“My Best Friend of 37 Years Asked Me to Take One LAST Photo Together on Vacation—As Friends. When I Asked Why ‘Last,’ She Smiled and Said, ‘Because Tomorrow You’ll Find Out Who I Really Am…’”

Then I reached one sentence in the letter and stopped.

I didn’t want to continue.

But I already knew.

The thing I was terrified of seeing was written in the next few lines.

Michael and Susan had been having an affair.

Not once.

Not one accidental mistake.

It had lasted almost eight months.

I threw the letter onto the floor.

The first thing I felt wasn’t even anger.

It was disbelief.

Susan?

The girl who had gotten into a fight when we were twelve because someone at school had insulted me?

The woman who stood beside me at my  wedding?

The woman who held me when I lost my first baby?

The woman who sat beside me all night at the hospital when Michael had heart surgery?

She had known all along?

I grabbed my phone and called her.

It was turned off.