I Married My Friend's Ex-Boyfriend

I loved him quietly

a secret carved deep inside my chest,

a flame flickering in shadows where no one could see.

I loved James, though my heart was tangled in the roots of friendship too.

Every time he appeared,my pulse betrayed me with a jealous rhythm,

while his eyes danced only on Ivry’s smile.

They had been together since secondary school , James and Ivry. It was the kind of romance people admired back then: sweet, loud, and constantly talked about. Everyone thought they'd end up together. And maybe they would have, if life didn’t twist things the way it did.

Ivry and I gained admission into the same university. James, however, went to a different one, a couple of states away. They promised each other they’d make it work , long distance and all. I tried to be happy for them. I really did. But deep down, I longed to be the one he called first when something exciting happened. I wished he’d laugh at my jokes the way he laughed at hers.

We all stayed in touch, of course. But James started reaching out to me more often. He'd call me whenever Ivry ignored him or picked fights. I was always there , listening, advising, calming him down. It became routine. And slowly, the boundary between being a good friend and something else started to blur.

One weekend, Ivry came back from school unusually giddy. Her smile was too wide, her phone constantly buzzing. At first, I thought maybe James had done something sweet again — he was that kind of guy. But soon, it became clear she was hiding something.

“I met someone,” she whispered to me one evening in our hostel room. She had this dreamy look in her eyes. “What do you mean you met someone?” I asked carefully, pretending not to understand. She waved her hand. “You won’t get it. It’s different with him. I just… I feel things I never felt with James.” “But you’re still dating James.” She rolled her eyes. “Long distance is hard, abeg. And honestly, James is too soft. Too nice. I need someone that excites me.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “He doesn’t deserve this, Ivry. If you’re done, just let him go. Don’t string him along.”

“Look, I didn’t ask for a lecture,” she snapped. “Mind your business.”I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her she was selfish. But instead, I nodded and swallowed my words. That night, I stayed up scrolling through James’ Instagram stories, wondering if he had any clue what was going on. He didn’t. He was still posting about her, still referring to her as “my queen.”

Weeks passed. The situation got worse. Ivry barely took his calls. When she did, it always ended in fights. I continued to be the middle person, the peacemaker torn between loyalty and love.Then, one night, James called. His voice was low, defeated. “She broke up with me.” I didn’t know what to say. My heart should have ached for him, but instead, it fluttered with guilt and relief. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“I don’t get what I did wrong,” he murmured. “I gave her everything.” You did, James. You really did. After that, we talked more often. He would ask how I was, how school was going, and even tell me about the new things he was learning in his course. It was different now. We were bonding — really bonding. Months passed. He visited our city, and we met up for lunch. It felt normal. Too normal. He smiled differently at me. I could feel the air shift between us. I tried to act cool, but inside, I was trembling.

One evening, we walked home from a restaurant, and he suddenly stopped and looked at me. “You’ve always been there, you know?” he said. I laughed nervously. “That’s what friends are for.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s more than that.”

We didn’t kiss that day. But we didn’t have to. The silence said enough.

Eventually, we started dating.

At first, it felt surreal , like I'd stepped into a dream I never thought would be mine. James was gentle, attentive, and thoughtful in ways that made me question if he had always been this way, or if I had just been blind to it all along. We kept it low at first. I was scared of what Ivry might say. Even though she had moved on happily, it seemed there was a guilt that clung to me.

But James? He made it easy to forget the whispers. The way he held my hand like he’d been waiting for it, the way he looked at me ,not past me , made it harder to regret.

He said things like, "You were always there. I just didn’t see it then." And every time he said that, I wondered if fate had planned it all along.

Still, the shadow of the past lingered.

When Ivry found out, she didn’t explode. She laughed a bitter, empty laugh I can still hear in my head. “So, you waited for me to finish with him, huh?” she said one day over the phone.

“No, it wasn’t like that…” I tried to explain. But how do you convince someone it’s love and not betrayal?

I had warned her back then when she was treating James like an afterthought, when I begged her not to keep hurting the poor boy. She’d dismissed me like I was being dramatic. “He’ll be fine. He’s too soft,” she had said. Now that softness had become my safe space. We tried to move on.

James and I built something real , something steady. Not just romance, but partnership. We grew together, shared dreams, supported each other’s small wins and big worries. We got married in a quiet ceremony. No drama, no chaos. Just peace.

But even as I smiled in my gown, there was a small ache. I thought of Ivry, how once upon a time, we swore we’d be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings. Now she wasn’t even invited to mine. And yet, I couldn’t undo the path that brought me here.

I chose love. Maybe it was messy. Maybe it wasn't ideal. But it was mine.

And I’ve learned that sometimes, life doesn’t follow the rules of friendship or fairy tales.

It just follows the heart.