Enjoying dinner and cocktails with my best friend Kelly, we reminisced about our school days. We couldn’t help laughing about how we’d been inseparable aged 14 and, all these years later, we were still the same.
As teenagers, we’d shared everything, from secrets to clothes. We tried out hairstyles and make-up together, and confided in each other about our boyfriend dilemmas.
With our petite figures, brunette locks and shared love of science, people used to say we were like twins. As years had passed, our lives had run parallel, too. We both studied scientific degrees at university before embarking on successful biomedical-engineering careers.
Now it was early 2013 and, living near each other, we chatted on the phone most days and met up every weekend.
I always loved hearing her news but, as she told me about her new boyfriend, I found myself forcing a smile.
With a jolt, I realised that I was jealous – not because I wanted to be in a relationship too, but because I didn’t want to share Kelly with anyone.
As the months passed, I found myself looking at Kelly differently. Having only previously dated men, I came to realise that I’d been denying my true feelings.
The truth was that Kelly was smart, beautiful and ambitious – everything I wanted in a partner. But of course it wasn’t that simple because not only was she now in a relationship, she was also my best friend of two decades.
When Kelly broke up with her boyfriend weeks later, it hurt to see her upset but secretly I was relieved.
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