But then—the anger lessens.
It softens.
But it’s still there. Not gone.
Never gone.
Because how could he?
But I feel it shift.
Because after all this time I think I get it.
And that might be the worst part.
Because Paul didn’t just lie to me.
He lied to Benji.
To his best friend.
To a man who trusted him with everything—including me.
And Benji?
He loved him.
Not like he loved me.
But in that brotherhood way.
That soldier way.
That I’d die for you kind of way.
I swallow hard.
“So yeah,” I whisper. “Of course you believed him.”
Because what was the alternative?
That his best friend was a manipulative piece of shit who faked evidence?
That everything he thought he knew about one of the closest people in his life was a lie?
That’s a hard pill to swallow.
Maybe too hard.
My chest aches.
“But did you love him more than me?” I ask the empty room, my voice breaking just a little.
Because that’s the part I can’t let go of.
That’s the part that still hurts.
Still burns.
