt get round to selling?

– Id have returned it

Needless to say, Oliver was out the door that same day. But he hardly troubled me anymore. My real worry was that William wouldnt return my callsapologies needed making.

– I know you dont want to see me, – I said, showing up at his flat, – But I have to say this.

William stood in his dressing gown.

– I never stole your things.

– I know. And I owe you a huge apology, Will. It was Oliver. I found the bracelet in his baghe was probably planning to sell it. He admitted to selling my ring too. Will, how could I believe in such a coincidence, another bracelet just like mine?

– You could have believed me, rather than jumping to conclusions. You believed Oliver straight away. Why am I less trustworthy? Just because Im skint, Im a thief? No, I dont need a friend like that. Next you’ll be filing chargeswhats the point? Go home.

And so I learned, painfully, that suspicion can poison the best friendships. Its easy to let jealousy cloud your judgment, but trust once lost is hard to regain. Next time, Ill choose my wordsand who I blamemuch more carefully.

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Loyal Friendship Betrayed “I envy you, Amy. Honestly. I really do.” Amy was taken aback. The idea of Sophie envying her seemed absurd… “Are you serious?” Amy asked. “Exactly what do you envy? Do you remember what happened with my last relationship? And this one isn’t exactly heavenly either… I never have much luck with guys… What’s there to envy?” Sophie shook her head, sunlight glinting off her hair. “It’s not about boys, Amy. You’ve got amazing parents. You know? Amazing. They’ve never shouted at you. Never got so drunk that you had to drag them home. And now, look—they’ve given you a flat.” “Soph…” But Sophie wasn’t done. “And mine…” Sophie paused, searching for words. “Mine have always drunk. At first it was ‘just to relax after work,’ then it was ‘just stress,’ and now… now it’s hopeless. Not to mention the loans I’m stuck with because they think it’ll fix things. Sure. I watch your mum call just to ask how you’re feeling, and I realise I was born unlucky…” You’d want to offer comfort, but Mila felt unsettled by that sharp—what seemed to her—“envy.” Friends shouldn’t envy each other. “What can you do?” Amy shrugged. “We can’t pick our parents.” Amy hadn’t been lucky in everything, either. Unlucky in love. Her first serious boyfriend, Tom, who swore they were “one soul,” dumped her after three years—for another woman, no less. After Tom, Amy decided just to live. Love would come on its own, if she didn’t chase it. She didn’t, but then met Mark. At first kind, then his real self—a scatterbrain and a selfish bloke. He forgot to lock the flat door again! Shoes in the hallway, one just tossed sideways, the other by the bathroom. “Hey,” Amy said. Mark shook his shaggy hair. “Oh, finally,” he grumbled. “Listen, I need to transfer money to my card. Can you do it? You can, right? I’ll pay you back.” Amy dropped her bag. Same old song. “Mark, we talked about this. I need to pay for internet, and I planned to buy real meat instead of your mystery sausages.” “Meat can wait, Amy! Come on, just two hundred. I’ll pay you back.” “Alright. But it’s the last two hundred until your advance. And don’t forget about the internet. You can pay for that yourself.” Soon Amy began to suspect things. First, her ring went missing. Not the engagement ring (her history with those wasn’t simple), but a delicate gold band with a dull amethyst. It always stayed in the same place. “Soph, do you remember where I last wore my ring?” Amy asked one night over tea. “No, Ames. No idea… Not at home? Maybe you lost it somewhere?” “I don’t know. I saw it last weekend. Mark was moving stuff in the wardrobe, maybe he knocked it…” “Mark? He goes through your wardrobe?” Sophie squinted. “Well, yeah, he lives here now.” The next loss stung more. An old, but functioning mobile. Amy used it as a backup, for dodgy online registrations or as a courier number. It lay in her desk drawer. Amy searched three times. “Mark, did you see my old phone?” “What do you need it for?” Mark didn’t even look over. “You never use it. Probably tossed it out by accident.” His casualness triggered alarm bells. Too casual. Amy started noticing missing money from her wallet. Little things disappeared again. A pack of expensive batteries meant for her scales. All small, not worth much on their own, but together painting an unpleasant picture. “Soph, listen—” Amy said, stirring her coffee. “You know how easy it is to misplace things…” “I do,” Sophie sipped her tea and grimaced, “Spent three days looking for my umbrella—it was hanging on my chair the whole time…” “Right. But would you… let’s say you needed cash badly—would you ever take something from a mate, something not very valuable, just to return it later?” Sophie looked at her, surprised. “What are you saying, Ames? Did you nick something?” “Not me. Just a hypothetical. Imagine you need concert tickets, and your friend’s got a ring in her jewellery box she never wears.” Sophie thought hard… “Theoretically? I’d get a temp gig, sell something of mine. I wouldn’t touch my mate’s stuff. That’s stealing—even if you pretend it’s ‘just for now.’” “And what if it’s not your mate but your boyfriend?” Amy pressed, gauging Sophie’s reaction. Sophie hesitated. “If my boyfriend started taking my things, he’d no longer be my boyfriend. If he steals—he’s a thief. End of. And stealing from your own? That’s just… wrong. Ames, is Mark stealing from you?” Amy admitted her suspicions. “Just ask him outright,” Sophie advised. “Watch his reaction.” “Just… ask directly?” “What have you got to lose?” Sophie replied. “If he’s innocent, he’s will be offended and explain. If he’s lying… well, you already suspect. Better know the truth.” Yes, maybe it was time to ask. If he lies, it’ll show. Amy tried not to hurt Mark’s feelings, but he blew up: “Are you nuts? What things? Great, now you’re blaming me because you can’t keep track of your stuff?” Mark denied it. Shouted. Fumed. Even tipped out all his bags to prove he hadn’t hidden anything. But confessed nothing. That evening he left to drink with his mate and moan about Amy. The next day, Amy decided she needed to talk to Sophie. She rang at lunchtime. “Sophie, hi. Can I come over? I need to vent about Mark. He…” “Amy, I can’t,” Sophie cut her off. “Got stuff going on. Talk tonight?” “Just for a minute!” “Alright, just for a minute.” Amy had upset her boyfriend, out of nowhere. Would he come back? Can you be forgiven for something like this? Sophie listened in silence, nodding, but her eyes kept drifting away. Finally, Amy finished, waiting for sympathy. “…And he left! You see?” Sophie, who’d been about to go out before Amy arrived, replied: “Congrats, Amy. If he ran, he’s guilty.” “Thanks for the support,” Amy snapped. “And what about you? You seem distant.” Sophie hadn’t talked about her new work romance, and now wasn’t the time. She checked her watch, but Amy caught her hand. The bracelet—exactly like the silver one Amy had lost recently. “Seriously?” Amy gasped. “So it’s you?” “What do you mean, me?” Sophie pulled away. “Let me guess, you’ll say your cousin gave you the bracelet, right? So you got jealous, started nicking my stuff behind my back. And blaming Mark! Great friend… You even wore my bracelet!” Sophie glanced between Amy and the bracelet… “This isn’t yours…” she stammered. “Ames, you’ve known me since nursery. It’s not yours! I got it as a present! I can prove it!” “Don’t bother. Keep it. Might be a small comfort—you called yourself an unlucky loser.” A week of total silence passed. Mark didn’t come back. To find him—and beg forgiveness—Amy had to swallow her pride. But she’d have done anything, just to be less ashamed facing him. One morning, while Mark was in the bathroom, Amy started cleaning the living room. She went to get his old canvas bag from the balcony, which he still hadn’t bothered to take out. Amy pulled it, and the side pocket split open. Out fell its contents—old receipts, guitar picks… and a handful of trinkets she mistook for rubbish. But they weren’t rubbish. There were her blue topaz earrings, lost for good, she’d thought. And finally—it was there: her bracelet. The one Sophie had “stolen.” “Mark…” “I’ll explain,” he was already standing behind her. “What will you explain? You nicked it and couldn’t sell it?” “I was going to give them back…” Needless to say, Mark was sent packing that very day. But Amy was more worried about Sophie not answering her calls, about needing to apologise. “I know you don’t want to see me,” Amy said, showing up at Sophie’s door, “But I have to say this.” Sophie stood in her dressing gown. “I never stole from you.” “I know. I’m so sorry, Soph. It was Mark. I found the bracelet in his bag—he must have wanted to sell it. He admitted to selling the ring, too. How could I believe it was just coincidence that you got a bracelet just like mine?” “You could have believed me, not coincidence. But you believed Mark, didn’t you? Why? Is it because I’m poorer, so I must be the thief? No, I don’t need a friend like that. Tomorrow you’ll file a report on me for stealing. Why would I want that? Go home.”
Efter att jag fött min dotter och blivit ensam med henne, gav mina föräldrar mig först ett fantastiskt stöd. Men deras nuvarande beteende är helt otroligt.