Chapter 1
My husband, Zack Lynn, had a childhood friend, Bella Summers, who used the "one of the guys" act to monopolize his time and attention.
When I called her out, she sneered, "If I wanted him, I'd have made my move years ago. You never would have stood a chance."
Her friends all jumped to her defense, saying I was paranoid.
I smiled. Then I called in my male bestie. I beat them at their own game.
Eventually, Bella broke down sobbing in the dead of night. "Anne, you play dirty."
And my husband? He begged me to come home, his eyes red from crying. "Anne, I was blind."
*****
It was the third time that night, around eleven, when Zack got a call from Bella. I was in the bathroom, applying a face mask.
He didn't bother to hide it. His phone was sitting on the coffee table.
Bella's signature loud voice blasted out of the speaker, sounding extra cheerful on purpose. "Zack, come on over. We're all at the usual spot, just waiting for you. Don't tell me you're gonna bail on us for your wife.
"You're not the type to ditch your friends for her."
Zack glanced at me instinctively.
I stared back at him, expressionless behind the sheet mask.
He hesitated for a couple of seconds, then said into the phone, "It's too late tonight. Let's do it another time."
"Seriously, when did you start dragging your feet?" Bella's voice climbed another notch. A chorus of male voices whooped and hollered behind her.
Bella continued, "It's just the bros hanging out. I'm basically one of the guys, so what's the problem? Anne's not so insecure that she'd get jealous over a buddy, right? If she does, I'm totally gonna roast her."
That really struck a nerve with me.
Zack glanced at me again, his look saying loud and clear, "See? With Bella saying that, if I don't go, it'll make you look petty."
"I'll swing by. Right back." He grabbed his keys, voice as casual as if he were stepping out to take out the trash.
I didn't say a word.
As soon as the door closed behind him, I ripped off the mask and tossed it in the trash. Staring at my face in the mirror, shining from all that serum, I suddenly felt like the whole thing was a joke on me.
I was Anne Ludwig, twenty-eight, married for two years.
Zack was a year above me in college. He was clean-cut, gentle, and now a project manager at an architecture firm.
Three years dating, two years married. Five years total. Not a lifetime, but more than enough to see one truth clearly. In his heart, someone always took priority over me. That someone was Bella.
Bella was Zack's high school classmate. As he always said, they grew up together and have always been tight.
Bella worked in marketing at a sports brand, kept her hair short, lived in track suits, talked loudly and roughly, chugged beer straight from the bottle, and could throw her arm around anyone like they were old pals.
The first time we met, she slapped my shoulder hard. "Hey, Anne. I'm Bella, Zack's best bro. Don't worry, I'm not girly at all. I am like one of the guys. I won't give you any trouble."
Back then, I actually believed her.
Looking back now, I wished I could go back in time and slap myself silly.
Bella took her role as Zack's "best bro" to a whole new level.
On Zack's birthday, she was always the first to post on social media, with a picture of the two of them and a caption like: [Happy birthday to my truest bro. He is still the same boy I knew way back when.]
My birthday post as Zack's wife was overshadowed by hers.
When Zack worked late, Bella would claim she was passing by and drop off late-night food for him.
Passing by? She lived way up north, we lived down south, forty minutes by car. That was hardly on her way.
Whenever Zack was feeling down, Bella was always the first to pick up on it. Then she'd ask him out for a bro talk, and they'd end up drinking till two or three in the morning.
Even on our wedding day, as one of Zack's closest friends, Bella showed up in a cream-colored dress, the kind that was a shade off from white. She linked arms with Zack the whole time, smiling more brightly than I was, the bride.
When it was time for toasts, she jumped in front of Zack and drank several rounds for him, slapping the table and shouting, "This is my bro's wedding. If anyone tries to get him drunk, they'll have to answer to me."
Some guests whispered, "Why is the groom's friend acting more like the bride than the bride herself?"
I heard them.
Zack heard them, too. But he simply laughed. "That's just Bella. She's always been a tomboy. Don't read too much into it."
"Don't read too much into it." That was the line I heard most in my marriage.
At first, I tried to be the cool wife. I kept telling myself, everyone had a past, everyone had childhood friends, and I shouldn't sweat the small stuff.
Bella kept saying she was one of the guys, so I tried to take her word for it.
But gradually, I realized it wasn't that simple.