Frankenstein of friendship

It was the day before the holiday. Annie was on her way back to her hometown, filled with eager anticipation of reuniting with her lifelong friends—a married couple she had known for as long as she could remember. She had carefully selected gifts for them and their children, each chosen with love and thoughtfulness. These people felt like family to her, and she believed their feelings for her were just as warm and genuine.

Annie had left the town when she went off to college. After graduating successfully, she focused on building her career. Marriage and a family hadn’t happened yet, but she didn’t despair. Instead, she embraced her love of travel and had explored nearly the entire world by this point.

Margaret and her husband lived in a big house with enough space for everyone to stay overnight. Margaret had been Annie’s closest friend since childhood. Their bond had weathered many storms, and Annie had always stood by Margaret, even when Margaret’s parents disowned her for marrying young. Against all odds, the marriage had lasted, and the couple had recently celebrated their 20th anniversary. They already had five children. Margaret’s husband came from a modest family where higher education wasn’t common, but he worked hard to provide for his family. Margaret had also left college to care for their children but found a creative outlet in decorating cakes and cookies.

When the guests gathered, the party turned out to be lively, with about 25 people, including kids and neighbors. The festive atmosphere buzzed with energy as everyone exchanged news and enjoyed each other’s company. Yet Annie couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease, as though something heavy lingered in the air. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it kept her from fully relaxing.

Later, someone suggested stepping out onto the porch to get some fresh air. Margaret, her kids, and a few neighbours started tidying up the table. Annie excused herself for a moment, but as she returned, she accidentally overheard a fragment of a conversation.

“Get that tramp out of our house,” a male voice growled venomously. “She’s blatantly flirting with me.”

Annie froze in her tracks, stunned by what she was hearing.

“What are you talking about?” Margaret protested. “I haven’t seen her do anything like that.”

“Are you going to take her side over your husband’s?” he pressed. “Look at her! Of course, she looks great—she doesn’t have a bunch of kids to clean up after or a household to manage.”

A sharp, bitter voice cut in. “Oh, she’s glowing all right, pretty as a picture…”

Annie barely recognized the voice as Margaret’s. It sounded so alien and harsh.

“I warned you this would happen,” Margaret’s mother added coldly. “You have only yourself to blame for how you look.”

“You’re the prettiest, Mom!” one of the children chimed in. “Let’s make her leave!”

“She’s lying about everything,” Margaret snapped. “And she’s throwing herself at my husband—I know it. He told me so himself.”

“Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?” a neighbor interjected cautiously.

“She lives off her mother’s money!” Margaret continued, dismissing any attempt to defend Annie. “No kids, no husband, and she just throws gifts around, trying to buy everyone’s affection!”

“Margaret, stop it,” her mother warned.

But Margaret wasn’t listening. It was as if years of pent-up envy and resentment had suddenly exploded.

“...No kids, no husband. Living in a house her mom gave her. And now she’s eyeing someone else’s man! Trying to destroy what isn’t hers. My husband says she needs to go. She should pack up and leave, go back where she came from,” Margaret ranted.

“Your husband’s a known lunatic,” Margaret’s mother shot back. “He’d chase anyone out, including you and your kids. His opinion isn’t worth listening to. Don’t forget how he threw you out of town with a baby in your arms, calling you all kinds of names. And now he’s just a thief—stealing...”

She trailed off as silence fell over the group.

Annie stood rooted to the spot, listening in disbelief. The words coming from Margaret and her husband tore at her heart. This wasn’t the Margaret she had known and trusted. It felt like everything they had shared over the years had crumbled in an instant.

The guests began to trickle back inside. Annie quickly composed herself, pretending she hadn’t heard anything. As she entered the room, she caught a glimpse of a triumphant smirk on Margaret’s husband’s face. It was the final straw. Glancing at the clock, Annie hurried to call for a cab.

Once in the car, Annie couldn’t hold back her tears. Where was the loyal friend who had always been like a sister to her?

Instead, she had faced a woman consumed by jealousy, bitterness, and spite. Annie had never imagined their friendship could turn into something so toxic. She had once looked up to Margaret’s family as an example of love and devotion, but the reality was far from it.

The memories of their childhood together flooded Annie’s mind as the cab sped through the night. She and Margaret had shared so much—their secrets, their dreams, their fears. They had promised each other that their friendship would last forever. But where had it all gone wrong? Had Margaret changed over the years, or had Annie simply failed to notice the cracks?

When she arrived at her hotel, Annie tried to push the memories aside. She wanted to forget the entire evening, but it was impossible. The words she had overheard were seared into her mind. She realized she could never go back to how things were before. Their friendship was gone, and all that was left was the bitter feeling of betrayal.

The next morning, Annie woke up with a heavy heart. She tried to distract herself by going about her day. She had coffee at a cozy café, wandered through the streets of her old town, and visited a bookstore she had always loved. But everywhere she went, she was haunted by the events of the previous night. At the bookstore, she picked up a postcard and began to write:

“Margaret,

Last night changed everything. I wanted to believe that we would always be close, no matter the distance or life’s challenges. But I realize now that we’ve grown apart in ways we can’t fix. Your pain and your choices have created a wall between us.

I don’t blame you for your anger or envy, but I can’t keep holding on to a friendship without respect or honesty.

Goodbye,

Annie.”

She put down the pen, but she couldn’t bring herself to send the postcard. It remained on the counter as she paid for her purchases and left.

Later that day, Annie decided to cut her trip short. She booked an early train back to the city and spent the journey in quiet reflection. She made an important decision: to cut all ties with Margaret and move on with her life

……

In the following days, her colleagues noticed a change in her. Annie threw herself into her work with renewed focus, but her usual bright smile seemed more reserved. When a friend asked if she wanted to talk, she simply said, “It’s just an old memory I had to leave behind.”

But the experience had left its mark. Annie began to reevaluate her relationships, understanding how significant it was to surround herself with people who brought positivity and support into her life. She signed up for classes she’d been putting off and started volunteering at a local organization.

Months later, while scrolling through social media, Annie stumbled across a picture of Margaret and her family. They were smiling, but Annie could sense there was more beneath the surface. “Happiness for the camera,” she thought. It didn’t stir any anger or regret—just a hint of sadness. She closed the app and, for the first time in a while, felt truly free.

Annie had learned an important lesson: people don’t always remain as we remember them, and sometimes the best way to honour yourself is to let go of those who no longer bring joy into your life.