The night Jason proposed, I was ecstatic—until I realized one person hadn’t congratulated me: Brooke. She’d been my closest friend for years, but lately, we’d drifted. It started when she met Jason and said, “I don’t think he’s right for you.” I accused her of jealousy. After that, our friendship cracked.

Then, one night, she called. Whispered, “Don’t trust him,” and hung up. I called back—nothing.

Desperate for answers, I visited her house. Her mom, Stephanie, answered. As I explained, concern filled her face. She asked Jason’s name, then said, “Brooke’s daughter’s father was named Jason too.”

She showed me an old photo.

It was him. My Jason.

He had abandoned Brooke and their child—Melanie. Brooke returned and admitted he threatened her to stay silent.

Tears fell, but I embraced her.

“You’re not alone anymore,” I said.

She smiled through her tears.

“Thank you,” she whispered.