Best friends since college, Mia and I were inseparable. We shared everything — secrets, dreams, heartbreaks, and even boyfriends we both agreed were terrible ideas at 2 a.m. So when she told me she was going on a two-week solo trip to Europe to “find herself,” I was excited for her.
Before leaving, she gave me a key to her apartment to water the plants, check the mail, and make sure everything stayed in order while she was gone.
“No parties, no drama, just basic stuff,” she said with a wink.
I promised I’d take care of it.
At first, I did exactly what I was supposed to do. Watering the plants, feeding her cat Luna, collecting packages. But after a few days, curiosity got the better of me.
I told myself I was just checking if anything was out of place. But soon, I found myself snooping through her drawers, flipping through old journals, even reading messages she had left on her phone.
And that’s when I found it.
A letter addressed to me, tucked inside a shoebox under her bed. It was handwritten, sealed, and labeled: “To Mia’s Best Friend – Open Only If You’re Wondering Why I Left.”
My hands shook as I opened it.
In the letter, she wrote about how she had started feeling like I was moving on without her. She talked about missed calls, short replies, and how I had begun spending more time with my new boyfriend than with her. She didn’t blame me — not really. She just said she needed space to figure things out before we drifted apart completely.
I felt sick.
That night, I sat on her couch, staring at the walls lined with our photos, remembering all the times we swore nothing would come between us. And here I was, betraying her trust from inside her own home.
The next day, I stopped snooping. I went back to just watering the plants and feeding Luna. But guilt followed me everywhere.
When she came back, I wanted to tell her everything — but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I acted normal. Happy to see her. Excited to hear about her trip.
She hugged me tightly and said, “I missed you so much.”
I whispered, “I missed you too.”
But deep down, I knew I had broken something that could never be fully fixed.
Years later, we’re still friends. Not best friends anymore — life pulled us in different directions. But sometimes, when I see her name pop up on my phone or catch a glimpse of an old photo, I still wonder:
If I had been honest back then… would we still be close today?