Adele was fuming, pacing back and forth in our cramped one-room apartment. The bed, positioned close to the door, took up most of the space. At the foot of the bed stood our mini wardrobe, while a reading table sat by the window. The only free space was the narrow path leading to the restroom and kitchen.

Suddenly, Adele stopped mid-stride, her shoulders slumping. She turned to me with a broken expression and burst into tears, looking like a wounded animal.

In that moment, I saw what lay behind her anger: hurt. My heart broke as I moved to her side, pulling her into a fierce embrace. I wished I could take away her pain. In a trembling voice, she whispered, ‘I believed her. How could she do this to me?’ I had no answers that could ease her pain.

It was hard for me to reconcile what Ella did with the person she pretended to be. Adele had met her a few months ago while they were both interns at the same organization. They had clicked almost instantly. It was as if they’d known each other forever. Ella was always smiling, always helpful—always there when you needed her. But now, Adele had learned the truth: Ella had only gotten close to her to steal a position she had worked so hard to prepare for.

Ella had been sly about it, carefully gaining Adele’s trust and learning all the details of her plans and strategy for a major project that would determine who earned the full-time role at the organization. Then, as if it were her own, she presented Adele’s ideas to the chairman, claiming credit for them. To make matters worse, she had trash-talked Adele, painting her as incompetent and unreliable to further solidify her own position.

The betrayal cut deep. It was sad to think that someone who seemed so genuine could be so calculating. But I suppose no one can hide their true self forever; like a flame, our true nature always finds a way to escape.

In some ways, I could relate to Adele’s pain—finding out that someone you trusted with your heart isn’t who they claimed to be