Everything began a few months ago when my best friend and I started planning our dream trip – an adventure we had both longed for over many years. We excitedly discussed every little detail: from the destination and activities to the unforgettable moments we would create together. The itinerary was carefully mapped out, money was meticulously saved – everything was perfect.

But just a week before our departure, I received a message from her. A short line, yet it weighed on my heart like a rock:

> “I’m sorry… but I don’t have enough money right now. I’m really sad, but I think I have to cancel.”

I was speechless. All those expectations, all that excitement, suddenly turned into emptiness. I tried to be understanding, replying that I knew financial issues could be tough – but deep down, I felt uneasy. She had never mentioned anything about money problems during the past few months. Was it really just a bad month? I even offered to cover part of the cost because, to me, the most important thing was that we went together. But she declined, saying it “wasn’t the right time.”

I tried not to dwell on it, but my gut kept gnawing at me.

Then, a few days later, I saw something I never expected: a photo she posted on social media. She was at the airport, suitcase in hand, a radiant smile on her face. Next to her was someone else – a new friend. And it was clear they were on the very trip she and I had planned.

I couldn’t breathe. The feeling of betrayal overwhelmed me. What had she said? That she didn’t have enough money? That she couldn’t go? So why was she there now… with someone else?

I texted her, not even knowing where to start. I simply asked, “What’s going on?” But she didn’t reply. I called. When she finally answered, her voice was still cheerful, as if nothing had happened:

> “I’m in such a beautiful place. I can’t wait to tell you all about it!”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

> “You told me you didn’t have enough money, but now you’re on the trip – with someone else. Can you explain?”

There was a long pause. Then she sighed:

> “I didn’t think you’d understand. I had already planned this with someone else a while ago… I didn’t know how to say no to you without hurting you.”

I felt a sharp pain in my chest.

> “So instead of being honest, you lied? You let me believe it was about money, then disappeared and went with someone else?”

She hesitated, her voice growing softer.

> “I’m sorry… I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want to lose anyone.”

But in doing so, she lost me.

I ended the call, not wanting to say anything more. But I knew I couldn’t let this go easily. When she returned, I asked to meet – not to make peace, but to demand the explanation I deserved.

At the café that day, she arrived late. The sun still lingered on her skin, her smile still bright – completely opposite of how I felt.

> “I need to understand. Why did you do it? Why didn’t you tell the truth?”

She lowered her head, her voice full of remorse:

> “I was afraid you’d be angry. I didn’t want to hurt you… but I ended up doing something worse.”

> “You didn’t just hurt me. You broke my trust. If you couldn’t be honest about something this simple, how can I ever trust you again?”

She began to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and for a moment, I saw genuine regret in her eyes.

> “I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry. I know I was wrong.”

I stayed silent. A part of me wanted to forgive, to go back to how we were. But the other part… the one that was hurt, betrayed… it wouldn’t let go so easily.

I stood up and said quietly:

> “I need time. I’m not sure this can be healed. But if it can, I’ll let you know.”

In the days that followed, I was awash in mixed emotions. Pain. Longing. Anger. I tried to avoid social media, but I accidentally came across a photo of her and her new friend. The caption read:

> “Can’t imagine life without you.”

My heart clenched.

I texted her:

> “So you’ve already replaced me.”

Her reply came quickly:

> “I never meant to make you feel that way. You still matter to me. But I understand if you can’t forgive me.”

I held the phone for a long time. I missed her – missed the friend who once laughed with me until we couldn’t breathe, who stayed up all night talking about our dreams. But now, I’m no longer sure if that dream was still ours. Maybe it’s time I learned to walk on my own. Not because I can’t forgive, but because I need to learn how to love myself first – and never let anyone make me feel like a second choice again.

**Maybe one day, I’ll forgive. But not today.**